General life update, Spring Break edition

It's been over a month since I've updated, and a good deal longer than that since I've written anything substantial, so it seems like a good time to write that I'm still here and doing okay.

This semester has been a hard one, which is why I'm grateful and a bit amazed to have made it as far as the halfway mark and Spring Break! I feel I've just managed to stay afloat, and even then, there are opportunities I've turned down, and other things I haven't done as thoroughly as I would have liked.

There are a number of things for which I'm grateful, though. As always, I've thankful that church has been my anchor in reality. When I see some of my good friends there, I can actually feel my heart warming (as dorky as that undoubtedly sounds!). I've been thinking about how God has brought me to particular places in order to teach me to love specific people (and even to be loved by them), and what a privilege that is.

I'm thankful that I get along with most of the people in my PhD program as well as I do. At times, I've honestly thought that doctoral programs are designed to push you to your breaking point, and that half the battle is owning the fact that you can't do everything well, but persevering anyway--even when it doesn't look pretty. It's amazing to me how often I'm faced with just how much I don't know and how much I lack. In the midst of all that, especially when I wonder why in the world I'm doing it, it's great to have colleagues I actually like! If I were in a really cutthroat environment, or people just weren't kind and supportive, I don't know if I'd be willing to go through this. When you're applying to grad school, everyone talks about the importance of liking your advisor, but you don't hear as much about the importance of chemistry with your cohort of fellow students. It's SO helpful to have people you respect, that you can commiserate with, and encourage/be encouraged by. And I say this as someone who rarely goes to social events in my department. Connection, in some form, is key.

All semester, I've been looking forward to our trip to California (in less than two weeks now). We haven't been back since June 2010, so it should be great! Also, my parents have gotten a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy (the third that's been part of the family), and I can't wait for a chance to visit and play with him in person! (If you don't know what a RR is, here's a link to an Animal Planet video profiling the breed. I can tell you for a fact that none of our dogs have ever displayed that level of athleticism. Or stared down a lion. Or been "immune to insect bites." Also, despite Animal Planet's claims, Ridgebacks are wimps about heat and cold. But they are charming and loyal and affectionate!)

Before I go, I'd ask for prayers that my anxiety would be kept in check; in the past few years, I've found that anxiety will creep up on me in physical symptoms especially when I'm not consciously dwelling on anxious matters. I guess it gets shoved under the surface and insists on making itself known one way or the other. It's not as bad as it used to be, but can still be rather a pain--especially because telling myself "just relax!" isn't necessarily effective.
Also, I need to write up a five-page summary of my tentative dissertation topic within the next week, which will inevitably be one of those stress-producing things. So prayers would be appreciated. I'll keep you posted.

Hi!

I felt like writing something to acknowledge that I am alive and well, having realized that, unless you're among the people who see me at church two or three times a week, you don't have much evidence of the fact. :)

The semester's fully underway, and I am beginning to map out how this final semester of coursework is going to look. It's looking...formidable. If I fulfill my plan, I will begin the summer with all my coursework and departmental exams finished and a tentative dissertation topic ready to be sculpted into a formal proposal by the fall. If I don't fulfill my plan, it won't be the end of the world, my program, or me. Either way, I think things will be good.

Anyway, I have a post or two in  mind to write when I have the time (or, more to the point, the energy). In the meantime, I haven't forgotten about this blog or the much-loved friends who read it, and I appreciate your stopping by.

A January Story, Part II

When I left off, I was having a pretty rough night. The next morning, as I joined the other students for the second orientation session, I was still teary-eyed, but at least I'd slept. I was able to concentrate better on the details of Scottish student life being explained. When the staff circulated a sign-up sheet for upcoming weekend excursions to Glasgow and the Scottish Highlands, I found myself writing my name down. I still knew in my gut that I couldn't stay here that long. Still, on the slim chance I survived a couple of weeks abroad, I wouldn't want to miss out on those things...right?

Somehow, through the remainder of orientation, the opportunity to "escape" never presented itself. I hadn't had the heart to tell my parents I wanted to leave already, and I didn't feel comfortable approaching the staff with so many other students milling around. I decided I would have to wait and see how the first weekend went. Then, before classes were scheduled to begin, I could visit the study abroad office and explain that I was too homesick to stay in Scotland. I knew no one would be happy, but surely something could be arranged.

When orientation ended, we and our suitcases were stuffed into cabs to be taken to the university dorms. Everyone was excited, many kids making plans to meet up that night at some pub or another. For my part, I felt a little calmer. Knowing I'd be flying home soon, I was able to detach a little and quietly enjoy the sight of old buildings whizzing by. Edinburgh was a beautiful city, its narrow streets and architecture so different from Pittsburgh or Roanoke.

Once I'd checked into my little dorm room, I savored being totally alone for the first time since I'd left home. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. But I was too wired to unpack much, and I figured there wasn't much point anyway. So, after studying one of the city maps we'd been provided, I decided it wouldn't hurt to take a walk. Even if I was leaving soon, I'd like to be able to say I had seen something of the city.

Surprisingly, I felt rather exhilarated as I ventured down Clerk Street. The day was chilly and cloudy, but I didn't think it was unpleasant. I could see Arthur's Seat, the city's tallest hill, looming over the neighborhoods to my east. I wondered if I could climb it. I passed pubs, charity shops, a couple of familiar fast food places, and an inviting-looking Blackwell's bookstore. Soon, I was shocked to observe that, with few glances at my map, I had stumbled onto the famous Royal Mile, without once getting lost! And I'd done it by myself! In fact, I had rather enjoyed looking around by myself.

The Royal Mile had souvenir shops, historical markers, and even a bagpiper. I heard a few more familiar accents mingling with the Scottish ones as I walked along. Soon I noticed St. Giles' Cathedral, the historic Presbyterian kirk. I couldn't wait to tell my dad about it! I also knew that meant that New College, the theology department of the University, could not be far away. But there were numerous little side streets whose names either weren't marked or tended to change halfway along, so I was uncertain where to go. So, hardly thinking about what I was doing, I walked onto the grounds of Edinburgh Castle, just a few steps away, and asked an attendant if she knew where New College was. Though she wasn't positive, she suggested a likely street I remembered passing, so I quickly backtracked. Sure enough, in just a couple of minutes, I found myself standing in the courtyard of the New College of Divinity, gazing up at the John Knox statue.

Pretty soon I felt myself starting to smile. I was staring history in the face on these grounds. And when I turned around, I could see a Saint Andrew's Cross flag waving on the roof of the National Gallery, the Sir Walter Scott monument beckoning near the gates of the gorgeous Princes Street Gardens, and trains pulling into Waverley Station. Not to mention, this school was literally tucked into the shadow of Edinburgh Castle. And I was going to take classes here!

Even though it was scarcely 4:00 pm, the skies were starting to darken, reminding me how far I was from home. But as I headed back towards the Royal Mile to reclaim the solitude of my dorm, I felt that something  had shifted. I was still terribly homesick, but I wanted very much to take my theology classes in the shadow of the Castle. I wanted to tour the Castle and attempt to summit Arthur's Seat, too. Maybe even take a train somewhere.

And guess what? Over the next five months, I did every one of those things.

~ ~

Why did I recall these memories eight years later? I think it's because Edinburgh was where I learned that I could be brave, and that I could persevere when things only looked bleak. I'm not sure I knew those things about myself before. I also discovered that courage and perseverance do not necessarily look pretty. To this day, I still feel awful before trying something new, or even going through a pretty ordinary transition. I always doubt whether I'm up for the challenge and whether the whole thing will prove to have been worth it. But once I decisively venture to do what needs doing, I very often begin to thrive.

It's comforting to remember that on the cusp of a new semester. I have a truckload of anxieties, and I know I'm bound to have an ugly meltdown or two. But I also trust that God will give me the grace to be brave when I need to be. More importantly, even when I'm not brave, God will show His strength and faithfulness. That's something I'll always need to learn.

A January Story, Part I

I don't handle Januaries terrifically well. The transition from weeks of exclusive home and family time to full-time school, with all its attendant stresses, fills me with anxiety and dread more often than not. I start wondering why I ever thought an academic career was a good idea. Even though I've weathered January transitions many times before, I feel convinced that this time, it will prove to have been a terrible mistake.

~ ~

Last night as I struggled to fall asleep, I remembered a particularly awful January transition in the past. It was January 2, 2004. I was 20, and I had just arrived in Edinburgh, Scotland, for a five-month study abroad program.

Through most of the long British Airways flight, I was fairly calm, even cautiously excited. Studying in Scotland was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, and I was finally going! Even the terrible inner-ear pressure during the descent into Edinburgh didn't ruin my pleasure at seeing the gray, snow-covered hills and realizing I was probably the first of my family to lay eyes on this land in many generations.

By the time I'd gathered my luggage and joined the rest of my study abroad cohort, however, I started to feel self-conscious and worried. I realized something: they all knew each other. Well, not everyone. (As I was later to discover, there was one other solo traveler, a fellow reticent Sarah, who would be responsible for some of my happiest adventures in Scotland.) But the vast majority of kids had traveled in contingents from their home universities, so they had friends with them. They chatted buoyantly on the coach that took us from the airport to the hotel where our orientation would be held. Meanwhile, I was the only Hollins woman, the only theology nerd as far as I knew, and the only one hailing from a tiny Southern college with fewer than 1,000 students.

Suddenly, it really began to hit me that I was at least 3,500 miles from home. I didn't know a soul on this island.* And I was going to be stuck here for almost half a year.

 I started crying. It seemed to be the only way I could grapple with the crushing isolation and uncertainty I felt. Silently, and as inconspicuously as I knew how, I cried through the better part of the next 24 hours: I cried while the group of New England coeds sitting near me in the hotel lobby talked about Edinburgh pubs and how awesome it was that we could legally drink here. I cried while the study abroad staff gave us all the basic settling-in details, such as how to matriculate, where to get photo IDs taken (what suddenly sounded like insurmountable tasks), and how we must never call Scottish people "Brits." (Did people really not know this?!) I cried when I noticed that my hotel roommate looked vaguely like my best friend, from a certain angle. I even teared up when a friendly Scottish man spilled part of his cereal onto my tray at breakfast the next morning and fell all over himself apologizing.

I probably couldn't have put into words why I felt so overwhelmingly emotional. It's not as if I had never traveled independently before, or even that it was the first time I had traveled overseas. But I had never been both overseas and totally alone. Unlike my father, who at my age had circled the globe a couple of times and survived war zones, I'd never gone for more than a couple of months without seeing my family. I felt terribly out of my element, I was far too shy to engage in more than a few phrases with anyone around me, and there was an entire ocean between me and everything I loved.

Do you know how exhausting it is to cry like a leaky faucet for hours upon hours -- all the while laboring to conceal your disgrace from everyone around you? It's demoralizing in a big way. And, I suspect, probably nowhere near as successful as I hoped. By that time, though, I was too sad to care.

I found respite that night when we were finally dismissed to our hotel rooms; at least now I had a pillow to soak up my seemingly endless supply. And I had a little silence in which to think. I realized there was no way I could stay in Scotland. It was simply too much, too hard. Apparently I wasn't cut out for a trip of this magnitude by myself. While it would be embarrassing to admit defeat and re-enroll at Hollins for the semester, I could think of nothing that sounded more appealing. At the earliest non-awkward opportunity, I would talk to the study abroad staff and explain that I needed to book a flight home as soon as possible.

~ ~

No, the story doesn't end here. And yes, it ends on a MUCH more hopeful note, as you probably already know! But you'll have to wait for Part II to read the rest. :-)

*Had I known that my future husband would be landing at Heathrow less than a week later, to spend the next three months 300 miles away from me at Oxford, would it have comforted me at all? I wasn't to know that for another few years. :-)

Pressing on...Toward Peace?

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Phil. 3:12-14

2011 was a pretty good year for us. It was our first full year in St. Louis, a city we've enjoyed calling home so far. Some of the highlights of the year included getting more involved in our church (I am so excited to be able to attend Midweek again this semester!), making some new friends there, and traveling to Texas to become godparents for our nieces there. We also got to travel to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving and Christmas and for a week at the beginning of the summer.

In 2012, I am very excited to visit California for a week in March. We haven't been back since our initial move to St. Louis. I also hope to take better advantage of inexpensive ways to have fun around St. Louis. But perhaps the thing I'm most looking forward to is finishing my PhD coursework.

Looking back at personal journaling and other things, I can tell that anxiety was a major factor throughout the year. I've always been adamant that school is not the only or most important thing in my life, but the anxiety still finds ways of creeping up uninvited. The fact that I do insist on taking time off (such as evenings, parts of weekends) usually comes back to bite me later, compounded by a sense of guilt that I'm not working as hard, or at least not getting as much accomplished, as others in my program. But it's not just school, either. I seem to be prone to worry, even when I'm not consciously dwelling on an anxiety-producing thing.

So I would be very happy if 2012 could be a year in which I learned to fight anxiety, however one does that. And I don't want to simply say, "I just have to tough it out through one more semester of coursework, and then things will get better." While I believe the latter will be true, I want to genuinely enjoy myself and look forward to life in the meantime. I'd like to remember my later 20's as more than a long haze of stress. I don't think I'll ever look back and say, "I wish I had spent more time worrying."

Sarah's Top Ten Reads in 2011

One of my favorite ways to mark the passing of the old year is to look back over the list of books I've read. Here are ten (give or take) that I particularly enjoyed in 2011.

10. The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs
A classic 17th-century Puritan work on the discipline of learning contentment in Christ.

9. Augustine of Hippo: A Biography by Peter Brown
The classic biography of the most important Father of the Western church; besides being a top scholar, Brown is an entertaining writer.

8. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
If I were going to choose a novel to curl up with on a rainy weekend, it might well be this one.

7. The Discipline of Grace: God's Role and Our Role in the Pursuit of Holiness by Jerry Bridges
Bridges teaches that pursuing holiness is neither a matter of passivity nor of gritting one's teeth and trying harder, but of daily preaching the gospel to oneself and, from the gracious knowledge of acceptance and of sin's broken dominion, pressing on in the joyful duty of discipleship. I found this book to be convicting in the best way -- that is, energizing rather than guilt-inducing. It includes practical suggestions for pursuing holiness in daily living. I need to read it again.

6. Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl: Wide Eyed Wonder in God's Spoken World by N. D. Wilson
Elsewhere I described this strange little book as being "gritty and whimsical, and it makes you feel small in the best way." If you are familiar with G. K. Chesterton's works, especially Orthodoxy, you might have a sense of what I mean; but even if you aren't, I think you will still enjoy Wilson's meditations on the natural world and its Creator.

5. Homeward Bound: Preparing Your Family for Eternity by Edward Hartman
Reflecting on his first wife's death and his dissertation work on the Puritans, Hartman considers ways that Christians, particularly families, can live toward the reality of death joyfully, in ways that portray God's grace and glory to the watching world. Included in the Appendix is William Perkins' 1616 treatise, The Right Manner of Dying Well, which is very remarkable in its own right, with especially wonderful content on the Christian's bodily and spiritual union with Christ.

4. The Mystery of the Lord's Supper by Robert Bruce, Fourteen Communion Sermons by Samuel Rutherford, and The Lord's Supper by Thomas Watson
This is a slight cheat; I lumped together the sermons and devotional texts I read this year on the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. For Protestants interested in digging into this material, I'd suggest starting with Watson (it's a short treatise) and familiarizing yourself a bit with the historical context before jumping into Bruce or Rutherford. (I know of a scholarly essay that may help. ;))

3. Middlemarch by George Eliot
I'm a little amazed at myself for committing to all 900+ pages! It wasn't that hard once I got into the characters, though, and it was well worth the effort. I do love my nineteenth-century lit, especially when church life gets involved, and Eliot's good for that.

2. Holy Fairs: Scotland and the Making of American Revivalism by Leigh Eric Schmidt
This is a scholarly book, but it was personally significant. Schmidt explores the Scottish Presbyterian heritage of early frontier revivalism, especially the centrality of the Lord's Supper. I was amazed to learn how central Communion and sacramental piety have been to Reformed Christians from the earliest generations. I highly recommend this book to fellow Presbyterians. It is not a very difficult read, and it will introduce you to tons of great primary sources (see #4 above).

1. Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset
1922 Nobel Prize-winning epic historical novel following the life of a woman in fourteenth-century Norway. It may sound obscure, but the book has been undergoing a resurgence of popularity lately; I know of at least two (unconnected) friends who've enjoyed it in the past year. What's funny is that, when I read the first book, I wasn't crazy about it at all. But I found I couldn't abandon the trilogy, and as I got deeper into the work and better understood what Undset was doing (and even now, it's so rich that I don't fully grasp it, especially the Scandinavian epic overtones), I appreciated her achievement more and more. A big factor was finding the right translation -- if you decide to read it, go for Tiina Nunnally's Penguin translation. I don't think you'll regret it.
Elsewhere I described it as "Exceptionally well researched -- a beautiful and unsentimental portrayal of late medieval Scandinavian life, and of one woman's powerful sin and love...I loved this book's beautiful descriptions of Norway, the un-romanticized medieval setting, the honest and believable highs and lows of married life and Christian faith."


Hope you enjoyed the list, and maybe even found something to read in the new year! And don't hesitate to send recommendations my way, either -- especially novels. I would love to find more enjoyable fiction this year; I'm just never sure where to start. (And it doesn't have to be "classic" or historical.)

Tree

While I'm not always big on traditions -- it depends very much on what sort we're talking about -- one that has nothing but happy associations for me is the Christmas tree.

In my 28 years, I've never celebrated a Christmas without a tree. And though it might seem extravagant, given that we've never spent the holiday itself in our own home, I'm happy that we've gotten our own little tree each year we've been married. Even though it lives with us for less than three weeks, it does so much to gladden what is traditionally a less than buoyant time in the student's calendar.

There's something about bringing a living thing into your home, a beautifully-scented, even sticky and sharp-needled thing, as a tangible reminder of the respite and celebration that awaits. How much more beautiful, more strange, more hopeful is the Incarnation!