It's said that the sense of smell is one of our greatest memory triggers. I remember Nanny when I smell her laundry detergent on a vintage sheet that has been tucked away for years. Lavender hand soap reminds me of the first time I visited Brad's parents' home as his brand-new girlfriend. I hear the laughs of my dorm-mates when I encounter the same scent that lingered in those halls. Crackling wood fires bring to mind memories of childhood campfires in the woods behind my parents' home, and cookouts at the church in the fall. Even the smell of dead flies (ha!) reminds me of the fly-strewn practice room that houses my favorite piano at college.
Touch and texture remind me of things, too. Play-doh, that smooth to crumbly feeling that smells just like...play-doh? You know! And the plastic tub. The dough that's molded over and over and shaped and stretched and cut and extruded and smooshed back into the container with three different colors mixed in for another day. (Happy run-on sentence to you. You're welcome.)
Lately, I feel like play-doh. Familiar, soft, playful. Sometimes a little crumbly. Not perfect. Molded again and again and definitely not what I used to be. Still good, but not what I used to be. And my heart is so much softer than the first day I let God use me, the first time I let him have control of my life.
Life is full of beautiful blessings. Days that turn out perfectly, a loving family, a comfortable home, a beautiful, boisterous baby boy. But there is so much pain, too. I can't share all my pain here, yet, maybe never, but know that if you're hurting, I will cry with you.
There is a family in Buffalo, NY whose preschooler, Ben, has been diagnosed with a tumor, a cancer that has given him mere weeks to live. Ben is a twin. And the middle child in a perfect little family. They love God. They believe, they trust. But the end of Ben's life appears to be imminent. I know that God can redeem this situation somehow, but it seems that there will be tears. And mourning. And grief. And many whys with no answers that satisfy. His mother keeps saying "but God." But God could intervene.
He has, and He will. God is sovereign. He gives generously, and takes away. We may never know why on this side of eternity, but we can trust Him because He loves us.
Even so, I'm crying for little Ben and his family tonight. I'm crying because my heart resonates with the pain of loss, and of aching for ones I've loved. Because I know the peace that passes understanding, and his name is Jesus. He is the only hope for our hurting souls, and the only answer to the death, destruction, and pain in this world. He is the only one, who by his own strength overcame the grave, and who gives us a future and a hope in heaven. He has made the way for us to become children of God, and to live with Him through eternity.
I'm taking comfort in that tonight. Even though I feel like I'm crumbling. Bits of me smashed up with other bits that I didn't think belonged. But I'll be rolled out and shaped and formed each day of my life and one day, become exactly what my Father planned for me all along. The pain, the sorrow, the joys, the blessings, the longings, the dreams fulfilled - they will all be worth it. They will come together as part of His glorious plan and I will be perfectly content, rejoicing in Him.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
little things
Today's little things are actually quite big to me! This will be a long-ish post. I hope you'll stick with me.
First, the little things:
1. Seeing a big, fat robin preening himself on the fence around our side yard. I just stood and watched him for about a minute. There are also little, tiny blue flowers growing at the bottom of the fence - I will have to take a picture for you.
2. Holding my husband's hand in the car. Something extra safe and secure about that - no seatbelt could ever make me feel so protected.
3. Sunshine streaming through closed blinds - the promise of another pretty summer day
4. Unlimited access to clean drinking water and to a fully functional bathroom. And nice-smelling soap and soft towels. This is high priority for pregnant women.
5. Friends that care to check in on me and find out how I really am
6. Fresh blueberries from the public market - directly from the farmer who grew 'em. So sweet.
7. Maternity Shorts. Capital. What a wonderful idea to put a soft, stretchy panel in a cute pair of dark denim Bermudas. And thank you to the sweet woman who dropped them off at the thrift store instead of the pricier consignment shop across the street.
8. Feeling our baby boy move - little kicks and punches that feel like bubble wrap bursting in my belly.
9. Reassuring doctors who take time out of their vacations to update us on test results
10. Knowing that our baby's genetic tests show that he's normal and healthy
The last three "little things" have been huge to hubby and me this past week. Exactly a week ago today, I went to the follow-up appointment with my ob/gyn after my 19 week sonogram a week before (two weeks ago today). Everything had looked great on the sonogram - the technician called what she saw "textbook" for development, commenting again and again on how well kidneys, heart, brain, bones, and even the umbilical cord were formed. We were confident that Baby was doing great - wiggling, kicking, scrunching his little fists, and making faces. I left the sonogram and had a routine blood test done, feeling happy about our little one and never doubting that anything could be wrong with our precious boy.
So, at the follow-up appointment, my doctor came in the room to discuss the blood test results. All of my other test results have been normal thus far, and I have no predicting factors for making this one any different - but it was. This was the "quad screen" test, which looks for levels of different proteins that serve as potential markers for physical abnormalities in the developing baby. My test came back with low levels of a certain protein, which indicated that I had an increased risk of having a baby with Down's syndrome. Evidently, the normal risk factor for a woman my age is something like 1 in 950, and mine was calculated at 1 in 250...about the risk for a woman 10 years older than me.
I'm pretty sure my heart went into overdrive. The rest of the visit - listening to the statistics, hearing the baby's heartbeat (normal rate), carrying the paperwork to the check-out desk - all of it is a blur, except for this clear, strong voice in my head that said, just once, "he doesn't have it." I had been praying the whole time, and trying so hard not to cry. I'm pretty sure I was pale. My ob/gyn made a call to the specialist immediately, and got me an appointment for just two days later instead of the two weeks I would normally have to wait. I was thankful for that. I told him so.
I made it all the way through the grocery store and back home before I cried. I left a message for hubby to call me - and then I spent most of the next two days crying. And praying. And trying so hard to believe the voice I heard. Wanting to hope, wanting to know, wanting to believe - but so afraid that if I did, I would be wrong. It was so hard to trust. I spent hours reading the psalms, trying to sing, and throwing myself into housework so I wouldn't cry. I felt Baby move more often in those two days than I have before - I wonder if he could feel how stressed and worried I felt. I'm pretty sure I ate healthy foods, but I don't really remember. There are still chips left and the salad is gone, so I guess I did.
On Thursday last week, we went to see the specialist. Hubby got a couple hours off of work to come with me (we're sharing a car right now), and I was so glad to have him with me. The specialist looked over our ultrasound pictures again, and reassured us that he believed that Baby was one of the 249 babies without DS, not the one with the extra copies of chromosomes (for that's what causes Down's - it's having multiple copies of the smallest chromosome). He explained all the physical markers and showed us that our baby did not have those physical signs - that everything looked normal. He said this knowledge, along with our other previously normal-looking tests, added up to a risk that was probably closer to 1 in 400 - but still a risk. Do you know how comforting the word "normal" is?
The specialist gave us three options to consider. 1. Wait until the baby is born to know for sure, 2. have an expensive, not paid by insurance, brand-new-in-the-last-6-months blood test done to analyze my DNA and the fragments of baby's DNA in my blood - an almost definitive yes or no, or 3. Have an insurance-covered amniocentesis done: a definitive test. The first two options both carried some what-ifs. What if we didn't know about the disorder, and baby had it? That could complicate the birth process, for one, and leave us a bit unprepared for what laid ahead. What if the blood test said he had DS, but he was born normal and healthy? We'd worry and prepare for no reason. The only definitive answer would be from the amniocentesis - and that procedure carries with it the risk of miscarriage - about 1 in 400.
The specialist left us for a few minutes to talk and consider what to do. I almost burst into tears when he left, but hubby was holding my hand. We talked about the risks, and decided that we needed to know if Baby was okay. We told the doctor that we would do the amniocentesis, I signed paperwork, and hubby had to go back to work. I texted a friend to come and pick me up from the procedure - she was wonderful to come and get me.
The procedure for an amniocentesis involves drawing a few tablespoons of fluid out of the amniotic sac around the Baby. The needle goes through the mother's stomach and, guided by ultrasound, into an area where Baby isn't going to be inside the fluid sac. I couldn't watch. It only hurt a little at the insertion point, and it was over quickly. They checked Baby's heart rate afterward, and it was normal. He was wiggly as usual. I was so very emotionally and physically tired. I walked slowly to the door of the hospital, rode home, thanked my friend, and slept for two hours on the couch. Baby was kicking like crazy - that felt reassuring to me.
And then we waited. The specialist promised to call us with results on Monday, even though he would be on vacation all this week. Friday was a long, long day! I don't remember much of Saturday, except going to the market with a friend. I think I slept a lot. Sunday, we prayed, worshiped, sang, and heard a sermon about the dangers of pride, of self-reliance - the danger of not trusting God. We held hands, and prayed that God had made our baby perfectly, that there had been no "mistake" in chromosome copies, that he was healthy and normal. We were scared, but thankful for the specialist's confidence.
Monday, I waited almost all day, until the call came a bit after 4pm. I picked up the phone, my heart racing, blood pumping in my ears. "Good news," the specialist said, "your baby does not have Down's syndrome." There will be further analysis of his genetic material, but this big question is answered. The doctor is confident that no other disorders will be revealed. Baby looks healthy and normal. He doesn't have a major chromosomal disorder. We are so relieved! And thankful. And full of love for our gracious God and our tiny Little One.
We went out to dinner to celebrate (with a gift card, of course) our little (BIG!) blessing. May we never take for granted that our boy will be able to eat well, sleep well, fill a diaper well, learn to use the potty without trouble, speak well, think well, run well, play well, get messy, make mistakes, make friends, learn quickly, play an instrument, go to college, get married, and have a family. May we remember that normal life - normal, everyday, sticky mess filled, auto-pilot life - is a blessing.
So thankful for the little things, and for our Little One. Full of joy!
1. Seeing a big, fat robin preening himself on the fence around our side yard. I just stood and watched him for about a minute. There are also little, tiny blue flowers growing at the bottom of the fence - I will have to take a picture for you.
2. Holding my husband's hand in the car. Something extra safe and secure about that - no seatbelt could ever make me feel so protected.
3. Sunshine streaming through closed blinds - the promise of another pretty summer day
4. Unlimited access to clean drinking water and to a fully functional bathroom. And nice-smelling soap and soft towels. This is high priority for pregnant women.
5. Friends that care to check in on me and find out how I really am
6. Fresh blueberries from the public market - directly from the farmer who grew 'em. So sweet.
7. Maternity Shorts. Capital. What a wonderful idea to put a soft, stretchy panel in a cute pair of dark denim Bermudas. And thank you to the sweet woman who dropped them off at the thrift store instead of the pricier consignment shop across the street.
8. Feeling our baby boy move - little kicks and punches that feel like bubble wrap bursting in my belly.
9. Reassuring doctors who take time out of their vacations to update us on test results
10. Knowing that our baby's genetic tests show that he's normal and healthy
The last three "little things" have been huge to hubby and me this past week. Exactly a week ago today, I went to the follow-up appointment with my ob/gyn after my 19 week sonogram a week before (two weeks ago today). Everything had looked great on the sonogram - the technician called what she saw "textbook" for development, commenting again and again on how well kidneys, heart, brain, bones, and even the umbilical cord were formed. We were confident that Baby was doing great - wiggling, kicking, scrunching his little fists, and making faces. I left the sonogram and had a routine blood test done, feeling happy about our little one and never doubting that anything could be wrong with our precious boy.
So, at the follow-up appointment, my doctor came in the room to discuss the blood test results. All of my other test results have been normal thus far, and I have no predicting factors for making this one any different - but it was. This was the "quad screen" test, which looks for levels of different proteins that serve as potential markers for physical abnormalities in the developing baby. My test came back with low levels of a certain protein, which indicated that I had an increased risk of having a baby with Down's syndrome. Evidently, the normal risk factor for a woman my age is something like 1 in 950, and mine was calculated at 1 in 250...about the risk for a woman 10 years older than me.
I'm pretty sure my heart went into overdrive. The rest of the visit - listening to the statistics, hearing the baby's heartbeat (normal rate), carrying the paperwork to the check-out desk - all of it is a blur, except for this clear, strong voice in my head that said, just once, "he doesn't have it." I had been praying the whole time, and trying so hard not to cry. I'm pretty sure I was pale. My ob/gyn made a call to the specialist immediately, and got me an appointment for just two days later instead of the two weeks I would normally have to wait. I was thankful for that. I told him so.
I made it all the way through the grocery store and back home before I cried. I left a message for hubby to call me - and then I spent most of the next two days crying. And praying. And trying so hard to believe the voice I heard. Wanting to hope, wanting to know, wanting to believe - but so afraid that if I did, I would be wrong. It was so hard to trust. I spent hours reading the psalms, trying to sing, and throwing myself into housework so I wouldn't cry. I felt Baby move more often in those two days than I have before - I wonder if he could feel how stressed and worried I felt. I'm pretty sure I ate healthy foods, but I don't really remember. There are still chips left and the salad is gone, so I guess I did.
On Thursday last week, we went to see the specialist. Hubby got a couple hours off of work to come with me (we're sharing a car right now), and I was so glad to have him with me. The specialist looked over our ultrasound pictures again, and reassured us that he believed that Baby was one of the 249 babies without DS, not the one with the extra copies of chromosomes (for that's what causes Down's - it's having multiple copies of the smallest chromosome). He explained all the physical markers and showed us that our baby did not have those physical signs - that everything looked normal. He said this knowledge, along with our other previously normal-looking tests, added up to a risk that was probably closer to 1 in 400 - but still a risk. Do you know how comforting the word "normal" is?
The specialist gave us three options to consider. 1. Wait until the baby is born to know for sure, 2. have an expensive, not paid by insurance, brand-new-in-the-last-6-months blood test done to analyze my DNA and the fragments of baby's DNA in my blood - an almost definitive yes or no, or 3. Have an insurance-covered amniocentesis done: a definitive test. The first two options both carried some what-ifs. What if we didn't know about the disorder, and baby had it? That could complicate the birth process, for one, and leave us a bit unprepared for what laid ahead. What if the blood test said he had DS, but he was born normal and healthy? We'd worry and prepare for no reason. The only definitive answer would be from the amniocentesis - and that procedure carries with it the risk of miscarriage - about 1 in 400.
The specialist left us for a few minutes to talk and consider what to do. I almost burst into tears when he left, but hubby was holding my hand. We talked about the risks, and decided that we needed to know if Baby was okay. We told the doctor that we would do the amniocentesis, I signed paperwork, and hubby had to go back to work. I texted a friend to come and pick me up from the procedure - she was wonderful to come and get me.
The procedure for an amniocentesis involves drawing a few tablespoons of fluid out of the amniotic sac around the Baby. The needle goes through the mother's stomach and, guided by ultrasound, into an area where Baby isn't going to be inside the fluid sac. I couldn't watch. It only hurt a little at the insertion point, and it was over quickly. They checked Baby's heart rate afterward, and it was normal. He was wiggly as usual. I was so very emotionally and physically tired. I walked slowly to the door of the hospital, rode home, thanked my friend, and slept for two hours on the couch. Baby was kicking like crazy - that felt reassuring to me.
And then we waited. The specialist promised to call us with results on Monday, even though he would be on vacation all this week. Friday was a long, long day! I don't remember much of Saturday, except going to the market with a friend. I think I slept a lot. Sunday, we prayed, worshiped, sang, and heard a sermon about the dangers of pride, of self-reliance - the danger of not trusting God. We held hands, and prayed that God had made our baby perfectly, that there had been no "mistake" in chromosome copies, that he was healthy and normal. We were scared, but thankful for the specialist's confidence.
Monday, I waited almost all day, until the call came a bit after 4pm. I picked up the phone, my heart racing, blood pumping in my ears. "Good news," the specialist said, "your baby does not have Down's syndrome." There will be further analysis of his genetic material, but this big question is answered. The doctor is confident that no other disorders will be revealed. Baby looks healthy and normal. He doesn't have a major chromosomal disorder. We are so relieved! And thankful. And full of love for our gracious God and our tiny Little One.
We went out to dinner to celebrate (with a gift card, of course) our little (BIG!) blessing. May we never take for granted that our boy will be able to eat well, sleep well, fill a diaper well, learn to use the potty without trouble, speak well, think well, run well, play well, get messy, make mistakes, make friends, learn quickly, play an instrument, go to college, get married, and have a family. May we remember that normal life - normal, everyday, sticky mess filled, auto-pilot life - is a blessing.
So thankful for the little things, and for our Little One. Full of joy!
Monday, March 28, 2011
(grad) student life
Graduate student life is such a paradox.
I am an adult, but I'm a student.
I'm a teacher, but a peer.
I have homework, but also housework.
I have school bills, but also energy, trash, and rent bills. And school loans.
I have a presentation to do, meetings to attend, rehearsals, and my own homework.
And I'm blogging to take a few minutes to breathe.
Things I'm enjoying right now:
1. the white fuzzy angora sweater I'm wearing
2. the sunshine outside, even though it's way below freezing
3. my pink planner that makes my life look more organized
4. being allowed to take scores out of the library
5. that my husband will be home when I get there tonight
6. nice-tasting water in my purple narrow-mouth Nalgene
7. my friend Nicki sitting across from me, commiserating
8. my mom, just a text message away
9. having a vehicle so I can drive myself to and from school and the grocery store and wherever-I-need-to-go-at-anytime-I-want
10. the nearness of God in my simple prayer.
Lord, please help me to focus and to do my very best at this work. Help me to accept what is truly my best, and to not push myself beyond what is healthy emotionally, physically, mentally, or spiritually. Thank you that you are near to me.
I am an adult, but I'm a student.
I'm a teacher, but a peer.
I have homework, but also housework.
I have school bills, but also energy, trash, and rent bills. And school loans.
I have a presentation to do, meetings to attend, rehearsals, and my own homework.
And I'm blogging to take a few minutes to breathe.
Things I'm enjoying right now:
1. the white fuzzy angora sweater I'm wearing
2. the sunshine outside, even though it's way below freezing
3. my pink planner that makes my life look more organized
4. being allowed to take scores out of the library
5. that my husband will be home when I get there tonight
6. nice-tasting water in my purple narrow-mouth Nalgene
7. my friend Nicki sitting across from me, commiserating
8. my mom, just a text message away
9. having a vehicle so I can drive myself to and from school and the grocery store and wherever-I-need-to-go-at-anytime-I-want
10. the nearness of God in my simple prayer.
Lord, please help me to focus and to do my very best at this work. Help me to accept what is truly my best, and to not push myself beyond what is healthy emotionally, physically, mentally, or spiritually. Thank you that you are near to me.
Monday, January 3, 2011
decisions for a new year
being an adult is a lot harder than I thought.
For instance, this week I need to decide whether or not completing my Master's degree is worthwhile and practical, and if it is feasible. Our financial situation makes it difficult to swing this - something needs to go.
The drastic option:
1. find teaching jobs for one or both of us outside this state, break our lease and utility contracts, withdraw from school, move. This means I probably will not have the opportunity to finish my degree, and I know I'll regret that, even though grad school is the most challenging experience I've had yet. It also means that we could possibly start a family sooner than we thought - something I've wanted my whole life. Is this the door to a dream come true? It's definitely near-instant relief for our fears and struggles. Or is this a foolish decision we would make out of fear? Does this betray a lack of trust in God's promise to provide for our needs? (Is a Master's degree a need? Yes, if we stay in this state... but only if I'm going to actually teach)
The difficult, but possibly viable options:
1. find a better job for my husband. Better = closer, at least the same pay, more normal hours, full time. It would be amazing if this was also in his field.
2. take on a part time job myself in addition to grad school and my assistantship work. I really don't know how that's possible, but I'll try. Perhaps I will be more aggressive at recruiting piano students, and build an income from that. I don't have the time to make a home-based business on a site like etsy possible. That would take too much away from my grad studies.
3. be humble enough to ask, beg, plead for more money to be added to my tuition remission scholarship. I have an appointment to talk about this with the dean of the school on Wednesday.
4. ask our parents for loans. I don't really want to do this, since we already owe them money and we've had to begin payments on my husband's school loans. I also hate the idea of going further into debt.
5. sell stuff. There's some crystal I got for wedding presents that I really don't love. Someone else might... I have some clothes that could go, even though I struggle to get rid of them. See this post as a miniature explanation of my collections. I also have a collection of winter accessories, shoes, jewelry, and craft supplies. I am a skilled knitter, cook, and scrapbooker. Perhaps someone would pay me for this?
Anyway, I feel like I'm having a real crisis. I laid awake for hours last night, I can't focus today, and I'm pretty sure I'll cry if I have to talk to anyone about this.
I really want to finish school. Here's why:
1. The degree allows me to teach permanently in this state, which is as close to a guarantee of income as I can get without actually having a job right now.
2. The degree is helping me to grow personally and musically and giving me the skills to be a better leader, teacher, researcher, learner, and professional.
3. The degree is seen as the culminating point of studies for most people in my field. Those that go on seal their fates as collegiate employees or overqualified high school teachers that districts fear to employ (a higher salary? oh no! next applicant). I would enjoy being a professor if it could be well balanced with having a family. I have yet to meet a female professor whose children are well behaved, well adjusted socially, and generally pleasant to be around.
4. I enjoy preparing a score, learning new music, teaching students, and conducting. Teaching and seeing growth, however, is my primary motivator. I am happiest when I have just spent a half hour as a piano teacher or a vocal coach. I wonder if I will learn enough to inspire and effect greater change in my choristers as well. Past choral students of mine seem to have been encouraged by the changes and growth they've made. I want to do better at this.
5. I have never quit anything except for 3rd grade softball and 12th grade calculus (because my teacher hadn't taught it in the past 6 years and because I knew I didn't need it for my upcoming music education degree). I am not a quitter. I finish what I start, and I do well - my best possible. Withdrawal now would be a huge personal crisis for me. Could that be beneficial? Perhaps, but it's not what I want to choose.
6. Did I mention that I love teaching? I like setting the schedule, organizing the rehearsal, and being responsible for the music education of young people.
I also really want a family. Here's why:
1. I love being at home. It's happy, it's ours, and I get to pick what's in it, where it goes, and what color it is (usually). I don't mind laundry, cooking, or cleaning, though I do like to have help sometimes. I love gardening, working outside, and being with the people I love.
2. I have wanted to be a mommy since I was old enough to hold a dolly. I soon realized that most people don't think the answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up, Linnea?" should be "A Mommy!" but should be something respectable like a teacher, doctor, pastor, physicist, engineer, veterinarian, changetheworldian. Especially with my early-detected "giftedness," I should be something great. I'm pretty sure I disappointed some people by choosing to be a musician, since, of course, they don't need to do any academic work, right? Pardon me while I laugh a bit.
3. I love children. I love finding teachable moments - especially moments to teach about faith, music, and manners. I don't mind tempera paint on my sleeve and spitup on my pants (at least temporarily). Diapers don't scare me, and finding crushed Cheerios in the car seat doesn't bother me. I can handle infant twins, a 3 year old, and a 5 year old all by myself, at the same time. I can make a meal or mix up formula with a baby on my hip. I can plan a meal that's ready in 15 minutes. I can orchestrate bedtime for four. I'm okay with not having a shower, not getting my hair done, and wearing the same clothes twice...or three times.
4. I love my husband. I want to build a family with him that honors God and brings joy both to us and our parents. I want to strengthen the bond that is this marriage, this family unit. There are other ways to do this than having children, granted.
5. I am already 25. I would like to not be 50 when my children are graduating from college so that I can jump for joy at their successes.
6. I am incredibly tired of birth control pills. It's annoying and disruptive to my emotional and physical well-being.
7. It just seems like the right thing for a married Christian woman to do - serve and bring honor to her husband, God, and herself, work hard to earn an income, have children. Read Proverbs 31 and the command to "be fruitful and multiply" if you need to confirm this.
So this is what I'm considering. Pray for me?
And on a lighter note, here's a snowman I made on our one 45 degree January day:
For instance, this week I need to decide whether or not completing my Master's degree is worthwhile and practical, and if it is feasible. Our financial situation makes it difficult to swing this - something needs to go.
The drastic option:
1. find teaching jobs for one or both of us outside this state, break our lease and utility contracts, withdraw from school, move. This means I probably will not have the opportunity to finish my degree, and I know I'll regret that, even though grad school is the most challenging experience I've had yet. It also means that we could possibly start a family sooner than we thought - something I've wanted my whole life. Is this the door to a dream come true? It's definitely near-instant relief for our fears and struggles. Or is this a foolish decision we would make out of fear? Does this betray a lack of trust in God's promise to provide for our needs? (Is a Master's degree a need? Yes, if we stay in this state... but only if I'm going to actually teach)
The difficult, but possibly viable options:
1. find a better job for my husband. Better = closer, at least the same pay, more normal hours, full time. It would be amazing if this was also in his field.
2. take on a part time job myself in addition to grad school and my assistantship work. I really don't know how that's possible, but I'll try. Perhaps I will be more aggressive at recruiting piano students, and build an income from that. I don't have the time to make a home-based business on a site like etsy possible. That would take too much away from my grad studies.
3. be humble enough to ask, beg, plead for more money to be added to my tuition remission scholarship. I have an appointment to talk about this with the dean of the school on Wednesday.
4. ask our parents for loans. I don't really want to do this, since we already owe them money and we've had to begin payments on my husband's school loans. I also hate the idea of going further into debt.
5. sell stuff. There's some crystal I got for wedding presents that I really don't love. Someone else might... I have some clothes that could go, even though I struggle to get rid of them. See this post as a miniature explanation of my collections. I also have a collection of winter accessories, shoes, jewelry, and craft supplies. I am a skilled knitter, cook, and scrapbooker. Perhaps someone would pay me for this?
Anyway, I feel like I'm having a real crisis. I laid awake for hours last night, I can't focus today, and I'm pretty sure I'll cry if I have to talk to anyone about this.
I really want to finish school. Here's why:
1. The degree allows me to teach permanently in this state, which is as close to a guarantee of income as I can get without actually having a job right now.
2. The degree is helping me to grow personally and musically and giving me the skills to be a better leader, teacher, researcher, learner, and professional.
3. The degree is seen as the culminating point of studies for most people in my field. Those that go on seal their fates as collegiate employees or overqualified high school teachers that districts fear to employ (a higher salary? oh no! next applicant). I would enjoy being a professor if it could be well balanced with having a family. I have yet to meet a female professor whose children are well behaved, well adjusted socially, and generally pleasant to be around.
4. I enjoy preparing a score, learning new music, teaching students, and conducting. Teaching and seeing growth, however, is my primary motivator. I am happiest when I have just spent a half hour as a piano teacher or a vocal coach. I wonder if I will learn enough to inspire and effect greater change in my choristers as well. Past choral students of mine seem to have been encouraged by the changes and growth they've made. I want to do better at this.
5. I have never quit anything except for 3rd grade softball and 12th grade calculus (because my teacher hadn't taught it in the past 6 years and because I knew I didn't need it for my upcoming music education degree). I am not a quitter. I finish what I start, and I do well - my best possible. Withdrawal now would be a huge personal crisis for me. Could that be beneficial? Perhaps, but it's not what I want to choose.
6. Did I mention that I love teaching? I like setting the schedule, organizing the rehearsal, and being responsible for the music education of young people.
I also really want a family. Here's why:
1. I love being at home. It's happy, it's ours, and I get to pick what's in it, where it goes, and what color it is (usually). I don't mind laundry, cooking, or cleaning, though I do like to have help sometimes. I love gardening, working outside, and being with the people I love.
2. I have wanted to be a mommy since I was old enough to hold a dolly. I soon realized that most people don't think the answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up, Linnea?" should be "A Mommy!" but should be something respectable like a teacher, doctor, pastor, physicist, engineer, veterinarian, changetheworldian. Especially with my early-detected "giftedness," I should be something great. I'm pretty sure I disappointed some people by choosing to be a musician, since, of course, they don't need to do any academic work, right? Pardon me while I laugh a bit.
3. I love children. I love finding teachable moments - especially moments to teach about faith, music, and manners. I don't mind tempera paint on my sleeve and spitup on my pants (at least temporarily). Diapers don't scare me, and finding crushed Cheerios in the car seat doesn't bother me. I can handle infant twins, a 3 year old, and a 5 year old all by myself, at the same time. I can make a meal or mix up formula with a baby on my hip. I can plan a meal that's ready in 15 minutes. I can orchestrate bedtime for four. I'm okay with not having a shower, not getting my hair done, and wearing the same clothes twice...or three times.
4. I love my husband. I want to build a family with him that honors God and brings joy both to us and our parents. I want to strengthen the bond that is this marriage, this family unit. There are other ways to do this than having children, granted.
5. I am already 25. I would like to not be 50 when my children are graduating from college so that I can jump for joy at their successes.
6. I am incredibly tired of birth control pills. It's annoying and disruptive to my emotional and physical well-being.
7. It just seems like the right thing for a married Christian woman to do - serve and bring honor to her husband, God, and herself, work hard to earn an income, have children. Read Proverbs 31 and the command to "be fruitful and multiply" if you need to confirm this.
So this is what I'm considering. Pray for me?
And on a lighter note, here's a snowman I made on our one 45 degree January day:
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