a week of miracles (a few weeks, actually)

I’ve had a week of miracles. And really, it’s been several weeks.

About a month ago, I was feeling pretty forsaken. I thought God had forgotten me. Everything seemed to be stonewalling me all at once. No job, no home, no clear path forward. Dad made me pray with him. I didn’t want to. Afterwards, I felt something. I think now it might have been hope.

The next day BYU offered me an adjunct teaching job. I accepted. Miracle #1. Miracle #2 came in the form of getting 3 courses to teach, two honors and one advanced. In case it’s not obvious, that’s a pretty sweet schedule for a first semester adjunct. Miracle #4 came when the contracts came and I saw I would be making almost twice as much per course.

I was nervous about my selected living situation, but once we got the logistics worked out, it looked like it was going to work. I’ve been here for two weeks now and it’s working. In fact, yesterday Maia came downstairs while I was at work and stood at my door singing, “Juwee, whereareyou? Juwee, I wuv you. Juwee, whereareyou? Juwee, I wuv you.” Melt. My. Heart.

My job is awesome. I love it. The only hitch came when I realized I couldn’t do my full course load, take all of my planned classes and keep my sanity. So I dropped my second class, signed up for choir, and promptly lost my student health insurance. Miracle #5: they approved my appeal and gave me my health insurance back.

It’s kind of amazing to me but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The scriptures are full of stories of God taking people to their absolute limits and then offering some sort of deliverance. I guess I just haven’t been able to trust him much since I felt like he had taken me well beyond my limits with my mom and then with everything that has happened since.

Miracle #6 came on Sunday. I fasted with real intent for the first time in about a year. I have fasted during this last year, but with almost no confidence that I would be heard. But this time was different. God had given me a long-shot job. My living situation was working. I could feel my heart healing. As I sat in church on Sunday, contemplating the good things that had happened and worrying about the current stressors (no health insurance being at the top of the list), I had this overwhelming assurance of God’s love for and awareness of me. And then I realized that my heart had healed.

I still miss Mom. I always will. But the anger, the bitterness, the lack of trust…it has been taken away. I tried to do all I could to resolve it, but ultimately it was the power of the atonement that had to finish the job. The tears started flowing and they haven’t really stopped. My prayers have resumed and they have been full of gratitude. And, as always, I just had to share.

Less complicated….I think

So, I turned down the job.

One of the hardest things about my mother’s death has been the realization that one of the consequences is for me to learn how to make my own decisions and feel confident about them.  I always knew how much I relied upon her for advice, but I think I always downplayed how much I needed her stamp of approval.  She never tried to impose her will on me, but I always felt better when she was on board–mostly for big decisions.  I think Dad has always known this, so he has  sort of adopted a “confirm goodness once decision has been made” policy.  So really, I was on my own yesterday.  Well, not entirely, I suppose.

I drove to Ashton and back, trying to clear my head. When that didn’t work, I sat at the end of the fields in my car and listened to some soothing music, trying to sort it all out. When that didn’t work, I started writing. I was getting closer. Then I came home and felt prompted to read D&C 9.  Then, one of my students who had been following the saga on Facebook sent me a conference talk about prayer. I had to smile. But through all of this, all of the thinking, talking, writing, reading, and praying, it all became clear. I knew what the right decision was.  Go back to Utah, finish the program I started, and have faith that the job situation will work itself out.

Sometimes people think the faith comes in making the decision. That did take quite a bit of faith.  I had to take a very deep breath before pressing “send” on the email to the department chair, dean, and VP, even though I could feel my developing ulcer melting away–a sure sign that I had made the right decision.  But now the real test of faith comes.  I must live with my decision–endure another year of home-hopping, borrowing money, and praying for a job.  I worried initially that I had simply chosen the path of least resistance.  All I have to do is read that last sentence and that particular fear melts away.  No, this will take quite a bit of faith, but I think I might have it in me.

Who knew I would ever be so excited to go back to Utah?  I guess miracles really do happen.

Life continues to be complicated

You know, I used to think that there was this point in life where you just figured things out and then it was just a matter of maintenance from there. I am coming to realize what a joke that notion is.

Last week I was actively counting down my weeks here in Rexburg.  I have loved loved loved teaching. My kids are a riot. They invite me to their birthday parties, their sporting events, their dance performances.  I’m even Facebook friends with some of them. They have begged me to stay and teach in the fall so their friends can take my class (and so that they can come see me in my office).  The kids are not the problem. It’s Rexburg.

It’s windy and cold here and summer only decided to show up yesterday. But let me tell you, this place is tempting in the sunshine. So when my department chair came to my office Monday and offered me a full time position at BYU-I, it wasn’t as easy of a decision as I thought it would be.  He told me I had a week to decide. The next day the dean of my college called me on my cell to ask me the same thing: would I stay full time for a year?  Oh, and by the way, you have one hour to tell us yes or no because we have to submit your name to Salt Lake by 5.

No pressure.

There were so many variables. When my department chair initially offered me the job, I felt sick inside. I have been so lonely up here, to the point that I have driven to Utah almost every weekend since I moved here.  But after sleeping on the idea of being gainfully employed for an entire year, with benefits, at a university, I wasn’t so sure.

Dad and I talked for the bulk of my hour.  I finally came to the conclusion that I would ask them if they could submit my name and one other (they said they had a plan b) so that I could start the interview process without having to commit and without leaving them in a lurch if I backed out.  When I called them back, they said there was no plan b anymore and that I was free to withdraw my application at any point up until I signed the contract. If I did, they wouldn’t be in any worse of a position than they are now.

So, my name is submitted and I have no idea what to do.  I have my GA interview next week and then the ball is really rolling. On the one hand, it’s amazing professional experience. I would be gainfully employed, which means I would be able to afford a trip to see my DC friends, who I miss desperately, or take that trip to Harry Potter World Lea and I have been talking about forever.  On the other hand, I really miss my family. I spent 7 years across the country from them, and while that was such an important experience for me, in this time of recovery I feel more than ever that I need to be near them. Especially my dad.  I also would hate to leave yet another teaching credential program behind unfinished. The real rub is the ratio of unemployed, licensed teachers in Utah to available jobs. That scares me. But I don’t know if it scares me more than being snowed in up here for the winter. Or being 30 and single in Rexburg. Or being stuck in Idaho if something happens to my dad. Or missing the only year me, Tom and Brian will all live in the same state again. Or not singing with Concert Choir in the fall.

The real problem, above everything else is that this offer has validated every decision I have made this last year: leaving my job and life in DC to change careers, to move to Idaho to give this teaching thing a whirl, to fulfill my mother’s literal dying wish for me to fulfill my true potential and become a teacher. They want me. They are impressed with what they see. For the first time maybe ever, I am starting to see my true talents, my real gifts, and the difference I am making.  All because I had the courage to leave Skadden and just try. It has been a hell of a year, but suddenly it seems all worth it with one job offer.  But is it enough to give up the rest? Is my ego really that fragile? Perhaps. But there will be other jobs. Right? If these people can see it, then hiring boards in Utah will be able to see it. Right?

See what I mean? Complicated.

some rewards from teaching

Turns out teaching college can be pretty fun.  Nevermind the fact that I had nightmares EVERY NIGHT THIS WEEK about today’s lesson (it didn’t go quite as bad as I dreamed but also not quite as well as I’d hoped–a fair compromise, I suppose).  But honestly, most days it’s just pretty fun.  My first class is my favorite. They are spirited, they are open, and they are really vocal about their love for me. :)

I had one student stay after the other day to ask me a question, then she said something that made me give a silent cheer inside.  She said that she had never had a professor who was focused so much on them actually learning.  She has felt in the past that every other class was just a “check the box” kind of experience.  She appreciates that I take the time to explain why I’m having them do certain things, giving them previews of how they are going to use these skills both in this class and in their lives.  We have done some great critical thinking and it’s been so satisfying to watch each of them get to know themselves a little bit better.  She said, “I actually read to learn now instead of read just to get credit for an assignment.”  It’s the small victories that are huge.

On a funnier note, my first class also loves me to get there nice and early so we can talk about movies and television shows.  The last couple of days I’ve been running a little late, so we’ve only had about 5 minutes for our little chats. Today I arrived with the full 15 minutes to spare before class and they were so excited because somewhere in their Facebook chats with each other, they discovered my animated doppleganger:

Roxanne Ritchi from Megamind

Apparently I even have her personality.  They were seriously so excited about this discovery.  So excited, in fact, that they made me put her picture up on the projector for everyone to see when they walked in.  Without fail, and without prompting, each student was like, “Oh my gosh, Sister Bradshaw, that’s TOTALLY you.”  They were shocked when I told them my hair used to be blonde and almost to my waist.  They were also shocked to find out I had never seen Megamind so I actually had no idea what they were talking about.  My homework this weekend is to watch Megamind.  If it’s anything like their homework to me last week, which was to watch Heavyweights…well, I guess it’s payback for the papers that were due today. :)

These students really are a joy to teach.

Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day to the most extraordinary woman I know.

I love you, mama.

10 years

I was a senior in college when 9/11 happened.  I was shocked, saddened, appalled, scared, and all the other emotions that most of America felt in the wake of that day.  Tonight, it supposedly all came to an end with the announcement that the orchestrator of that day, Osama bin Laden, is dead.  America is rejoicing.  My Facebook feed is full of comments of victory, relief, and the sweetness of revenge.  Justice, they are calling it.  I, too, feel that something momentous has happened, but I can’t seem to shake a feeling of deep sadness.

Bin Laden killed thousands and crowed over us, taunted us, continued to threaten us, sicked his soldiers on us.  It is fairly safe to call him evil.  I imagine there is some degree of closure that these families, both from 9/11 as well as soldiers who have been killed during the war on terror, received tonight.  I don’t know how it feels, so I can only imagine.

But again, there is this feeling of sadness I can’t seem to shake.  After the initial shock of the news passed, my thoughts didn’t turn to justice or victory or anything like it.  They first turned to how unprepared this man is to meet God.  The thought of the confrontation in the afterlife, the accountability for what he has done…well, I’m just glad that I don’t have to witness it.  I think it will be something fearsome and devastating to behold.  My thoughts then turned to his grieving family.  Even though bin Laden did atrocious things, he is still someone’s brother, uncle, son…father.  No matter how much I put his monstrous deeds front and center, I cannot turn off the image of a grieving family.

I hope those reading this (all 5 of you) don’t mistake my feelings.  I do not intend to justify or minimize the terrible pain he has brought on many countries, not just ours.  I also don’t intend to minimize the sacrifice thousands of soldiers have made in trying to bring bin Laden to justice.  I am grateful for all our armed forces do to keep our country safe.  10 years ago, I would have believed that this was the answer, that we could go back to life as we knew it pre-9/11 once the bastard bin Laden was dead.  But I have seen too much to believe that this is the end of fighting in Afghanistan (and the world) and have felt too much pain to rejoice at the loss of another human’s life.  I feel some of the same feelings I felt after 9/11: fear (you know they are going to retaliate), sadness, shock.  It feels like this will never end.  I fear my children may never know what peace looks like.

If you had asked me 10 years ago if I would be praying for bin Laden’s soul once he was found and killed, I would have said you were crazy.  But tonight, it seems that’s all my heart wants to do.

Easter

It’s a little strange to be starting on “seconds” without Mom.  This Easter is quite different than last year. Last year I knew I was leaving DC for San Diego but didn’t have any idea what the summer would hold.  I was simply hanging on for dear life, waiting rather impatiently for April 30 when I could start my drive west.  This year I live in Rexburg with the path of the next year pretty well laid out.  April 30 is just April 30–no trek west–and I’m no longer hanging on for dear life.  In fact, I feel more peace in my heart now than I ever have.  What a distance I’ve covered in a year.  It’s rather remarkable and very appropriate that I record these feelings on this day.

Last year I clung to the spirit of Easter that encompassed the resurrection, praying and hoping that it was true, that I would in fact see Mom again someday and that we would live together forever.

This year I find myself giving constant thanks for the other part of Easter, the healing power of the atonement.  The change, the healing has been so remarkable and profound that I have found myself echoing Enos’ question, “Lord, how is it done?”   I wish I could open my heart and let you all see what has happened.  It is beyond any miracle I ever thought was possible.  Not only is the wound of grief constantly healing, my trust in God continues to grow, my understanding of His ways expands, and my willingness to submit comes with a feeling of peace that I have only read about and wanted but never quite felt.

I have had to pay a dear price.  The loss of my best friend.  6 months of pretty intense counseling.  Tearful prayers. Months of anger and sorting.  A willingness to do things I didn’t want to do.  A willingness to trust God again. A willingness to change.  But at the end of the day none of that alone was enough.  It was all important; I have learned so much, and continue to learn, through this process.  But in the end, the healing and peace has come through the power of the atonement.

I have been cautious about this new development, wondering if the other shoe is going to drop and when.  But as each day passes and new trials are thrown at me, it’s as if it’s a different person riding this rollercoaster of life.  Yes, there are frustrations, there are hard days, there are moments when I wonder what I’m doing.  But there is a new baseline of profound peace and with it comes a new feeling of gratitude.

I’m so grateful Christ didn’t give up on me this past year when I felt ready to give up on Him. And if He didn’t give up on me this last year, I know He never will.

Rexburg

Well, I’m here.

Things I’ve learned in the past 36 hours:

• Spring here is not spring in Utah (is not spring in San Diego…)
• It’s spring enough for people to water their lawns but not spring enough to not put ice on the sidewalk.
• It’s nice to run here but whose brilliant idea was it to build the city on a hill? Anyone?
• It’s almost impossible to get lost here.
• Teaching is exhausting. (You want me to fill an hour?)
• Teaching is terrifying.  (Who needs a syllabus on the first day?)
• Experienced teachers know that if they talk too long their voices will regret it by the middle of the second class.
• I am not an experienced teacher.
• I wish I had done more diligent work in my methods courses.  Moment of truth, here I come.
• I miss my family.

March 31

Tonight my little two month old nephew woke up crying a cry I had never heard before.  I’ve heard hungry, I’ve heard poopy, I’ve heard gassy.  But this one was different.  He sounded scared.  As I picked him up, I thought he must have had a little nightmare.  I began to wonder, what do babies have nightmares about?  Their experience is so limited, is it about not having food or shelter?  Does it hark back to memories that we have since lost about the pre-earth life but that are still fresh in their little memories?  He was almost inconsolable.  As I talked softly to him and rocked him, he calmed a little bit I could still tell he was unsettled.  When his mom took him from me, he calmed instantly.  In my heart, I could totally relate.  Having friends comfort me this last year has been wonderful but not entirely settling.  If I just had one moment in my mother’s arms…perhaps my heart would be at peace. I don’t know.  I guess I’ll never know until the day it happens.  Sometimes I dream about it.  It’s always wonderful in my dreams.  I think it will be in reality as well.  It’s hard to wait.

March 30

I’m reading a new book at the recommendation of my counselor.  I only felt a little bit guilty about spending my entire break today engrossed in it.  I consider counseling to be one of my “classes” and it actually consumes quite a bit of my mental energy throughout the week.  We are making really good progress, though, so the time investment is worth it.  This book is about having a warring heart or a peaceful heart and how we get from peaceful to warring and back to peaceful.  It is one of those books I think I’m going to have to read several times and then talk about a lot in order to really process it.  I have a lot of reservations about the philosophy it advocates, but I am willing to give it a go, or at least consider what adopting it would do for my quality of life.  I’ll keep you posted.