Author: plainswriter

I'm a poet, fiction writer, and essayist. I'm also a freelance editor at nlhwritingservices.com.

Mourning

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Hospitality

–in Memoriam, Charlotte M. Hill (1926-2012)

When I got the call from Mom,
saying you were in hospice,
it was as I expected
and hoped, for I wanted you
to suffer no longer, your body
already wracked beyond
medications’ or surgery’s
extensive but finite reach,
only divine healing a real
possibility.

Maybe some had prayed
for that those last months,
weeks, and days, and I did too,
but ceased from prayers for healing,
instead requesting God’s peace,
the only one we cannot fathom,
the only one that cannot be broken.

Yet when I spoke to you
(after Mom said you couldn’t speak),
you did just that–words your way
of showing love, conversation
your gift, however strained.
You said I made you proud.
I said, I love you.  You said the same.

And now, your struggle done,
I imagine you serving at the table
of the Lord.  Even though none will lack
anything, you’ll still ask everyone
(once, twice, three times) if they
have enough–not from lack of faith–
but because you want all
to hunger and thirst no more.

Done With School (Sort of)

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Now I can write about whatever I want: there are no assignments from other professors, no assigned books to read.  I can read whatever I want to.  That freedom is overwhelming and scary.  With the exception of three years off while my wife attended graduate school, and the one semester I took off while working on my master’s degree, I had been in school continually from age 5 through 34.  That’s crazy.

Of course, I still measure my life by the semester, by the yearly academic calendar, but gone are the assignments that I have to complete for any kind of grade.  As a professor, I have my share of paperwork to fill out, I have reports to write, I have assigned tasks to complete, but nothing like having to read Lacan and to be expected to discuss his ideas in a coherent manner.

In some ways, it’s a little sad being finished, partly because I’ve always enjoyed school, partly because I miss the conversations with my professors, both in and out of class.  There’s also the camaraderie one experiences in grad school, as the workload creates an environment of mutual suffering.  Just kidding.   Perhaps that’s true for some people, but I didn’t often complain about the work I did in grad school, even at the doctoral level.

See, I took my current job after having finished three years in my program.  I saw the ad, wavered for weeks on whether to apply, finally did, and then was offered the job.  However, I still had to take one more class, take three written exams, orally defend my exams, and construct and defend a dissertation.  Because I had been ahead of the game, I already had a solid idea of what would be in my dissertation, a collection of short-fiction.  So when people asked how my first full year was, I said I didn’t have an accurate picture; I said I’d know better once I was no longer both a student and a full-time professor.

I survived the first year, mostly through God’s grace, and also from the grace, patience, and encouragement my wife exhibited.  Through the toughest stretches, I was determined not to be one of the people who land the job but never complete the degree.  I’d come too far not to see it through, no matter how strenuous it might be.

So come this fall, I’ll start to experience what it’s like to be a professor, without trying to finish up a Ph.D.  I can’t wait.

Learning Rest

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The last year in my PhD program has made me sympathetic to those individuals who are a part of these statistics: 1) roughly 50% of people who begin doctoral programs do not finish them 2) roughly 50% of people who make it to the ABD (all but dissertation) stage do not complete their degrees 3) the average time for completion of a PhD is seven years.

This year has probably been the most challenging of my life.  Attempting to be a dedicated Christ-follower, a good husband and father, an excellent teacher and colleague, while taking a last doctoral class, two written exams, an oral defense, and completing a dissertation has been overwhelming.  Throughout the last nine months, I’ve often felt as though I’m skimping on my commitments in these areas, but now that only one final hurdle remains (a dissertation defense in six weeks), the business has lessened, and I’ve begun an experiment, stemming from the idea of “Sabbath.”

For the last four Sundays, beginning with Easter, I’ve declined from doing any work for my job.  As a college professor, I can always be doing work–“normal” workday hours (9-5, 8-4, etc.) are not a possibility.  Nonetheless, my experiment so far resulted in many benefits, of which I’ll name three: 1) More energy for Monday, and the rest of the week 2) more time with my wife and son 3) more time for leisurely reading.

I’m not concerned with creating a list of “approved” and “unapproved” activities/tasks for my Sundays; I am, however, concerned about honoring God, devoting time to my family, and allowing myself to “rest.”  See, when I first met my wife, I did not have the world’s strongest work ethic.  But from the time I finished my MFA, I began to change, such that when I entered my PhD program in 2007, I had the important skills of a dedicated “workaholic,” and for the first three years of my program, I worked hard, harder than I’d ever worked in my life.  I missed out on far too much valuable time with my wife, my friends, and (later) my son.

Now my weekly day of rest is part of a larger plan to develop a better balance between the extremes of laziness and overwork.  It’s working thus far.  I’d like to think I’m a better Christ-follower, a better husband and father, a better teacher, a better writer.  And in case you were wondering, I don’t view writing blog posts as work.