Tuesday morning about 4:30am, I got up to use the restroom, and I heard the water running downstairs. At first I thought Drew must be showering, but it is not like him to be up that early and showering. So I decided to go downstairs and check. Sure enough, the shower was going, but there was no one in it. Just the cold water was on, the soap was on the floor of the shower, and the rug was damp because the shower curtain was open. I was afraid that some water line had broken or something, but I just turned the handle, and it stopped immediately. Very strange.
In checking with Drew the next day, he did not take a shower that night, and since we did not have any guests, the incident is puzzling. Any thoughts out there?
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Moving On
I heard my son Drew sing a song at a concert recently. The tune was melancholy and the sweetness of his voice made the words even more so:
"There is a voice that Has no name,
It comes in Evening, or behind the rain.
I have no time now to stop and explain-
I just keep moving, 'cause it helps to ease the pain.
The night has music that calls to me,
across the canyons of an endless sea.
I seek the shadows, of yesterday-
Today can't hold me, so I must be on my way.
Speak to me softly but tell me no lies,
I see tomorrow shining in your eyes.
I have no time now to stop and explain-
I just keep movin 'cause it helps to ease the pain."
Life is full of crossroads, the places in life where we make a choice, or something happens to make that choice for us. Either way, we face a life that is different from the life we had before. Often, I want to cling to that old life because it was comfortable, and I was used to it; I may even have loved that old life. But it is gone. I have no choice; life is moving on, and I cannot stop it.
Sometimes the movement of life, the fact that life goes on, is a saving feature in sorrow. There are things to do, and as Frost said, "Miles to go before I sleep." Life's movement becomes a shield from the pain of change. At some point, however, we must move, too, not just rest on the movement of life itself. We must become agents, subjects who make the choice to move on with life, to dare to make a new, a better life.
"There is a voice that Has no name,
It comes in Evening, or behind the rain.
I have no time now to stop and explain-
I just keep moving, 'cause it helps to ease the pain.
The night has music that calls to me,
across the canyons of an endless sea.
I seek the shadows, of yesterday-
Today can't hold me, so I must be on my way.
Speak to me softly but tell me no lies,
I see tomorrow shining in your eyes.
I have no time now to stop and explain-
I just keep movin 'cause it helps to ease the pain."
Life is full of crossroads, the places in life where we make a choice, or something happens to make that choice for us. Either way, we face a life that is different from the life we had before. Often, I want to cling to that old life because it was comfortable, and I was used to it; I may even have loved that old life. But it is gone. I have no choice; life is moving on, and I cannot stop it.
Sometimes the movement of life, the fact that life goes on, is a saving feature in sorrow. There are things to do, and as Frost said, "Miles to go before I sleep." Life's movement becomes a shield from the pain of change. At some point, however, we must move, too, not just rest on the movement of life itself. We must become agents, subjects who make the choice to move on with life, to dare to make a new, a better life.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Miracles
Today I accepted a job offer: come August, I will be Assistant Professor of Humanities at Kendall College of Art and Design. That might not sound like a miracle, but I assure you, it was designed and engineered by God.
Three weeks or so ago when my husband accepted a position at Western Michigan University, I was sent into a wild, last-minute desperate search for work in the same area. I checked the usual spots--JIL and the Chronicle (places where academics in English look for jobs), and then resorted to Googling for colleges in the area. I was astounded at the number, but began looking through their websites, just hoping for part-time work. I went to the Thomas Aquinas University site and just browsed through the English faculty page. I looked at the faces and suddenly felt compelled to call the chair of the department. Those of you who know me recognize that my calling someone like this, out of the blue, is about as likely as my flying to the moon. The chair was on sabbatical, but was checking voice mail, so I left a message. After a few rounds of voice-mail tag, we finally talked. He didn't have any work for me, but his wife was on the search committee at another school, and the search had ended unsuccessfully. He would pass on my information to them. I thanked him and waited.
I then decided that if the people ever called, they would still need my information, so I put together the usual application stuff and sent it off on a Friday. The following Tuesday I got a call asking me to fly back for an interview. So one week later I was on a plane to Grand Rapids. I interviewed on Wednesday, and today (Friday) the president called and made the offer.
This position is not only an answer to prayer, it is more than I asked for. God not only gave me work, he gave me a tenure-track job in an environment I will love--an art school--and with a lower class load than I have had in too many years to remember. He led me to a place I would not have found, and to a position for which I would not likely have applied because I would have thought myself not what they were looking for. And under different circumstances, they might not ever have asked me to interview if I had applied earlier!
The whole incident reminds me, once again, that "God always gives His best to those who leave the choice to Him." Amen.
Three weeks or so ago when my husband accepted a position at Western Michigan University, I was sent into a wild, last-minute desperate search for work in the same area. I checked the usual spots--JIL and the Chronicle (places where academics in English look for jobs), and then resorted to Googling for colleges in the area. I was astounded at the number, but began looking through their websites, just hoping for part-time work. I went to the Thomas Aquinas University site and just browsed through the English faculty page. I looked at the faces and suddenly felt compelled to call the chair of the department. Those of you who know me recognize that my calling someone like this, out of the blue, is about as likely as my flying to the moon. The chair was on sabbatical, but was checking voice mail, so I left a message. After a few rounds of voice-mail tag, we finally talked. He didn't have any work for me, but his wife was on the search committee at another school, and the search had ended unsuccessfully. He would pass on my information to them. I thanked him and waited.
I then decided that if the people ever called, they would still need my information, so I put together the usual application stuff and sent it off on a Friday. The following Tuesday I got a call asking me to fly back for an interview. So one week later I was on a plane to Grand Rapids. I interviewed on Wednesday, and today (Friday) the president called and made the offer.
This position is not only an answer to prayer, it is more than I asked for. God not only gave me work, he gave me a tenure-track job in an environment I will love--an art school--and with a lower class load than I have had in too many years to remember. He led me to a place I would not have found, and to a position for which I would not likely have applied because I would have thought myself not what they were looking for. And under different circumstances, they might not ever have asked me to interview if I had applied earlier!
The whole incident reminds me, once again, that "God always gives His best to those who leave the choice to Him." Amen.
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