We are here waiting, still in an undecided place, but as far as updates go... Patrick had an interview nearly four weeks ago for an aerospace company in Seattle and was told last week to expect an offer, as they were working to write one on Thursday or Friday. He also has an interview today and tomorrow at another company for a similar position, and they are on a more committed timeline.
I met with the Dean of Arts and Sciences for a college in a southern suburb of Seattle yesterday about some courses that she needs to fill; she called me last Friday to come in and discuss the courses. As I sat in front of her honest face yesterday, prepared to respond to her first question, "Why do you want to teach English 97 (how to write a sentence)?," I saw my future flash before me. I would teach outlining, developmental writing, the five paragraph essay, and possibly, eventually evolve into an English Ph.D. candidate privileged enough to teach juniors and seniors the intricacy of metaphoric language and embedded feminist theory in Thoreau’s Walden. I felt a lump in my throat, and I could only respond with honesty. Why do I want to teach English 98 at Pierce college? I don’t. So I was silent, and the interview ended courteously. In fact, she may still call me because they are that desperate.
Waiting isn't easy, but it isn't difficult either. It's simply a setting in life that is unique. I wander through days distracted and patient, occupied with books, musings, and conversations. But when faced with the small daily decisions, the larger life-purpose questions are not far behind and surface persistently.
For example, I could choose to blog, work on a novel, study for the GRE, or read parenting manuals during my excess free time (note: we are not planning to have children at this point, but it is simply an option that many my age choose to pursue), but choosing one activity supports a certain future aspiration, and at the same time neglecting another selects against a pathway. If I want to become a novelist, a journalist, a professor, or a mother, those are distinct paths that require planning and preparation that could benefit from my time. But I cannot choose. I know most days what I would prefer, and other days what I will absolutely not choose, but they all seem to linger as I finish my bowl of Wheaties each morning and contemplate a first activity.
All of that is to say that life is rarely rosy and simple, even in the freedom of abundant time.
I received a gift from my mother-in-law, Sarah. A book titled, The World According to Mr. Rogers. He wrote a short passage that says,
"I wrote in a song that in the long, long trip of growing, there are stops along the way. It's important to know when we need to stop, reflect, and receive. In our competitive world, that might be called a waste of time. I've learned that those times can be the preamble to periods of enormous growth."
As a child I watched Mr. Rogers while multi-taking. Some of the limited few PBS shows that I was allowed to watch, captivated my full attention. But I always found the pace, the songs, and the rhythmic zipping up of the sweater, feeding the fish, and eating a wholesome lunch with a glass of milk, simply routine. I could put together a puzzle and play with a plastic farm while listening to his solemn lessons.
Reflecting on the way that I experienced his program, and simultaneously reading his words of wisdom, I see the authentic conviction that ran from the show, consistent with his personal life. Although marketed to children, Mr. Rogers reflected a life of patience, perseverance, peace, and pleasure in moments that others such as Sesame Street and Barney or The Puzzle Place did not do as well between outbursts of songs, dancing, bright colors, and quick edits between scenes to hold a short attention span.
I have the sense that Fred Rogers, even from his theme song, grasped the essence of being. "So let's make the most of this beautiful day; since we're together we might as well say...won't you be my neighbor?" Both italicized phrases are being phrases rather than doing phrases. They suggest acceptance and embrace of a moment, epitomizing the life and potential in circumstances as they are, to find beauty and an opportunity for service, friendship, love, and growth.
He's a new hero. I didn't understand him as a child, but as an adult his wisdom has provided far more richly than Ernie's snigger or Elmo's giggle ever have.
Back to Seattle again in the morning. Let's talk again soon.
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