A Single Step

There was a week-long struggle. I had been nominated for a role, which would require me to contribute in a more significant manner at work. I felt apprehensive about my own ability, uncertain this was the right thing for me, unsure that I was ready. I considered telling my bosses my feelings upfront. I almost decided that I should tell the interview panel straight off that I didn't feel ready. But, I just didn't feel at peace about doing so.

There was uneasiness, yet accompanied by the undeniable conviction that the act of going for the nomination interview, instead of closing that door, would be a step of faith - a step ordered by God. I didn't want to do it, and procrastinated about preparing for as long as I could. Still, I did it. 

I went for the interview, having prepared all I could, and didn't breathe a word at all about being less than ready, far from adequate. There was some turmoil. 

Had it gone well, I might never have had thought it needful to write. No, it went awkwardly. There were questions I could not answer, and many encouraging smiles from the kind interviewers in their attempt to eke out a lengthier, more well-informed response from me, all to little avail. It went embarrassingly. The impulse to call it quits was quick to hit, the moment I left the interview room. The felt need for a career contingency plan presented itself readily.

And yet, a mere hour or so later, peace arrived. The uneasiness, embarrassment, apprehension were all gone. The joy found in doing each waiting task returned. There was a newfound commitment to develop myself professionally. The self-doubt departed, being dismissed as irrelevant. This quiet assurance came - that it is possible to keep on walking this path. This is not assurance that promises a known destination: the destination envisioned by the organisation, my bosses, my peers, society at large, or even myself. All that is known is the voice which has called me to keep on keeping on - taking each step ordered by Him alone. 

Remembering, tonight, that this was how it all started. That first step. That lack of certainty of a destination. This was enough. It still is. 

"Take your time... Walk as far as you like and then return."

"And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left."  Isaiah 30:21 (ESV)

"The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and He delighteth in his way." Psalm 37:23 (KJV) 

"By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going." Hebrews 11:8 (NIV)

My decision, His reasons

Sometimes I wonder… Why do we make such surprising, seemingly unreasonable decisions sometimes? We have our reasons, all the time, but God has His, too.

This is the view from where I sit to work on my assignments. Our lovely hydrangea and thyme plants! 

Just about a month ago, I began my Maymester course. It was a short but intense course, involving 15 hours of class per week, and spanning four weeks in all. This meant also, that all assignments would have had to be completed within those four weeks too. On top of this, I had my culminating Masters “Capstone” project to deal with. This would be due about two weeks from the end of the Maymester course.

I’m sure you’d guess that my classmates and I wanted the class to be a breeze, and for the assignments to be easy. This makes good sense, doesn’t it? But I found myself deciding on the tougher option, only to later discern a divine hand in the whole matter.

This is a course for both masters and doctoral students. This means that while the doctoral students attend the same classes as us, their assignments are more demanding. In this case, the doctoral students were required to write a research proposal, as though for a dissertation project, as their final assignment. In the course syllabus, it was stated that masters students were offered this choice too. However, the other available choice for us was (simply) to write a lesson plan. During our first class, the professor informed us upfront that the masters students would do the lesson plan option, while the sole doctoral student would do the research proposal. I think she was quite right to assume that no masters student would sensibly choose to do the hulking task of writing a 25 page research proposal within a two week period and with the Capstone hovering in the background the way it was.

Somehow, though, I found myself drawn to the research proposal task. Generally, I had my good reasons:

            - The M.Ed. program I was enrolled barely deals with how to conduct research at all; I felt this would alleviate that weakness somewhat, in a ‘something is better than nothing’ kind of way

            - The research proposal would be for a qualitative study – a topic of fascination to me

            - I anticipate that I’ll be needing to do research in my future work

            - I had the seed of an idea for the research study

And so, I wrote the professor, and asked if I could possible take on the research proposal option. At that point, it was all quite hypothetical. I just thought, oh well, I might as well explore this…

But the professor came back saying that yes, she thought it would be great if I did the research proposal! And immediately, I was struck with a serious case of ice cold feet. It was partially the sheer expected length of the paper in the short time frame. It was also my awareness I have had no prior experience writing research proposals in an academic setting, and wouldn’t be familiar with the style and vocabulary that should be used. What did I just get myself into? This was the fear-filled refrain that hauntingly echoed in the background at that time.

The most crippling thought, however, was worse. You’re simply not a doc student, and so you won’t be able to do it! Spot on, I thought. I am definitely not a doc student. Nowhere close.

I did contemplate backing down. After all, we must all make an accurate assessment of our own abilities and resources before embarking on a task. It is simply good sense to do so. No one would argue otherwise.

And so, one day, I remember coming back from class, discouraged by something or other and deciding, okay, I’ll do the lesson plan instead. And so I settle down with my books to begin the day’s readings. The readings turn out all to be about how to conduct the exact type of research I was planning to do. The kind of research I had just given up on writing. In fact, they were models of the kind of research I had in mind. Okaaay. Perhaps I shouldn’t give up yet.

And so I don’t. But it’s hard. And one night (You’d remember the short time frame – so this would have to be maximum two or three nights later), after spending the whole day turning the ideas around on paper and in my head, I hit a dead end, and lying on my bed that night, think, okay, I’ll just do the lesson plan. Rightos. Goodnight.

But when I awake, I realize that having come so far, it would make little sense to give up just like that. And so I take the task back on, and head out to school. Who would know, but class that day is all about conducting research – yes, including the kind my research proposal would be on. I feel goosebumps, at the uncanny timeliness of this provision of exactly what I need.

And so I keep at it, day after day. Nearing the end, I even get to share my ideas with my doctoral student classmate, who shares his excellent resources with me, and helps me out with all that terminology I lack for expressing my ideas. And just like this, it got done. It’s now with my professor, waiting to be graded. It wasn’t the easy option, and I’d be surprised if it was just I who was involved in choosing this option, sticking with it, and bringing it to pass.

The truth is, it wasn’t me. At the end of this experience, I simply have God to thank for encouraging me at all those crucial moments when I was just about to give up, through providing the very thing I needed to take the next step. It wasn’t that He provided all these resources all at once in the beginning. If that were the case, knowing myself, I may have been overwhelmed instead! Having everything provided in bite-sized portions the way they were saved me the need to organize and search for my resources. They truly were right there, by divine appointment.

Sure, I had to put in a great amount of effort, still. There was a price to be paid in terms of the sheer number of hours I spent working on the paper. There were other resources I’d had to search out. But it felt like those crucial parts, without which I would not be able to complete assembling the piece of furniture, were specially handed to me. Of course, everything proceeds from God’s providence. But, is it fair to say, I felt like there was a special kind of providence at those moments when I needed help to even stay the course?

It’s so easy to breeze through an assignment, using those God-given resources like analytical and critical thinking skills, information synthesizing skills, and writing skills, without paying much attention to the fact that they proceed from God’s gracious (and miraculous) provision. It is familiarity that is to blame, as He’s provided these to us for a long time now, and we’ve gotten used to using them. But I believe that my decision to take on this task beyond my reach was precisely God’s instrument for awakening me to this miracle of His provision.

The archway I walk through on the way to classes. Walks to school are often a time to pray.

So I’d like to confess: God’s hand is indeed in my assignments, and I’m very thankful for that. And, no, my identity is not in being a masters student, or a doctorol student. I am simply a child of God, doing what He’s entrusted for me to do for now, with the resources that are available to all His children, doctoral student or otherwise. Where God guides, it is He who provides.

Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?
- Robert Browning

If wildflowers could speak...

Hiking through the woods yesterday during our day waterfalling trip to Fall Creek Falls, I noticed that we were walking through a corridor of what I thought were Rhododendron bushes. Immediately, it came to mind the last time we saw Rhododendron bushes. That was early last Fall, during our Fall break trip to the Great Smoky Mountains. Then, the Rhododendrons were not in bloom. I remember us trying to match what was written in the nature guide leaflet with what we were observing around us. There were none of the blooms described, nor their accompanying fragrance. We managed, though, to recognize its leaves – very dark green, round-tipped, medium sized and distinctly waxy. I remember us making a mental note to revisit those Smoky Mountains woods again, perhaps in spring when the flowers would be blooming.

Rhododendrons at Cheekwood Botanical Gardens

Alas, all that came to mind in an unrelenting wave yesterday, more or less sparked off by that stroll through the Rhododendron corridor. Later that night, curled up in bed trying to identify the names of the wildflowers I had seen and taken photographs of, I felt that regret once again. These were summer wildflowers I was identifying… what about the spring ones? How could we have lived through an entire spring, without taking some just-to-see-the-wildflowers walks? And how nice, I thought, if we had gone for an early April trip to the Smoky Mountains!

Rhododendrons at Cheekwood again, intensely red

I know it was just over wildflowers, and if you are not as wild over flowers as I am, this may sound highly uncalled for and exaggerated. Still, an intense sense of regret I did feel, and it was over wildflowers.

And it made me think (as I was kneading a bowl of bread dough just an hour ago) about this thing called regret. I’ve definitely encountered regret in many more circumstances than what is purely botanical. I’ve regretted plenty of bad decisions and wasted hours, friends slighted and words spoken and left unsaid. I’ve regretted hurting others by all of the above, or not having chosen the way of love.

Tulips at Cheekwood

But, as God’s providence would have it, the humble wildflower, by way of their absence, has a sermon for me. The truth is, though spring was a very busy month for me, with many school deadlines and some social events, we did try to take walks at our favorite parks in the Nashville area. We do have precious memories of spotting wildflowers in early spring, with a gallery of photographs to show for it (some featured here). We even went to the botanical gardens to catch the tulips in bloom, and made it a point to check on the newest openings at nearby Scarritt-Bennett Center. The truth is, we had been overwhelmed all spring by flowers, wild or not.

In early spring, flowering trees were everywhere

Then comes this little thing that tries to discount all of that, and make me obsessed over that one thing that wasn’t mine to have. Be thankful, I heard the absent wildflowers say. There is always so much more to have, to have been able to have had. Just be thankful, was their whisper from one season ago.

Narcissus flowers gazing over a stream at Edwin Warner Park

Also, there is that little dichotomy between what I want and what I need. What exactly had I been doing all spring, I found myself asking last night, as I contemplated the pink lady slipper* I hadn’t gone to seek out. Well, the truth is that I had been working hard on all my assignments, going in to my practicum site two to three times a week, still making sure Sundays were free for some leisure time, having my hands full, and enjoying every bit of it. In all honesty, I was fully convinced of how I wanted to spend those April days, and this was especially true, of all times, during those April days.  I remember reading somewhere that regret can be countered by knowing that whatever we found ourselves with at those times when we thought later there could have been an instead, was exactly what we needed then. In view of providence, this can be seen to be true. Even regrets about bad decisions can be seen that way, when they are looked upon as opportunities through which we learned. After all, we all do need to learn. And, recognizing our need to learn acknowledges that we are fraught with human weakness; so fraught that we often know not what we need.

A crowd of curious Pansy faces

Aren’t those wildflowers verbose? But there’s more. Well, just a little. Don’t feel too bad that you didn’t come to see us this spring, they seem to say, but we missed you still! And with a dainty, demure nod of their tiny heads, they end their sermon and vanish. So next time, if I can, I’ll definitely reserve a few more spots in my weekly planner for wildflowers. But I may not be able to. And if I can’t, I’ll have to take that, too, in my stride, as my wildflower friends preach. 

*Pink Lady slipper is a wildflower from the Orchid family, found in east Tennessee

Life, in the midst of barrenness

Spring in Tennessee was beyond anything I could have imagined spring to be. I remember thinking at one point that Tennessee must be one of the best places to experience spring - greens greener than green, trees in bloom, flowers everywhere taking their turn to spring into exuberant bloom. 

Driving along the roads in the harsh landscape, on some stretches there would be these lining the road for miles on end 

Going from that glorious spring into the wilderness of Colorado, Utah and Arizona, flowers were far from my mind, and just not what I had expected to see in the desert. Cacti? Maybe so, and just one or two varieties of them. Wildflowers in an array of colors? Definitely not. 

Cliff-rose

Yet, I found that it is precisely the desolate nature of the desert that brings out even more strongly the beauty of the wildflowers. Perhaps, it was the power of contrast and juxtaposition. Life, in the midst of barrenness; delicate beauty, in spite of a harsh landscape; healing, in the most unexpected of places. Each desert wildflower - a sign of God's faithful providence. 

The number 'five' represents grace

For Christians, the desert is often seen as a place of testing and temptation - the place we would all avoid if we possibly could. Nonetheless, who can say that they shall never encounter difficult circumstances in their lives, or that their character has never been painfully tested? Despite this, many would testify that it is precisely in wilderness experiences, the more trying of life's situations, that they found themselves more keenly aware of God's providence and presence. We cherish His forgiveness, when we grieve over our wrong; we cling to hope, when the reasons to give up loom large; we need His healing, when we are not whole. 

Yucca, a plant with medicinal value

In a world that is thirsting, hungry, and suffering, each desert wildflower is a much-needed sign of life - that God and His promises are with us, we need only choose to notice. 

My favorite desert wildflower, the Indian Paintbrush. It's bright vermillion reminds me of a brilliant sunset

I will never leave you nor forsake you. Hebrews 13:5b (ESV)

God's Promises

Water - A gift everyday, even more heartfelt with a sore throat

At the end of the day, it's God's promises that matter. Will the plans of my finite mind come to pass? What about my fears? Both melt away in the light of His love and wisdom.

Today, I'm simply thankful for God's promises that saw me through the week. I want to remember these over and over again.

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song.
Psalm 28:7 NIV 

Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord's unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him.
Psalm 32:10 NIV 

The Lord foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations.
Psalm 33:10-11 NIV 

A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.
Psalm 33:17-19 NIV 

We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.
Psalm 33: 20 NIV

Signs of spring cannot withstand the cold blast of an Arctic frost, but God's love remains unchanging