Who to be

On Thursday, I happened to check my gmail (the account I use just for grad school correspondence, mostly) during a break at work, and found an e-mail saying that my admissions decision letter was attached. I knew this wasn't good, as first of all it seemed altogether too early for anyone to have decided they wanted me, and also if they were saying they did want me, it didn't seem like how I would find that out. So I opened the attached document, which confirmed what they regretted to inform me of.

When people asked me if I had a number one school, I told them that I would just see where I got in, first. Which is true. I didn't want to get my hopes-- or anyone else's-- tied to one. But it was not the whole truth. That had been my number one. For years.

I told a couple co-workers, and started to freak out a little, as the actual reality of the scenario that I'd accepted-- in my head-- as a possibility, began to actually take seat in my heart, or wherever panic lives. I almost started to cry as I teetered on the verge of some sort of anxiety attack territory. I do not have a plan B. I mean, I've known all along that I will have to come up with one, if no one lets me in. But I have no idea what that plan B will be. I was hoping for a little guidance, a little nudge in some direction, like maybe getting in someplace (I am terrible at this-- I should say, I am hoping). The grad schools to which I applied are plans A, B, C, D, E, and F, in no real particular order that I am terribly attached to. So really, I'm talking plan G territory, here.

On Friday, I was at work on the most boring should-have-been-snow-day ever. None of my clients who were scheduled came in for their appointments-- nor did any other clients, for that matter. I tried to find work to do on a too-slow, too-quiet afternoon. And apparently I had not learned my lesson from the previous day, which is that I should not look at the gmail while at work, now that I know the dangers that lurk there, sooner than I'd expected. Another school greatly regretting what they had to notify me of. They also claimed to have an "exceptionally large pool of strong applicants" this year, which may be a platitude that they include in rejection letters every year to try and soften the blow, or may be actually true, but in either case it did not soothe me. If they had an exceptionally large pool of strong applicants this year, am I to think those people just applied to that one school? Or the more logical conclusion, which is that I am up against such similarly brutal competition at the remaining four, as well? The second rejection did not have the suddenness of the startling sting of the first one, but my future continued to crumble a little bit more.

Now, I realize I still have four more programs to hear from. Hopefully at least one of them will not be in the form of a rejection e-mail. (Seriously, I'm not used to academic rejection. I'm a great student, and have fabulous test scores, and good recommenders. This is rather new territory for me.) But I know-- have known all along, but it the actuality of this possibility is feeling more real these days-- that that is entirely possible. So if it does, I will have many decisions to make. Do I stay in Denver? Continue taking classes, and try again for the next year? Or take this as a wide open future, and just decide if I want to move somewhere else now? To continue this process once I get residency somewhere else and keep taking classes there-- and retake the general GRE, which would be a bummer, since oh, have I mentioned I aced the math portion?-- or give up this path?

See, here's the problem. Learning about the world, getting excited about animals and nature and how it all works and the amazingness of it all and how it is all wonderfully made, is who I am. I do not really know who to be if I am not doing that. When God was knitting me together in my mother's womb, he decided, I will give this child a sense of wonder at the natural world that will never fade; a love of my creation that will both break her heart and cause it to beat faster at each new discovery, each glimpse of one of my creations, each added understanding of how I built it all with intent and a plan; I will put into her a desire to learn more, see more, love more, and to share that wonder and discovery with others. I will give her the abilities she needs to explore, research, learn, and grow. So I became the child playing with worms under the jungle gym at recess, and the adult who still squeals with delight at seeing some sheep by the side of the road; the girl who checked out nature programs from the library, and the woman who gets really excited about epigenetics (and regular genetics too, for that matter-- ask me to tell you about cheetahs sometime).


So who am I if people tell me I may not do those things? That I am not qualified to find my calling in who God created me to be? Who shall I be?

I know that I can still wonder, love, discover, understand, learn, share, explore and delight, even if no one wants to let me actually pursue a career in doing so. But with the possibility of making that my vocation, I have become discontent with the idea of doing otherwise. I have found fulfillment in being able to use my mental capacities, my enthusiasm, and all the other things God has gifted me with to learn more about his creation. And I want to keep on doing that. I think I can make a difference. If I do not get to pursue my heart, of being a steward of God's creation in this time and place in which I live, then who am I to be instead?

That is the great question I am grappling with right now. Not just, "what am I to do?" but also, "who am I to be?"

Last month at our first monthly women's brunch of the new year (and the first I'd been able to attend in a while, as I'd had a Saturday class all fall), we each chose our "one word" for the year. Not a resolution, or list of tasks to accomplish. But one word that we hoped to have define 2012 for us. And we painted them on little canvases as we sat around tables eating lots of carb-y goodnesses and sharing what those words meant to each of us.

Mine is "trust." Not that I need to trust other people more. Nope, my one word really has just one application, as well. I need to trust that God knows whatever my future is going to be, and has a plan. That I am not adrift on the seas of change and chance, but being steered by someone who knows who I am, and where my best path lies.