I have had a big fish on the line for the last couple of months. I wanted to blog about it, but I felt it wise to wait to see if I would get it in the boat or it would get away. It seems it got away. My line has snapped. Fishie go bye bye.
Now, instead of writing about the new chapter in my life, the new transition, the new adventure, instead I am going to write about the disappointment, the frustration, and the confusion I find myself experiencing. Instead of writing to interest my readers with an unusual story, now I am writing to purge my own soul of a toxic reality.
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At the university where I teach engineering, there is a large apartment-style dorm that is dedicated to engineering students. A lot of the students that are in my classes live there, and I have been there many times for various events. It's a beautiful building and the university is rightfully proud of it. The goal of this concentrated cluster of engineers is to cultivate a sense of identity in the students, to provide a place where they are surrounded and supported by their own kind, and where life-long friendships are forged in the furnace of Fourier transforms and some other thing that starts with f.
Living in the midst of the students, right in the dorm, is the family of an engineering faculty member, called the Faculty in Residence. And as the former FIR was stepping down, the opening for a new one was announced last November. I came home one day to discuss with my wife the idea of applying for it. Surely, I thought, The M would be open to this. Surely she would, like I did, immediately see how we were perfect for this role. Surely she would see the vision I had for it and for our family and agree that this was the greatest idea in the history of good ideas.
"What? Sell the house and move into a college dorm? Are you crazy?" What about the boys' school? They were both thriving in their schools. It's not a good time to sell the house. "Maybe in ten years" she said. I listened for a while, but I was not convinced that her cons outweighed my pros. Nonetheless, after so many years of marriage I have learned when to push now and when to wait and push later. It was time to push later.
Now, instead of writing about the new chapter in my life, the new transition, the new adventure, instead I am going to write about the disappointment, the frustration, and the confusion I find myself experiencing. Instead of writing to interest my readers with an unusual story, now I am writing to purge my own soul of a toxic reality.
-------------------------------Part I----------------------------------------
At the university where I teach engineering, there is a large apartment-style dorm that is dedicated to engineering students. A lot of the students that are in my classes live there, and I have been there many times for various events. It's a beautiful building and the university is rightfully proud of it. The goal of this concentrated cluster of engineers is to cultivate a sense of identity in the students, to provide a place where they are surrounded and supported by their own kind, and where life-long friendships are forged in the furnace of Fourier transforms and some other thing that starts with f.
Living in the midst of the students, right in the dorm, is the family of an engineering faculty member, called the Faculty in Residence. And as the former FIR was stepping down, the opening for a new one was announced last November. I came home one day to discuss with my wife the idea of applying for it. Surely, I thought, The M would be open to this. Surely she would, like I did, immediately see how we were perfect for this role. Surely she would see the vision I had for it and for our family and agree that this was the greatest idea in the history of good ideas.
"What? Sell the house and move into a college dorm? Are you crazy?" What about the boys' school? They were both thriving in their schools. It's not a good time to sell the house. "Maybe in ten years" she said. I listened for a while, but I was not convinced that her cons outweighed my pros. Nonetheless, after so many years of marriage I have learned when to push now and when to wait and push later. It was time to push later.
2 comments:
Very sorry, my friend. I grieve along with you.
May I suggest that you consider a book purchase? Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb. When I was MUCH younger, I dreamed of living full time for most of my life in the countryside of Mexico, as a missionary. That didn't happen. I was shattered for some time. I didn't have a husband to negate my vote, but a group of concerned people in my church and elsewhere who made that decision for me. And now? I am a much more compassionate person than before the Great Correction. Love on, brother. And keep writing.
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