My family left this morning. After three days of five people in a room, a kitchen whirlwind, bantering and arguing (as only families do), they left at 4:30 am. And now there's this hole. I miss them so much.
It's difficult to recount all that's happened in the past 4 weeks. I cannot even begin to imagine that it's been nearly four weeks since I boarded a plane and left for Washington. How did time fly so quickly? And how have I made so little progress in my dissertation? Of course, there was the detour through Boston and New York, and then the writing up of the conference paper and the lesson planning for next week's Renaissance course. There is all of that. But still, I think part of the anxiety that I'm feeling and my own hesitation for going to this conference in Dublin (in 1 hour) is due to that stagnant PhD. And for the first time, I think I might be having a panic attack.
But these are the times where I have to remember whose I identity I've taken on, and I have to remember the lessons learned, the love which surrounds me daily, the grace that God showers. I need to remember. That is my tow line. Because if I forget (and there is a high chance that I will), then I will drown.
6 weeks away from one's PhD is too long. But it's been done before. Life interrupts, and you become short of breath and it's difficult to juggle everything. Life is also about waiting and being faithful - two themes that have run side by side in my life this year. To wait and to be faithful, without being disappointed or falling into despair. My heart's gauge needs to point upwards, and I need to remember what it feels like to laugh with my best friends, to connect with them, to yield to the full embrace of my family, and to feel the whisper of God's breath across my ear.
Because they were leaving at 4:30 am this morning, my family thought it would make more sense to stay at my place rather than book an extra night at the bed and breakfast next door. It caused me much anxiety, having so many people in my room at one time, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. As my dad slept on my yoga mat (it's really comfortable), my sister on the air mattress, and my brother on two chairs, I slipped in beside my mom (who slept on my very narrow bed). The two of us huddled there, fast asleep. And from time to time during the night, I would feel her arm wrap around me and her whisper that I smelled nice and that she loved me so much. My body would stiffen in reaction, but now, in her absence, I wish I could have yielded fully to her embrace, and let her love me so that she would know just how much I loved her, and everyone else in my family.
Washington gave me drive and redirected my spiritual compass. It gave me independence and strength. My family's quick dip into my life has touched the very roots of me, the softest part, and I'm left trying to reconcile the two.
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