today i was spending the afternoon with my littlest. it just ended up that way- a quiet house with only me and bryn. this is rare, and special. he wanted us to read books so we did.
this book, the best nest, is a snap shot of many seasons in my life, and many seasons in the lives of most of my friends. it's about a bird who decides she hates her nest. so she and mr. bird, go in search of perfection. they find many places that look good at first but won't work. when they finally settle on their ideal in a clock tower, and go to work building their nest, it is ruined with the first ringing of the bells. so they return to their original nest and realize that it is best.
there is a lot of talk about where people are going. there is a lot of questioning what is next. there is this idea of finding utopia. there is this idea that the grass is always greener, that ultimate satisfaction is possible, that somewhere holds the key to happiness, that moving closer to ones family or farther from ones family will bring the answer. but what is the question?
for a long time i thought this was just a built in part of the medical education and training process. we'd move every 4 years, from college, to medical school, to residency, to fellowship. then we were finished and the rest of our lives could begin. but we realized that we now lived far away from where our lives had begun. we lived far from our families and our friends and our memories. but the problem was, many of our families had moved away from where our lives had begun too, or we really liked where we'd landed, or we now had kids that had begun their lives somewhere.
but this isn't just about doctors, or even people who've continued in years of higher education and training, it's about people having choices and expectations and the availability of mobility. and while all of this sounds good- i wonder, is it?
i mean when you're stuck in toledo for residency (where i've never been and i'm sure is quite nice), you just make the best of it. but if you've moved there on purpose- with an expectation- and with small ones and a partner- suddenly toledo has a lot to live up to!
it's not the place, it's the people. and there is one person you're stuck with.
here's a little secret, a little something i've figured out along the way.
you can't ever get away from yourself.
scary isn't it.
but it's true.
what is too bad in all of this searching and moving and discussing and planning and stressing and calculating and researching is that we lose the 'now'. we're tripping right over today. we don't dig in because we're sure we're probably leaving. we treat all soil like sand- can't have long roots. and with all of the possibility we lose the stability. how can a community really become a community when everyone is either leaving or talking about leaving? i should know because i've spent a lot of time here- i mean in this place of wondering, ruminating, imagining and not being satisfied.
i must admit. i'm one of the antsiest people i know. i enjoy change and like new experiences. i like rearranging the furniture- sometimes i even need to rearrange the furniture. so sometimes i wonder if i don't chose places to be or people to be with, who also like to rearrange their furniture, or their lives.
for now, i'm glad that i'm in a season of really loving my nest. i mean there are plenty of problems with it- it doesn't always have electricity, it lacks a tv and a dishwasher and cozy rugs and a comfortable couch, and it's very, very far away from the people i love the most. but i've decided to try to rearrange only the furniture. to dig in. to speak and live and be here today, with the plan that it will also be tomorrow and quite possibly many years, and maybe even, dare i say it, forever.
what are we so scared of? what is it that we think we're missing? what is it that we're hoping for? and why are we so sure it's not sitting in our nest, or in our heart or beside us on the couch? i think it might be.
there is a lot of talk about where people are going. there is a lot of questioning what is next. there is this idea of finding utopia. there is this idea that the grass is always greener, that ultimate satisfaction is possible, that somewhere holds the key to happiness, that moving closer to ones family or farther from ones family will bring the answer. but what is the question?
for a long time i thought this was just a built in part of the medical education and training process. we'd move every 4 years, from college, to medical school, to residency, to fellowship. then we were finished and the rest of our lives could begin. but we realized that we now lived far away from where our lives had begun. we lived far from our families and our friends and our memories. but the problem was, many of our families had moved away from where our lives had begun too, or we really liked where we'd landed, or we now had kids that had begun their lives somewhere.
but this isn't just about doctors, or even people who've continued in years of higher education and training, it's about people having choices and expectations and the availability of mobility. and while all of this sounds good- i wonder, is it?
i mean when you're stuck in toledo for residency (where i've never been and i'm sure is quite nice), you just make the best of it. but if you've moved there on purpose- with an expectation- and with small ones and a partner- suddenly toledo has a lot to live up to!
it's not the place, it's the people. and there is one person you're stuck with.
here's a little secret, a little something i've figured out along the way.
you can't ever get away from yourself.
scary isn't it.
but it's true.
what is too bad in all of this searching and moving and discussing and planning and stressing and calculating and researching is that we lose the 'now'. we're tripping right over today. we don't dig in because we're sure we're probably leaving. we treat all soil like sand- can't have long roots. and with all of the possibility we lose the stability. how can a community really become a community when everyone is either leaving or talking about leaving? i should know because i've spent a lot of time here- i mean in this place of wondering, ruminating, imagining and not being satisfied.
i must admit. i'm one of the antsiest people i know. i enjoy change and like new experiences. i like rearranging the furniture- sometimes i even need to rearrange the furniture. so sometimes i wonder if i don't chose places to be or people to be with, who also like to rearrange their furniture, or their lives.
for now, i'm glad that i'm in a season of really loving my nest. i mean there are plenty of problems with it- it doesn't always have electricity, it lacks a tv and a dishwasher and cozy rugs and a comfortable couch, and it's very, very far away from the people i love the most. but i've decided to try to rearrange only the furniture. to dig in. to speak and live and be here today, with the plan that it will also be tomorrow and quite possibly many years, and maybe even, dare i say it, forever.
what are we so scared of? what is it that we think we're missing? what is it that we're hoping for? and why are we so sure it's not sitting in our nest, or in our heart or beside us on the couch? i think it might be.
