Decisiooon! Decision! [Said, or preferably sung, in the style of Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof]

Hello, everyone,

One of the first things I learned when I began working at the preschool was the importance of giving children choices, especially when you’re needing them to do something they’re not wanting to do.  Consider these examples: 

• “Sophie, which cars do you want to pick up? The red ones or the black ones?”
• “Eli, you need to wear boots outside because it’s raining.  Do you want to put them on by yourself or would you like help?”
• “Allie, it’s time to have snack.  You can wash your hands and sit at the table, or you can sit on the rug until you’re ready to wash your hands and sit at the table.”

I say these kind of things all day long.  The main reason to continually give children choices is to help them feel like they have agency or control in a given situation.  Even when there is only one acceptable outcome, as in the last example, phrasing it in a way that gives a child options is empowering.  The ball is in Allie’s court, and even if she is choosing between what she considers to be two negative options, she has the power to decide which negative option is preferable to her in that moment.

In general, we all appreciate having choices.  Most of us want to be able to choose what clothes we wear, what food we eat, whom we befriend, whom we marry, whom we elect as leaders, etc.  Many people around the world have engaged in long, costly struggles to guarantee the right to determine their reality through fair elections.  Having choices is almost always a sign of privilege.  

I am so privileged that I have had more choices than I’ll ever be aware of, and so I report the following with humility and deep gratitude: I have just made the most difficult decision of my life to date.

Some of you may know that I’ve been applying for PhD programs which would begin in the fall.  My goal is to study Children’s Literature, and there were several avenues I could take to do so.  I spent the fall applying to five programs, and this spring learned that I was to choose between two very good options.  The issue is that when you’re choosing between negative options, you can ask yourself, “Which one is least bad?” and just go with the answer.  When you’re choosing between positive options, though, you have to ask yourself “Which one is most good?” partly by also asking “Which good could I most live without?”  It’s often easier for me to gear up for something negative than it is to consider missing out on something positive.  

I’ve gone back and forth for over a month now, trying to determine not only which school to choose, but how to make the decision in the first place.  There is the inevitable and glorious Pros and Cons List, the making of which is second nature to me, and I believe is always a good place to start.  

But there were two problems with relying on a pros and cons list.  The first is that there were far more pros for each program than cons; I was aware from the beginning that I was choosing between two fantastic options.  The second problem is that I could articulate which school was better for a given criterion, but it was much harder to determine which criteria were more important than others.  For example, “School A is in a location that is more appealing to me, but School B seems to have a more supportive environment within the department.”  There were so many factors to consider that I felt like I was on a seesaw, bouncing up and down depending on which factor I was considering in a given moment.

One of my friends mentioned a website called helpmydecision.com.  It has you list your options, then the various factors that will affect the decision.  You are then asked to weigh each factor on a scale of 1-10 to help distinguish which are the ones that are most meaningful.  The site then prompts you to rate each factor for each choice (School A gets a 7 for Factor 1, while School B gets a 4 for Factor 1, etc.).  When you’ve quantified everything you possibly can, you press a button and the site tells you which choice you should make based on the numbers you’ve entered.  

Of course, this is just an algorithm (or at least, I think it is—to be honest, I don’t remember exactly what an algorithm is, but I’ve heard people use the word to describe math-y, internet-y things).  And I certainly wasn’t going to base my future on that.  But I had hoped it might provide some clarity about whether I was leaning in one direction or the other.  Here were my results: 

The difference was essentially negligible! However, while this did nothing to show me which school I should attend, it was validating simply because it showed how split I was; these really were two good choices, and I really didn’t know which way to go.

So I was back on the seesaw.  At one point, a friend, in a joking attempt to be helpful, looked up the state animals for each location, and they were both the White-Tailed Deer

(though I’ve since learned that 11 of the 50 US states claim it as their state animal, which seems to diminish the value of having a state animal, in my opinion, but that’s beside the point).  I looked up the colors for each university, and they were essentially the same too.  I couldn’t even make my decision based on silly, arbitrary factors! 

In the end, the only way I could gain any headway was by talking through everything in my mind with anyone who would listen.  I cannot express how much patience I received from my family, friends, co-workers, and in some cases, even people who border on being strangers.  And ultimately, though I still felt like I was on the fence, many of these people would say, “What I hear you saying is _______.”  No one told me what my decision should be, and I knew all of them would be supportive no matter what I ended up choosing.  But I’ve learned that at times, there is so much going on in my mind and in my heart that I cannot discern any pattern or continuous direction.  I have to rely on other people to tell me what I’m telling myself.   

So what, you may ask, am I telling myself?  Where will I go in the fall?  The answer (finally!) is Ohio State University in Columbus.  I will be getting a PhD in Literature for Children and Young Adults through the Department of Teaching and Learning.  As I mentioned, there are many pros to this school, and I’d be happy to talk with you more about them if you’re interested.  However, the main draw for me was the chance to continue the textual analysis of literature for children while also considering how these texts affect real children.  I will have opportunities to nerd out about literary theory and to work with children in classrooms or other settings.  I am glad that I will be encouraged to consider the work I’ve already done as a teacher as I continue with my studies, and I am excited about the doors that this program might open in the future.  

But mostly, for just this week, I am excited to be done making the decision!  Thank you to everyone who listened to me, reflected my thoughts back to me, prayed for me, and encouraged me along this journey.  Please don’t stop!  I know I will need all the help I can get! 

Have a great week,

Sarah/Mouse

Take Up Thy Cot

Hi, Everyone,

Two nuns are walking at night in Transylvania when a vampire jumps out and begins moving toward them.  “Quick!” one nun says to the other.  “Show him your cross!”  The second sister takes a deep breath and bellows into the vampire’s face, “Get out of the way, you toothy jerk!”  This joke works best heard aloud rather than read, and in cultures where “cross” is a more regular synonym for “angry.”  I got a chuckle out of it, though.

I’ve been thinking a lot about crosses recently.  That is, perhaps, not all that surprising, since this past Friday marked the day when Christians remember Jesus’ crucifixion.  However this year, what struck me most was a comment from a documentary on Martin Luther King Jr. which I began watching recently.  The first MLK quote the filmmakers include is, “I have long since learned that being a follower of Jesus Christ means taking up the cross.”  This struck me so intensely I had to pause the film, but not because it’s such a revolutionary idea.  After all, Dr. King is drawing on centuries of Christian rhetoric—initiated by Jesus himself when he told his followers “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24, NIV).  Nor was I affected by King’s words because they stirred me to some great sacrifice or noble cause.  

In fact, that was the problem.  They stirred me, but to what end?  What, I found myself asking, is my cross?  For quite some time now, I’ve craved having a cause, a fight, a destination to run toward.  I was raised with a deep sense of stewardship, and as such, I am perpetually aware that the talents, resources and circumstances I’ve been given can provide opportunities to serve other people.  What then, I keep asking myself, is my Thing?  How can I serve most fully?  How can I be of most use?  Though these questions are not new to me, they have been especially vehement recently, as I try to make vocational choices (more of that to come in another letter soon).  Whether or not this is true, it often feels like I am bumbling around from one thing to another like a bee laden with pollen but with no clue how to get back to the hive.

And so, with Dr. King’s words echoing in my conscience, I asked yet again: what burden am I made to endure?  And I suddenly thought, what if my cross is the cross of no cross?  What if my biggest struggle for now is the humbling notion that God isn’t asking me to do something exceptionally noteworthy and costly for Him?  What if I am being asked to sacrifice my sacrificial energy itself?

I recently had the opportunity to pray through the Stations of the Cross, a sequential method some Christians use to contemplate Jesus’ journey to his death through fourteen stages or “stations.”  Each station is accompanied by an image and a brief prayer pertaining to that stage.  Considering my questions regarding the cross, Station II was of especial interest to me: “Jesus bears his cross: Lord, we join you in your journey of suffering.”  I realized with shock that it did not say “Jesus bears his cross: Now go and bear yours,” but rather that we are to join Jesus in the suffering He’s already enduring.  All God asks is that we join Him, not that I find a niche market of suffering for me to endure in my own personal way.  I’m afraid my culture’s deep reverence for individualism and my own desire for uniqueness have seeped into even this corner of my faith.  

I am beginning to suspect that thinking in terms of my cross rather than Jesus’ cross is, at best, simply a form of pious navel-gazing, and at worst, downright idolatry.  While Good Friday is half of the equation, it is only half.  The cross has always been a means to an end; it has never been and never will be the final word.    

As I consider joining Jesus as he continues to bear his cross in the world, I am reminded of a frequent occurrence at my school. The children sleep on portable cots during nap time, and when they wake up, they are in charge of putting their bedding away.  The cots are relatively light, but large compared to the average three-year-old, so not all of the children can carry them by themselves.  At the beginning of the year, I would put away most of the cots while the children managed their bedding.  Over time, however, as they have gained coordination, strength and confidence, they have been able to participate more.  They love helping me carry their beds, and even though it is less efficient and more cumbersome for me to do it this way than for me to take care of it myself, I love it too.  They are perfectly aware that I am strong enough and big enough to take their cots myself, but they want to participate because they want to help and they want to be with me.  And that’s how it is with God too.  He does not need me to help Him.  I know I join Him in suffering only because of his grace in allowing me to do so.  I join Him because I want to be with Him and I know being with Him means suffering sometimes.  If the driving force isn’t relational, then my motivations reek of martyrdom. 

So what do we do?  How do we approach this call to carry crosses?  Again, I find myself seeking wisdom from my students.  While I still do help many of them carry their beds, increasingly, they are forming teams to transport the beds themselves:

chanting our teamwork song: “What’s gonna work? Teamwork!”

and then doing the “Teamwork Cheer." 

It might be difficult for me to determine what my cross is, but it is not hard to see crosses all around me: people fighting disease, relational strife, poverty, depression, loneliness and anxiety.  Perhaps if I spend less time trying to identify my one, unified, Cross-with-a-capital-C to bear, and more time responding to the varied opportunities for teamwork-style suffering that come my way, I would be closer in spirit to what Jesus and Dr. King were talking about.  After all, even Jesus’ ministry appears rather haphazard on the surface.

I realize that these questions may not be relevant for everyone.  Perhaps much of my desire to find a cross to bear comes from my own particular nature, nurture or the old familiar indeterminate combination of the two.  But for me right now, at least, I think my challenge is to look widely for chances to help others bear their crosses and to loosen my grip on any specific one.  

Unless, of course, I ever become a nun in Transylvania, in which case you’d better believe I’ll be holding onto my cross pretty tightly.

Have a good week,

Sarah/Mouse