In the last post I promised to update on my more specific revelations on the other aspects aspects of my next phase in life (career, family, where I'd be going (or staying?) that I had been praying, etc.) I had developed some clearer convictions on the subject gradually throughout the fall and my trip home reaffirmed them. They continue to develop, but these are the convictions I have at least at this point in my 70 weeks.
When I moved to the East Coast, I packed up the majority of my possessions in Joni, my little red Volkswagen (named after Joni Mitchell) and drove out East alone, taking highway 90 all the way. One of the most romantic things I've ever done. The first day I made it from Chicago to Cleveland, saw the Sunset over the city and lake eerie and staying overnight in Willoughby, OH. The second day I crossed through PA, all the way through upstate NY near Niagra Falls, and slept in the Adirondacks near Schenectady. The final day was the shorter drive between NY and my new apartment in central Mass. But near Albany, 90 shuffles around and you can end up taking 87 for a ways toward New York City and then jump onto the NY thruway/Berkshires connector to get back onto 90 right when it becomes "The Pike" in Mass. If you do that, you end up on this two lane highway going over an old iron bridge that crosses over the Hudson, back when it's a smaller river, unpolluted by New York City. I remember crossing over it and seeing all this green surrounding it, even little islands of green in between it and thinking it so majestic- I then drove off the bridge into the blackstone rock walled highway between the hills that would soon lead to Massachusetts. And I remember looking over the Hudson, shocked that I was there, actually seeing the Hudson river for the first time, and just feeling so empowered, so in awe, so free, so much that this was what I was supposed to be doing. I looked over that river and knew that this was the road to my destiny, at least for now.
Less than a month later it was late summertime in Massachusetts and I was listening to the album, Good Dog Bad Dog by Over the Rhine for the first time. It was the soundtrack to my discovering my new home. I immediately fell in love with the song Poughkeepsie, obviously referring to Poughkeepsie, NY- a town on the Hudson river, a little ways south of where I crossed on my journey to Massachusetts (the song preceeding it is called Willoughby- which is so serendipitous as I stayed overnight in WIlloughby Ohio my first night- this album was so meant for my road trip). I love the lyrics to the soung- even if they are dark at first:
I thought I'd go up Poughkeepsie,
look out o'er the Hudson,
and I'd throw my body down on the river.
And I'd know no more sorrow,
I'd fly like the sparrow
and I'd ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I'd ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I'd take to the sky with all my might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'd just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
(the song continues with more verses and eventually culminates in this realization:)
Then the skies, they fell open
and my eyes were opened
to a world of hope falling at my feet.
Now I've no more or less
than anyone else has,
what I have is a gift of life I can't repeat.
So I go up Poughkeepsie,
look out o'er the Hudson
and I cast my worries to the sky.
Now I still know sorrow,
but I can fly like the sparrow
'cause I ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I ride on the backs of the angels tonight.
I take to the sky with all their might.
No more drowning in my sorrow,
no more drowning in my fright,
I'll just ride on the backs of the angels each night.
Ok, so the song is about suicide, not moving to another state. But it's really about trusting God to take care of you, trusting Him with your life, your salvation, your destiny, your future rather than taking your future into your own hands. It's about trusting in the strength of His divine power rather than your own.
When I felt convicted to move out East, teach at a private school with a ton of resources, and work, in a way, with children who don't especially need me (they already have teachers who are running great instructional programs, they'd be fine if I weren't here), it was because the purpose was to learn. To do good for my current students, yes, but to learn how to do good for other students with fewer resources, and eventually leave this cushier place, to go back to the public school, and make a difference for students who don't have the programs and resources my students out here have. For a while I toyed with staying out here, this job was seemingly my dream job after all. It was easy- everything I wanted, no one fighting with me when I wanted to use Applied Behavior Analysis, the exact population I wanted to work with, working with people my age in close proximity so I was easily able to form friendships and relationships. Sure, it was a bit frightening moving to a strange place when I left the Midwest, but in a way, this place was set up to be very very comfortable. I love it here. I love my students, my friends, the scenery, my job. But I'm not supposed to stay here. It's a conviction I've had for a long time that I was less sure of at times but my 70 weeks is making it clearer and clearer that after my program is over next summer, it's time to go.
I was also unsure of where to go, I could go West, but I feel the conviction to go back to the Midwest, near home. I have community there, my mom is there, some job opportunities there, and there are so few developed ABA programs that, most importantly, I feel like I'm needed there- that there is something I'm supposed to do there. But going back home after being away is hard. Moving out East to work at some school on the cutting edge of autism sounds glamorous. Trading that to go back near home and teach at a regular public school does not. Everyone who moves back home after being away says they dislike it and want to get out (although I would never actually move back in with my mother), I may end up at a school working with older married people, not being around people my age, and living alone with not a lot of a friends for a little while. I will probably be at a place where practices that I use, that I'm used to being supported here, will not be accepted. I will be faced with student behavior that I could control, but will not be allowed to due to resources and bureaucracy. Many behavior analysts go into the public schools, not knowing what they're facing. I do, and I'm going it into it willingly because I feel called to and I would not feel fulfilled or right staying here longer when God wants me somewhere else. But this future I speak of is daunting and frightening and I don't know that I have what it takes. But I suppose that if God calls us to something, he equips us with the tools. So, I suppose in a year and a half or so, I will pack all my possessions in my less romantic little red Nissan, and drive west, likely back homeward.
I'm a little sad, and a little scared, but I know it will all be for good in the end.
I know I'll cross over that river again, and I don't take to the sky, or the road with all my might- because I would be too scared to dive in. No more drowning in my sorrow, no more drowning in my fright I'll take to the road with all of His might.
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