short hair

Slightly smirky, but it's me.  Actually, the smirk probably makes it more me.

I got my hair cut over spring break.  A lot.  (I have an appointment for a trim on Thursday, so the photo above is actually rather poodle-y compared to how it started, but still, one can get the general picture.)

There were a number of reasons why I cut my hair (or, to be more precise, had someone who knows what she's doing cut it for me).  There is a great deal of it.  I am not skilled in the hairstyling department.  I wanted to take advantage of my natural curl.  The trauma of a very unfortunate styling incident in 8th grade had finally receded enough to make a drastic change feasible.  Added to all of this, however, was a reason a close friend immediately sussed: it is symbolic of change.

I've spent the past 30+ years striving.  From the day my preschool teacher pronounced me "4 going on 40" through my many years of schooling and on into the world of work, I have had a vision of what I "should" be doing.  I was smart and I was driven, thus I should be going to school until I'd accumulated all the diplomas on offer--and then I should be successful in the field for which those diplomas prepared me (namely, the academy).  

And yet.  Clearly my inner self has always struggled on some level with this trajectory, because I made a decision that probably torpedoed the whole process--at least, the process the way I had envisioned it.  I moved back to Oregon, and my husband and I produced the precocious first grader I need to go pick up from school in 20 minutes.  I wasn't willing to go "the entire distance."  I wasn't willing to postpone her.  There were other things competing for space in this vision of what life was meant to be.

Since then, I've worked hard.  I've adjunct-taught and written, published and presented at conferences, applied and even interviewed for positions in various parts of the country.  Throughout, I've sought God's guidance.  Throughout, even as books have been published and other triumphs recorded, the ultimate answer has been... no.  

No, you're not meant to be a full-time, tenure-track professor.  At least not now.  And there's a far better than even chance that "not now" means "never."

This spring has been a season of discernment.  While no process of discernment is ever truly finished, I feel I've been shown in a number of ways that the path I thought I "should" be following is not the path for me:

• God works through God's Word.  I was reading through Proverbs during Lent and Proverbs 16:25 leapt out from the page with remarkable force: "Sometimes there is a way that seems to be right, but in the end it is the way to death."  Ooo-kay.  Good to know.  
• God works through other people.  In the space of a week, two people (plus my own inner voice, separately and before either of the others) suggested to me that I might be well-suited to follow a path that involved more connection to the church.  
• God works through pro and con lists, and by extension through husbands.  I finally followed the other half's advice.  "Keep Fighting the Academic Fight" did not come out very well relative to "Give up and Freelance."  
• God works through simple availability, or the lack thereof.  The university where I've taught most has no openings next year--or in the foreseeable future.
• God works through editors.  I've had the opportunity to write a couple pieces that will be published in our denominational magazine, showing me that there is a future for me in pursuing other paths.

I finished grading my last spring term papers about an hour ago.  I have one more conference paper to deliver next week.  And then?  For the present, I'm done.  I tried, and I failed--perhaps because I was meant to.  That's a difficult thing to come to terms with, but it's also a relief.  I move forward into the future with hope; plans to be a far more active presence on this blog, since writing seems to be an important part of that future; and easy-upkeep hair. :-)

Thanks be to God--for answers.  Even when they're hard to hear.