A Necessary Ending

It’s winter in West Michigan, and despite the mildness of this particular cycle the grey days and shortened daylight hours can be difficult. To provide respite in the midst of our deep mid-winter, my wife and I are heading to Louisville, Kentucky in a couple of weeks. While there’s no guarantee of favorable weather, a change of venue should be refreshing. Our hope is that a few days away will enliven our slogging toward the end of winter and the beginning of spring.

Beginnings and endings. Our lives are threaded with starts, stops, and redirections.

Nearly two years ago I started something. Through prayer, conversation, forms, and fees I stepped onto the path leading toward a doctorate degree. I yearn to learn and for many years contemplated the pursuit of education at the highest level. Recently, a job change coupled with the growing independence of my children suggested the addition of formal education to our routine was feasible. With the eagerness of a kindergartner equipped with fresh crayons and a PB&J sandwich, I plowed into my studies.

For me, the endeavor of learning is a paradox of euphoria and drudgery. Anxiety and excitement. Pressure and pleasure. The people, professors, and discussions are stimulating and edifying. The work is intense, yet gratifying. It didn’t take long to realize doctorate level studies are rigorous and demanding—but I loved it!

What I didn’t love so much was the voracity with which my studies consumed my time. Research, reading, and writing gobbled-up every spare moment, both literally and mentally. My thoughts were captive to papers, discussion questions, presentations, and time management. Adrenaline, caffeine, and self-discipline propelled me forward—an intellectual explorer ready to stake my claim within academia.

But like most adventures, the unexpected happens. Detours, distractions, loss, and delay can redirect or even thwart plans and efforts. My educational journey was not immune to such things. The ever-present responsibility for family, work, and church duties did not abate while I dwelt in the ivory tower. The good and necessary work of marriage, parenting, and career pressed into the margin reserved for study. In response, I adjusted my schedule by stiff-arming involvements and shortening times of rest and recreation. I can do this, I thought. I’m not a quitter. Just suck it up.

Yet my internal pep-talks could not reconcile necessary things with my availability for desired things. My primary calling was impinging upon my margin for study. Even more, I couldn’t span the rift between my occupation, vocation, and research interests. My angst swelled with each course and assignment. Nevertheless, I chose to mix optimism with naivete and trudged forward, all the while wondering if I should end my educational venture.

The answer was yes.

Two weeks into my second year it became undoubtedly clear that I should pause my studies. The wise choice was to drop the class, gather myself, and evaluate. I relented to that reality but it was excruciating to accept. Never had I dropped a class. Never had I quit anything. It felt shameful, irresponsible, and short-sighted. Did I lack determination, perseverance, or resilience? Was I not capable, smart, or skilled? What would others think?

All of those questions, fears, and suppositions haunted me as I dawdled to officially withdraw from the program months later. I didn’t want to be hasty but knew from the moment I dropped that course I was saying goodbye. A necessary ending.

But endings are also beginnings as the page flips to a new chapter that’s unwritten, untried, and open to possibilities. And that’s just what God presented to me. Something new. Something intriguing. Something that rings true in my soul popped into my purview the day after withdrawing from my doctoral program. Coincidence? I say providence!

While I can’t see what’s ahead, I have hope that endings can be good. Beginnings, too. God is not surprised by any of my starts, stops, or redirections. He planned them, actually. So in my confusion, frustration, and uncertainty I can settle into His claim on me, which provides assurance that all my moments have been crafted for my good and His glory.

Now, let’s get started!

But as for me, I am poor and needy;
may the Lord think of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
you are my God, do not delay.

(Psalm 40:17, NIV)