Monthly Archives: October 2013

Redefining Success

It’s that time of year again–the time when seniors are applying to college, college graduates are applying to grad school, and grad students are applying for funding, jobs, and post-docs.  Anxiety and excitement are heightened during the fall as students everywhere are bent over applications and essays in coffee shops, burning the midnight oil.

This is what writing a dissertation looks like...fieldnotes and all!  My photo.
This is what writing a dissertation looks like…fieldnotes and all! My photo.

A few years ago, when I was applying to my own Ph.D. program, I learned some very important lessons about what it means to be seek success in academia, and I’ve tried to carry them with me ever since (I think these lessons are applicable to lots of other settings outside academia, too!).  However, especially during this season when we’re crafting resumes and cvs, cranking out cover letters and college essays, it’s really easy to fall into the trap of letting others or the perceptions we have of others define success for us.

I can tell you that what worked well for me last time, when I was sending out these applications into the unsteady universe of academic competition, was to envision success not as the result that came following the submission, but the process leading up to it.  

But even before I did that, I set up a plan that worked for me.

When I was applying to grad school, I was also graduating from seminary and planning a wedding, and it seemed like an almost insurmountable collision of due dates and life changes.  Still, my husband-to-be at the time had an ingenious idea: what if we devoted one day a week to wedding planning, resolving to leave all emails and phone calls and appointments to that day in order that it not take over our life?  I did a similar thing with my grad school applications: I set myself internal due dates, parsed the endless list of requirements for each school into tasks and began carving out specific time from my life to set toward the task.  This way I could be sure that getting into grad school, a goal of mine, was not a task rushed through with leftover time, but a task for which time had been budgeted and safeguarded.

Trees on a foggy day.  My photo.
Trees on a foggy day. My photo.

Next, I reached out to people in the university and the seminary for help.  When you’re applying to college or grad school, try to anchor yourself in an academic community, where you have access to computers, printers, copiers, libraries, etc.  Take your application essay to the writing center and early, so you can go multiple times and through multiple drafts.  Essentially, set yourself up to put the very best effort you can toward this important task and trust that that is half the battle!

Do you how many brilliant people mean to apply, but never get their act together to do so?  You’re ahead of all of them!

Finally, and this really is the key, imagine your success to be grounded in writing the best application essay possible, achieving the best test score possible, or  writing the cover letter that is most representative of who you are.  When I finished my application essay for grad school, it was a piece of writing that I was sincerely proud of–I felt it represented me well and fully as a scholar and person, and therefore, I knew that I had been successful in applying to grad school, no matter the results.  I did my best, I accepted it as my best, and I was fully satisfied with the efforts and the results–this is the feeling, the goal, you are striving for–not admission to one school or the other, which you can’t control, and really has nothing to do with the quality of the work you’ve produced–and it should stand apart and for itself!

Now, you might think this is all easy for me to say, because I did get accepted to graduate school, and I’ve had a very positive experience throughout my Ph.D. studies.  But I will tell you that when I applied to college, I applied to at least 12 schools, got admitted to 8, and rejected from 4. When I applied for my masters, I applied to 2 schools, and was accepted to both.  And when I applied to grad school, I applied to 4 schools, and got admitted to 1.  Clearly the most “successful” results were not my grad school applications, but I remember focusing so much on those 4 rejection letters the first time around!  I could hardly see the 8 acceptances for anything, because I was so focused on 4 rejection letters.  However, when I applied to Ph.D. programs, I got 3 rejection letters, which honestly, barely scathed me.  When I got the final call from Princeton, I was elated, but I really already felt successful–I had done everything I could do, and it was just a matter of whether I fit somewhere.

The last flowers of fall.  My photo.
The last flowers of fall. My photo.

I admit these things, because another myth that we all subscribe to is that highly successful people don’t have any setbacks or failures.  Doesn’t it make you think a bit differently about the folks in grad school when you consider that they were probably all rejected from more schools than they were accepted to?  Doesn’t it make you realize that the rejections are rather meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but the way you feel about yourself is key to your crafting a great application, doing a solid interview, or writing a confident cover letter?

Now at the time I had some other options besides grad school, and that helped.  And if your goal is graduate school at all costs, you’re better off applying to a range of schools where you could be happy.

But that doesn’t change the fact that when it comes down to it, all it takes is one.

I rarely think about those 3 rejection letters these days–I feel so certain that I’m where I’m meant to be, in fact, that I wouldn’t have been satisfied anywhere else, and I’m not sure that’s true, but it’s certainly a matter of perspective.  And that perspective remains a definition of success that is tailored to my achievement, my goals, and my efforts.  Who cares what anyone else does or thinks or achieves as long as you can grow to be satisfied and proud, no matter what, with who you are?

This isn’t just about feeling good, of course, it’s about working hard and long for the things that you care about and trusting your efforts in the process.  What if we believed that graduate school or college, like other pursuits, was as much about the destination, as the journey?  Maybe you’ll get rejected and you’ll have to go back and try again, but wouldn’t you much rather have given it your best?  And when you do get accepted, I hope you’ll add to this culture of redefining success, you’ll pass on not just your success stories, but your rejection stories to those around you, so we can see that we’re all in this together, that none of us is immune to failure and setbacks and heartache, but none of us is incapable of success either.

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Sighs too deep for words

Saint Sulpice Cathedral.  Paris, France. Photo by Evan Schneider.
Saint Sulpice Cathedral. Paris, France. Photo by Evan Schneider.

Sometimes I think when you get a seminary education, you become a really big jerk when it comes to church-going.

You sit in the pews, and you have a really hard time not scrutinizing every word of the prayers, the hymns, and the sermon for theological integrity.  You tend to use your education, if only in your mind, in a way God couldn’t have possibly intended–your inner jackal voice (that’s what we called it in a nonviolent communication class I took) judges the church swiftly and bluntly for its imperfections and inconsistencies, finding it and its people wholly unworthy.  You start using theology to judge the world and its people rather than grace and love.

Are seminarians the only ones who do this?  

I’m thinking we’ve all probably done it–treated church like a country club, getting out our yardsticks to measure the benefits, the clientele, the grounds by big worldly standards and finding them sorely lacking.  At times we’ve probably had good reasons to reject a church or two, but do we do so with righteous indignation, self-assured conviction, or do we do it with humble grace, knowing that if God pulled out a yardstick, we’d all fall on the short side?

Prayer candles in a cathedral.  Photo by Evan Schneider.
Prayer candles in a cathedral. Photo by Evan Schneider.

I’m not always the most grace-filled person.  

On the Myers-Briggs scale, I’m an ENTJ, and that J for judging is pretty strong, but being at church, surrounded by not just people, but people God loves and who love one another forces me to reflect on my own need for grace.

Right now, my husband and I are blessed to attend such a church–a church that’s far from perfect, but somehow I hardly notice the imperfections, because people are so busy loving me and one another that I forget to look for them.  Sure, it helps that the worship is creative, and the sermons are thought-provoking, but that’s not really the essence of being church.

A few weeks ago I preached a sermon at another church on one of my favorite topics, centering or silent prayer, and the sermon, based on Romans 8, was entitled “Sighs too Deep for Words.”  And this week an unthinkable tragedy that took one of our church members from us, there were no words.  On Tuesday night, we gathered in the sanctuary to be together in our grief.

There were no sermons, no special music, and brokenness was everywhere.  And that’s where I felt God’s presence, in the tears, the sorrow, and the shared pain of a community–in a church that knew no better than to love one another and to seek God together in their grief, their sighs, and their laments.

Sacre Coeur at night.  Paris, France.  Photo by Evan Schneider.
Sacre Coeur at night. Paris, France. Photo by Evan Schneider.

I ask for your prayers this morning as you read about our church community that is grieving this loss.  But more than that, I hope and I pray that we all stop worrying so much about the right words, the appropriate hymns, or a perfect theology, and let God be God, especially at church.  And I pray that we let love be our response, to theology, whether bad or good, grace our response to brokenness, and silence, our faithful prayer when the words simply won’t come.  May the God of grace guide you this day and tomorrow and the next.

Amen.

Embracing timing

My last post was a little cryptic, and there’s been a long silence on the blog (apologies), but I wanted to share the news that my husband and I are expecting a baby in mid-February.

We’re pretty excited and a little terrified.

The first glimpses of fall in Princeton.  My photo.
The first glimpses of fall in Princeton. My photo.

It’s funny how these things work.  When you’re a planner like me, you imagine things will go as planned, but the timing of this one was a surprise.  And at first we thought it was the worst time ever–February is a very busy month for my husband at work, and the due date fell right in the middle of a course I was scheduled to teach.

But as we’ve faithfully rearranged our lives, God has been working to open our eyes to the goodness and wisdom of this timing.  I’ve been able to go about  rescheduling the course, my husband’s been able to schedule a month off in February, and that will leave me with approximately six and half months until the fall when I might be teaching or preaching again.  Suddenly, it seems like pretty excellent timing, and I couldn’t be more grateful to God for God’s provision.

More fall leaves.  My photo.
More fall leaves. My photo.

To be honest, I haven’t felt all that great.

I definitely don’t identify with any of those women who said they felt their best during pregnancy or that it’s a magical time, but when I’m forced to slow down a bit, I try not to fight it, but rather accept that space and silence to breathe and be and see what else there might be to this life that I’m often tempted to rush through.  I have to trust myself and trust God that it all gets done, not how I’ve planned, or how I’ve envisioned, but that there’s definitely a plan and it’s a pretty masterful one at that.