Shiny Red Ball

In a devotional book I can no longer remember the title of, Max Lucado wrote an anecdote about his toddler at a ball pit park. It was this cool wading pool filled with those hollow plastic base-ball-sized balls that come in a rainbow of colours, characteristically found in child-friendly places like Chucky Cheese. The pool was for "children under 12 only" and its crowning jewel was a launcher in the center where children could set one of the plastic balls and have a great puff of air send it flying. Max' youngest daughter stood up to her neck in the pit of balls and therefore had difficulty moving through it, although it was clear she intended to get to the ball launcher in the center of the pit. Making her movements more difficult, however, was her insistence on trying to hold several of the red plastic balls she found at the edge of the pit. Without her arms for balance, the dear little half-pint sunk below the surface of the balls, couldn't get up again, and was wailing inconsolably. Max tried to instruct her from the side to release the balls and just use the ones closer to the launcher but she was not to be dissuaded. She was convinced the shiny red balls in her hands must be far superior to any elsewhere in the pit. So he sent her older sister to try to get her to release the balls so she could get back onto her feet and to the center of the pit. This resulted in a submerged cat-fight which had other parents beginning to stare. Finally, Max looked at the lifeguard on duty and was given permission to enter the ball pit to retrieve his now very unhappy toddler. Pulling her out where she could see and breathe again, Max eased the troublesome balls out of his daughter's hands and carried her to the center, where her older sister was able to demonstrate how to use the launcher with equally shiny red balls found right beside the launcher. Problem solved. I've been thinking about that story a lot lately. And about the shiny red ball in my hand God's asking me to release. Oh, ok. And the shiny pink one, too. The red ball is a summer 2008 3 week trip to Israel and a one-week stop in Ethiopia with one of my favourite Professors and a few of my closest friends from school. I want to go. I want to acquaint myself with the world in the company of someone who sees it clearly and already knows it better than I do. I want to see how much everything and everyone in Bethlehem and Jerusalem has changed in just one year, I want to taste the alien strangeness again and be shocked once more to realize how interconnected and similar we are. I want one last wild adventure before I'm locked into another 4 or 5 years of studies to complete my Masters and PhD in Counselling Psychology. I thought I could do it. I discovered, miraculously, enough funds left over from last year to pay all of the next year's tuition so if I could just make enough money this summer and during the school year I could afford to go again. Things seemed to be going my way: group homes run by the foster care group my parents belong to were desperately looking for relief workers and were offering $14.50 per hour. After pushing myself hard for a month to get my driver's license, I had all the requirements. I even had references from several friends who already work there and an impressive reference from the DC where I volunteer. Not only would it have been the most money I've ever made, but the job is related to counselling psychology (a definite plus for acceptance into grad school) and the shifts are flexible enough that I could have full time work in the summer and part-time work in the fall and winter when I go back to school. But they never called for an interview. I even re-applied. Still nothing. I didn't get it. Fortunately, God is good about dropping me hints. I have been working 3-4 days per week at my boss' house doing landscaping, renovations, and the usual house-keeping duties while waiting to hear from a real job. I'm starting to loose my mind from boredom and quiet but at least I get to be outside and using my muscles for a change. As an added bonus, my friend Jen lives in walking distance of my boss and encouraged me to just come sleep over at her house in between shifts so I wouldn't have to cross the city on public transit so much. Spending time with Jen and her kids has been the high-light of my summer. They just let me be a part of the family for a while. I earn my keep by tidying Jen's kitchen or bribing her children to do their chores by rewarding them with tickles and spinning them around up-side down. In return, I get free meals; a rich new understanding of the demands of raising children (particularly if you're a single parent); hours of intimate conversation ranging in topics from spiritual oppression in our childhood and teen years to hopes and plans for the future to how the big bang/evolutionist principles and creationism are really compatible, not competing theories; and Jen is teaching me how to play DDR. Jen also gave me the best recipe for chocolate chip cookies EVER. Score! The more time we spend together, the more similar we discover ourselves to be. So it should probably come as no surprise that Jen's shiny red ball incident was what helped me clue in to my own. Jen's shiny red ball was a job teaching aerospace science to grade 6 kids over the summer while her kids were away at their dad's. Jen's working on her teaching degree and so any experience related to the field that will help pay her tuition and living expenses is golden. This job was to be even more golden because it required Jen to work with the age group she prefers in the subject she prefers doing programming work her degree prefers. But then the unexpected occurred: Jen's kids were staying with her for the summer. This meant half of her pay would go towards child care instead of towards tuition, and she must somehow deal with the strain of caring for 2 highly unhappy children at the end of an entire day spent with other people's children. Jen's heart was with caring for and enjoying her children but her head knew she needed the money and the good reference from the job she had already accepted. She wanted advice on what to do and I couldn't give her any. But I suddenly realized that if she chose the job I could offer her the only thing I had at the moment: time. I could stay at her house and be available to look after her kids as needed. In the end, God told Jen to let go of the job and trust him to get her the funds she needs. She resigned and the next day her church offered her a large scholarship to use as needed. My help was no longer needed. But the idea that I might need some extra time for something crucial this summer remained. The crucial thing was identified as I began researching possibilities for grad schools and their entrance requirements. I need an undergraduate thesis. Thus, I found myself applying and being accepted for one of the exclusive independent research studies spots I had so feared and avoided. Essentially, this is a one year project in which I conduct my own research under a supervising professor (a master-apprentice relationship, of sorts) and then write a very long paper about it and present my findings to the entire psychology department at the end of the year. I have the summer to learn everything there is to know about the topic of my study, then summarize it into a review of the literature and a detailed research proposal that will be submitted to an ethics committee for approval prior to commencement in September. I also booked my GRE (graduate requirement exam?), which is like an SAT only harder. I'm supposed to be memorizing classical Greek and Latin keywords; lists of words only a GRE examiner has ever heard of and their general meanings; mathematics and science I haven't touched since high school; and generally practicing how to make it through a timed computer exam that becomes harder the more questions I answer correctly. More time to prepare is better than less. Getting a mindless, very part time job is probably a good thing. I will probably cut back to just 1 or 2 days of work per week for the summer, in fact. God seemed to reinforce his 'no' to the whole working-for-Israel-money-thing further by sending me large scholarships to help with tuition this year. Now I' suppose I will save up for graduate studies and living expenses in another city. So good-bye shiny red ball. I'm going to graduate studies instead. And the shiny pink ball? I'm not telling you about that.