Have Faith

So much happened in October that I hope to spend November bringing you all up to speed. Here’s one story from last month:

I had the privilege of hearing my friend Anna Courie speak. She has published a book, Christ Walk, which is a spiritual approach to physical fitness. You can read more about it here.

Anna and I met in college. We had some common friends and have often been at the same weddings and football tailgates. Anna was one of the visitors we had in our June family experience the result of which was realizing how much we are loved.

Nana's Hibiscus - photo by KDW

Anna’s speaking engagement was part of my local writer’s group’s Christian Writers’ Showcase, an event I originally declined to assist with because Christian writing is not my genre. I did end up speaking on self-editing, giving a basic English professor’s take on preparing your work for publication. Also, I recruited Anna.

In all the years Anna and I have known one another, I have never heard the story of how she became a Christian, nor heard her experience of being rendered deaf by an illness when she was very young. She shared both during her talk on Saturday and I found myself moved by her story.

I also felt a slight envy toward Anna’s conviction in her faith. She felt wrapped in it, strengthened by it, meant to be part of it and meant to have it as part of her. I thought about the intellectuality with which I approach my faith and felt a small regret that I didn’t have a passionate, acute-transformation story like hers.

Then I wrote this down on the paper I had in my lap:

God is the source of life.

God is the source of love.

God is the ground of being.

And I remembered my faith story. I remembered the moment in which I first came to my faith.

3 Things Business Can Teach the Government

I know we’re all sick of the government shut down. Mostly I’m sick of how painful they’ve tried to make it for us, regular people. Who does that to their customers?

Which makes me wonder about a few of the operating policies of the government. Businesses don't take revenue for granted, don't treat their customers poorly, and don't let their employees refuse service; at least, not if they want to stay in business.

What I’ve Learned in Kindergarten

Charlie and I stayed up too late last night watching DVR’d shows and enjoying each other’s company and a second bottle of wine. 

This morning I didn’t even try to get up at my usual 5 a.m. I set my alarm for 6. Then I turned it off and climbed back in bed. But when I glanced at the clock at 6:50 I heard this phrase in my head:

“It’s not for you. It’s for Hollie. Get her off to a good start this morning.”

A month ago, on the first day of kindergarten, I walked past the lady with box of Kleenex and held Hollie’s hand all the way to her classroom. When it was time to leave I knelt beside her said, “Kindergarten isn’t for grown-ups,” and kissed her goodbye.

What's Up, Doc?

I watched my Facebook feed like election results last Thursday night. The Likes and Comments kept rolling in. My status read:

Life on Clemson Road is about life in transition and this is one of the biggest for me. It’s the achievement of a life-long goal. It’s the completion of a seven year process. It’s the terminal degree for anyone who studies business. There isn’t anything higher. 

During my defense call which happened last Thursday night, one of my committee members said, “What will you do now?”

That’s easy: build my business. Be the very best at everything I do. Continue to work hard. 
 
Show my daughter what it looks like to Lean In.

My father-in-law might call it “Fudd” but it’s the furthest thing from a pudgy 1940’s cartoon character. I made a promise to Charlie and I fulfilled it. I promised myself and I met it. I am truly accomplished.

And a little surprised by the sound of it said aloud. Like when I got married and changed my name.

Kasie Whitener, PhD.

Forever now I’ll have that Fudd. That demarcation that says, “She’s not afraid of hard work.”

In Six Tires, No Plan, his biography and the story of Discount Tire Company, Bruce Halle, author of The Dream as we are living it, says,

“Once you get your education and get your degree, that’s yours. No one can take that from you. Some things in life in the future might go bad and you could lose a lot, or most, or all of your worldy possessions, but no one is ever going to take that college degree from you, that education. It’s there. It’s yours forever,” (p.52).

Charlie read me that passage on Friday night, after we’d spent the day sort of thinking about what does the PhD completion really mean for us? For our family?

Really, it means we’re not afraid of hard work. We’re not afraid of working together to achieve anything we set out to achieve. It’s a significant milestone not just for me, but for Charlie who has been supporting this effort for the better part of our 12 year marriage.

It’s more than a piece of paper or letters behind my name. It’s the outward and visible sign of a certain character, knowledge, and ability. And even though it’s only on my business card, like our wedding bands, it’s a commitment to one another, a tie that binds us.

When I wrote about milestones I meant this was one. I graduated high school 18 years ago and have spent 13 of those 18 years in higher education. Four in undergrad at Clemson University. Two and a half at Winthrop University for a master’s degree. Seven at Capella University for this PhD. 

And now I get to work for roughly 30 more years at this, the terminal degree rate. I haven’t won the lottery. In fact, I’ll be picking up student loan payments in about 6 months. I don’t get to stop working. 

I have to work even harder. I have higher expectations than ever.

These days, though, I’m not going to feel crushed under the weight of them. I’m going to remind myself what fulfillment feels like. I’m going to ask myself what Daniel Pink calls interrogative preparation, “Is this the right thing for me to be doing?” I’m going to decide to live up to my own expectations and surpass others’ expectations of me.

Okay. Enough about all that. Time to get back to work.

Thanks to those of you who supported me all this time. You know who you are but you could leave a comment, if you’d like the internet to know it, too!

Measuring Progress

The process of becoming a PhD is measured in milestones. These are certain achievements that document the progress I’ve made since choosing my committee members (Fall 2008) through total dissertation completion (Summer 2013). 

I have been in milestone 10 – committee approval – for about six months. I confessed my response to a particular committee member’s remarks by describing myself as a petulant child.

Last weekend, another member suggested changes that would require significant sentence-level editing. On Tuesday I just glued myself to the laptop and did it. Five hours of editing later, I’m ready to try for milestone 11.

Milestones help us in two significant ways.

First, they articulate where we’ve been by naming that place, tagging the memory. We use milestones like anniversaries and birthdays in this way. Events help us put regular days in context. For a while we referred to things as happening “before 9/11” or “after 9/11.”

During football season we use the game weekends to define the calendar. “That’s Florida State weekend,” or “That’s after homecoming.”

Milestones give us names to help distinguish one day or date from another. For example, Charlie and I have been married 12 years. When I think of year six, I’m not sure, exactly, when that was.

Don't Say You Didn't Try

I swam in high school. When I decided to go to Clemson University I asked my swim coach if he thought I was good enough to swim there. He said no.

In 1995 I was swimming eight times a week but for all that work, I'd only dropped three seconds off my 100 butterfly. I'd seen myself get stronger and faster but I'd need to drop four more seconds to make the team at Clemson, my coach said. Four seconds seemed impossible.

So I finished the high school season and the summer season and when I went to Clemson in August I joined the crew team.

Say it was a chance to do something new.

A couple of people to whom I've told that story said they would have responded differently. 

My friend Rob, a 1997 Naval Academy graduate, said, "See, that's when I would have worked my ass off to prove him wrong."

Just the other day a woman I'd only just met, a nurse and mom of three, a part-time tri-athlete who said things like, "I just want to do something," when describing her workouts, agreed with Rob. She said she'd work extra hard to prove my old swim coach wrong. Then she said her daughter was the same way and it was very frustrating for her.

And I thought, "How does Hollie react when she's told she can't do something?"

Gaining Perspective

This morning I worried about paying myself, paying my bills, earning more clients, finishing my dissertation, getting some classes to teach, establishing credibility, and whether I should bother trying to publish my fiction at all.

This morning someone I know is sitting in the waiting room while her sister has surgery for cancer. Right now. She’s there, waiting, right now.

When I reminded myself of what she’s going through, I felt a new but familiar kind of space.

Perspective.

When I reminded myself that nothing is permanent and every moment is a gift,

When I reminded myself that there are people on this planet living separate but equally important lives,

When I reminded myself to get over myself, I felt space.