Six Impossible Things

Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

-Lewis Carroll

During the eventful last year, I often paraphrased Lewis Carroll and said, “I have to do six impossible things before breakfast.” My misrembering of this quote – thinking that it was “doing” six impossible things and not “believing” - tells you two things about me: 1) I am not a Victorianist and 2) I have a tendency to make things more difficult than they need to be. But as I reflected on my error, I started to consider the connection between doing and believing. After all if I didn’t, on some level, believe that the events of the past year could happen, they would have never come to fruition.

So here is a glimpse of my impossible to-do lists this year. As I reflected on the past year in the weeks before Christmas, I re-listened to a lot of the same Christmas songs that I found comfort in during the dark days of last December. They now hold a double meaning for me, so I decided to punctuate this review with some of my favorite lines.

I. In your heart, you hope it’s true though you hold no expectation. In the deepest part of you there’s an open hesitation.

-Sara Groves, “It’s True”

We found out we were pregnant for the third time in four months just a few days before Christmas. Mostly, we spent the holiday feeling numb and lost and avoiding talking about the baby. Ben gave me a necklace for Christmas. I had sent him a link to about three of Kathy Bransfield’s pieces and said, “I want one of these. You pick which one.” He chose the one that said, “Faith.” I don’t know if this is the one I would have picked, but it was the one I needed. As I leaned over to kiss Ben and thank him for the gift, I had no idea what the year would hold for us or how much faith I would need.

II. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight

-“O Little Town of Bethlehem”

 

It was March or April that I took thirty minutes on a Friday afternoon to respond to a job posting for a Visiting Assistant Professor at a liberal arts college in Wisconsin. I had promised myself I wouldn’t apply for any of these temporary jobs, but it looked like the kind of school I wanted to end up at, and the ad said they were looking to eventually fill the position permanently. And when you are on the academic job market there comes a point when you start breaking all your rules and apply for those jobs you promised yourself (and others) you wouldn’t.

Those thirty minutes changed everything. Fast forward four months to July 29th, and I am dozing off on my friends’ parents’ recliner in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, wondering what the hell I’ve done. Here is my to-do list for that day:

1. Arrive in Oshkosh
2. Sign closing papers on the new home
3. Go to my appointment with our new OB-GYN and celebrate that the baby is now full-term
4. Send Ben back to Cedar Rapids to direct music festival at his church and fetch Sully
5. Stay with Stacy and her parents as I wait for the movers to bring our stuff to Oshkosh
6. Get a haircut

Oddly enough, this is one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in weeks. Still, a knot grows in my stomach as I think about the new home we own and the other one we still own in North Liberty. I am watching an episode of How I Met You Mother that illustrates a leap of faith when the characters literally leap from one building to another. I can’t help but think that this is what I have just done. I try to be proud, but mostly I feel like I’m free falling. I leave for my haircut. On the way home, I check a message from Ben. The Iowa real estate agent called. We have an offer on the house. I add to my list:

7. Counteroffer. Then accept offer on the Iowa house.

Seriously, whose life works like this? Mine, apparently.

III. Precious miracle of life, child of love/ Gift of hope, the gift of light from the father above./ You were made for all mankind, but you will always be mine

-Sara Groves, “Child of Love”

Sweet Julian Michael comes into this world just a few days before the opening faculty meeting. He is beautiful, strong, and alert. His light and love will change us and humble us in ways we could have never anticipated. For example, his mother can’t speak of him without her writing devolving into a string o clichés.

IV. O come thy wisdom from on high/ Who orders all things mightily./ To us the path of knowledge show

-“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”

Everyone tells me it is hard, and it is.

Luckily, I am so in love with this little person, that it doesn’t feel that hard; it just feels like survival. Add to that a new job with no real maternity leave. I do it because I have to. I adore my baby, and as it turns out, I adore my job. But I live in a constant state of panic that I will fail either that child or that job.

It’s only when I look back on those first six weeks of Julian’s life a couple months later that I can say, “Wow. That was really hard, and I was a total mess.” I laugh that Ben and I thought those bottles were so hard to figure out. Why on earth couldn’t we figure out how those bottles? A couple of weeks in, my friend Kim kept repeating to me, “It gets better.” Finally, I understand that she was right.

V. The thrill of hope/ The weary world rejoices/ For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

-“O Holy Night”

One day in late November, I was hurrying to my third class of the day. As I exited West Hall, where my office is housed, a student held the door open for me and nodded, “Hi, Professor.” I kept moving down the sidewalk. There’s a point on these footpaths where you can see most of the major buildings on campus. I saw many of my students and colleagues heading to their next classes. For a moment I stopped and took it all in.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed this scene if you described it to me: I would be walking through a beautiful, mid-nineteenth-century campus where I was an assistant professor, and at home, I would have a gorgeous, healthy three month old waiting for me. But by moving through those overwhelming to-do lists, one day at a time, the impossible had become possible. I started walking again. It was still early in our new lives in Wisconsin, but for a moment, it felt like home.

VI. Don’t forget I love you

-Vienna Teng, “The Atheist Christmas Carol”

As mine turned to a seemingly charmed existence, I have watched so many friends meet new and continuing struggles. And my own full to-do list and distance have kept me from being able to be the friend that I want to be. More often than not, I just feel selfish, guilty, and helpless; I think of them and wish desperately that I could hug them.

It would be trite for me to say, “Have faith.” I know this because I know how trite it sounded to my ears. I know that my story is one of dumb luck as much as it is one of faith fulfilled.

But as you make your impossible to-do list for this new year, know that it is an act of faith-- faith in yourself, in others, and the universe. By acknowledging these tasks on your scribbled list or your iPhone, you are saying that you believe they can be done. And simply believing they can be done is half the work of getting them accomplished. We all have so much strength in us, and as difficult as the challenges in our lives are, there is something special about learning our own capability for achieving the impossible.