Learning to let go…one finger at a time…

There is a scene from the show Monk, in which the title character is asked to be the best man at his friend’s wedding. He approaches the task as he does everything, more than a little obsessively, including the job of taking care of the ring. He will not put it down for fear of losing it, so when the ceremony rolls around and they need the ring, two guys have to pry open his hand, one finger at a time.

I may not have Monk’s issues, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t hold onto things with an iron tight grip. This came very obvious recently with my job.

I have been working as an adjunct professor since the fall of 2004. Other than the spring Madi was born, I taught between one and three classes a semester plus three years of J-term classes. I even taught a class the spring Parker was born…for half the semester, Ben went in and videotaped debates and I graded them at home.

At the beginning, I just taught Intro. to Speech, but over time, I have branched out to teach upper level Communications classes too. It has been great to have a job I enjoy with a flexible schedule and limited time away from home.

But about a year ago, I started to notice the toll that my “great” job was taking. I was grumpy and perpetually tired. Because Madi & Parker stopped napping, I found myself starting my grading and class prep at 9 p.m. It didn’t help that I was pregnant. Toughest semester…by far. But, I figured that everything would go back to normal once Fiona was born, and I signed up to teach one class last fall, a J-term class, and two this spring.

Even though I had just one night class last fall, I still found myself struggling. I was tired out, still up at night with Fiona, and it showed. But, I refused to loosen my grip as I prepared for my J-term class.

Why was I hanging on so tight? I needed to figure out how to let go as I realized something had to change.

The first finger to loosen was my pride. The reasoning that “there are plenty of Moms who work a lot more than me and survive, so why shouldn’t I” just couldn’t cut it anymore. I needed to accept the fact that quitting didn’t mean I had failed.

I also had to let go of my worry about the future. I always felt that I needed to keep working so that I had options once the kids were all in school. I still think that stay at home Moms need to be proactive about their long term plans…keeping contacts fresh and skills up to date. However, I needed to ramp up my faith that God would provide…He always has.

The next finger I had to pry up was my financial contribution. My little paycheck helped to pay for groceries, dance costumes, Christmas expenses, stuff like that. Not much, but it made me feeI “important”. Unfortunately, once I took away the cost of my time, energy, and babysitting, I was barely breaking even. Plus, I needed to remind myself that there are many families who don’t have the option to have one parent stay at home during the early years, and if we could make it work, my desire to contribute to our bank account had to bite the dust.

Another thing I had to remember was the source of my identity. Our pastor talked recently about how our identity should come from Christ, not temporal things like people or positions. It’s not that it is bad to have those things, but we can’t rely on them to define who we are.Your kids grow up and move out…jobs come and go…but my status with Christ is infallible.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a firm believer that there isn’t a “one size fits all” solution for all families. In fact, I recently read an interview with Jennifer Garner where she lamented the grief we give each other as moms about the decisions we make and I heartily agree. We need to make decisions that are right for our families, not decisions that are right for someone else.

But for our family, after prayer, long talks with Ben (who is so supportive), a budget review, and self reflection, we decided this would be my last semester of teaching for at least a few years. Not an easy decision, but the right decision.

Back to Monk…when they finally pried Monk’s hand open and retrieved the ring, his hand stayed in a semi-clenched position. You could tell that his hand ached from gripping the ring for so long.

I can feel his pain. I have twinges of guilt, fear, and sadness. Letting go isn’t an easy gig for this Type A girl, even when it’s just a part time job.

Leave it to Madi to put it all in perspective. After I told her that I wasn’t going to teach for a while, she thought for a minute, and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. God has a job for you.”

You are right, kiddo, absolutely right…

— Rachel