I sit, lethargic, before my computer, staring at the screen with a mind that is active but a body that wishes not to be put into motion.
In my right ear, I hear, "What's going on?"
I shrug as I feel the tears build because I know he hears me.
ME: Don't think I can do this.
GOD: Do what?
ME: This, this Ph.D. I mean, you and I both know I'm going to if for no other reason than I hate to disappoint, and I fear people looking at my differently.
GOD: Even though I told you it's not about what others think--it's about the good path you've chosen to take and the missions that must be accomplished while on that path...?
ME: Basically. (sighs) I just don't think I'm smart enough. I'm not really smart, you know? I think I play smart well, but I don't embody it all that much.
Silence ensues, and I look around, sit still, hoping to hear him again.
Finally, he sighs, and I feel his hand on my back. I sob.
GOD: Didn't I tell you to apply to this school...and just this school?
ME: You did, and initially, I thought you just needed some humor in your celestial life. Who applies to ONE school?
GOD: You.
ME: You got me. (sighs) But, Dad, you've seen me. My life is so overwhelming, and most days I'd rather sit and stare off into space instead of work, and some days, some days the depression hits so
hard that sitting and staring is like too much work.
GOD: Do you remember when you got that call from the school, three hours before the closing time for applications to be turned in?
ME: (shudders) Oh my God...sorry, I mean, yes. I was so scared, and I knew for sure then you were trying to set me up.
GOD: You had three hours to get a recommendation to the school. And what happened?
ME: Found the one person in the world least likely to help me.
GOD: And what did she do?
ME: Help me. Big time.
Silence collects, but I don't fret. I hear his breathing against my ear. I smile.
Then frown.
ME: Daddy, I just don't...(sighs)...I feel old. I feel done. I feel so out of my element right now. About any and everything. Not even my academics can squash it, and in the past, it could.
GOD: Remind me, who was given a fellowship their first year, a fellowship that helped with living expenses and needs?
ME: Me, but I don't think...
GOD: And who finished coursework in a year and a half, despite insecurities in the first semester and unnecessary people and circumstances in the second?
ME: I get what...
GOD: Who?
My body trembles from the thunder in his voice.
ME: (soft) Me.
GOD: And who suffered a major bout of depression that left her spending three of her six months for qualifying exam prep crying, balled up on the bed, the sofa, barely eating and not leaving the
house--yet still managed to do an excellent job on the exams?
I shake my head as a warmth fills my body.
ME: Me.
GOD: And who, still in the midst of that depression, was able to get both her dissertation proposal and her IRB proposal accepted?
I point at myself.
GOD: Say it. Speak life.
ME: Me.
God sighs. Despite myself, I chuckle.
GOD: Me what?
ME: I did that. (rubs neck) But Dad, this time it's different. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. I'm scared. I'm worried. I'm unsure. I'm resigned. I'm all over the place and no place. I feel so alone.
(feels his hand on shoulder) Although I shouldn't say that, considering you are with me, and with you, I got everything.
GOD: Day in, and day out.
My body shakes, and sobs increase as God wraps me in his arms. He rubs my hair and drops a faint kiss upon my forehead.
GOD: I have a question.
ME: Yes, Dad.
GOD: Do you trust me?
ME: Without question.
GOD: Oh, there are questions--you listed them earlier. You say you trust me, but you're scared, worried, unsure. Doesn't sound like a trusting person.
I cast my eyes down.
ME: Forgive me, Father.
GOD: Answer me this: Do you believe that when I tell you to do something it's for your good?
ME: Yes.
GOD: Who told you to pursue your Ph.D. finally?
ME: (silent for a few seconds) You. (lifts a finger emphatically) BUT, perhaps starting the journey wasn't about finishing it. Perhaps you want me to go to learn or figure out something else.
GOD: (chuckles) Nice try. So, the recommendation, the classes, the managing-through despite depression, the qualifying exams, the proposals--all of that was to teach you about something else not
related to the Ph.D.?
ME: (unsure) Perhaps?
GOD: So, I brought you all this way to say, "I'm just playing" and leave you stranded?
I don't speak. He's right, which convicts me right where I sit.
Before I can utter, "I'm sorry," before I can tell him that I trust him and it's me I have doubts about, he pulls me close and whispers, "Come, rest upon me. Let your worries and cares go play for
a while."
I close my eyes just as he kisses my hair and whispers, "It is all finished, my daughter."
I feel those words move and settle just beneath my heart.
In my right ear, I hear, "What's going on?"
I shrug as I feel the tears build because I know he hears me.
ME: Don't think I can do this.
GOD: Do what?
ME: This, this Ph.D. I mean, you and I both know I'm going to if for no other reason than I hate to disappoint, and I fear people looking at my differently.
GOD: Even though I told you it's not about what others think--it's about the good path you've chosen to take and the missions that must be accomplished while on that path...?
ME: Basically. (sighs) I just don't think I'm smart enough. I'm not really smart, you know? I think I play smart well, but I don't embody it all that much.
Silence ensues, and I look around, sit still, hoping to hear him again.
Finally, he sighs, and I feel his hand on my back. I sob.
GOD: Didn't I tell you to apply to this school...and just this school?
ME: You did, and initially, I thought you just needed some humor in your celestial life. Who applies to ONE school?
GOD: You.
ME: You got me. (sighs) But, Dad, you've seen me. My life is so overwhelming, and most days I'd rather sit and stare off into space instead of work, and some days, some days the depression hits so
hard that sitting and staring is like too much work.
GOD: Do you remember when you got that call from the school, three hours before the closing time for applications to be turned in?
ME: (shudders) Oh my God...sorry, I mean, yes. I was so scared, and I knew for sure then you were trying to set me up.
GOD: You had three hours to get a recommendation to the school. And what happened?
ME: Found the one person in the world least likely to help me.
GOD: And what did she do?
ME: Help me. Big time.
Silence collects, but I don't fret. I hear his breathing against my ear. I smile.
Then frown.
ME: Daddy, I just don't...(sighs)...I feel old. I feel done. I feel so out of my element right now. About any and everything. Not even my academics can squash it, and in the past, it could.
GOD: Remind me, who was given a fellowship their first year, a fellowship that helped with living expenses and needs?
ME: Me, but I don't think...
GOD: And who finished coursework in a year and a half, despite insecurities in the first semester and unnecessary people and circumstances in the second?
ME: I get what...
GOD: Who?
My body trembles from the thunder in his voice.
ME: (soft) Me.
GOD: And who suffered a major bout of depression that left her spending three of her six months for qualifying exam prep crying, balled up on the bed, the sofa, barely eating and not leaving the
house--yet still managed to do an excellent job on the exams?
I shake my head as a warmth fills my body.
ME: Me.
GOD: And who, still in the midst of that depression, was able to get both her dissertation proposal and her IRB proposal accepted?
I point at myself.
GOD: Say it. Speak life.
ME: Me.
God sighs. Despite myself, I chuckle.
GOD: Me what?
ME: I did that. (rubs neck) But Dad, this time it's different. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. I'm scared. I'm worried. I'm unsure. I'm resigned. I'm all over the place and no place. I feel so alone.
(feels his hand on shoulder) Although I shouldn't say that, considering you are with me, and with you, I got everything.
GOD: Day in, and day out.
My body shakes, and sobs increase as God wraps me in his arms. He rubs my hair and drops a faint kiss upon my forehead.
GOD: I have a question.
ME: Yes, Dad.
GOD: Do you trust me?
ME: Without question.
GOD: Oh, there are questions--you listed them earlier. You say you trust me, but you're scared, worried, unsure. Doesn't sound like a trusting person.
I cast my eyes down.
ME: Forgive me, Father.
GOD: Answer me this: Do you believe that when I tell you to do something it's for your good?
ME: Yes.
GOD: Who told you to pursue your Ph.D. finally?
ME: (silent for a few seconds) You. (lifts a finger emphatically) BUT, perhaps starting the journey wasn't about finishing it. Perhaps you want me to go to learn or figure out something else.
GOD: (chuckles) Nice try. So, the recommendation, the classes, the managing-through despite depression, the qualifying exams, the proposals--all of that was to teach you about something else not
related to the Ph.D.?
ME: (unsure) Perhaps?
GOD: So, I brought you all this way to say, "I'm just playing" and leave you stranded?
I don't speak. He's right, which convicts me right where I sit.
Before I can utter, "I'm sorry," before I can tell him that I trust him and it's me I have doubts about, he pulls me close and whispers, "Come, rest upon me. Let your worries and cares go play for
a while."
I close my eyes just as he kisses my hair and whispers, "It is all finished, my daughter."
I feel those words move and settle just beneath my heart.
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