What Did I Come Here For?

A Poem, and a Reflection

All my thoughts seem to run together,
Or at least past each other and sometimes over.
And the most useful are ever being taken under,
Swallowed in a sea of half-remembered obligations,
Assignments, and deadlines I forgot to calendar.
There are poems half-written, articles un-pitched,
And at least a few novels dead on the vine
While the vines of emails that should have been meetings
And meetings that should have been emails swallow
Neural fibers earmarked for greater things.
But purer tragedy still is in the choking out—
Like the untended edge of an untravelled road—
Of love,
Of the patience required to be present with another,
Of the attention a child seeks in hugs or haranguing,
Of the needs of a neighbor or the watchful silence of a sunset.
Productivity is the least of our losses,
When the world grows roots too deeply 
Into a soul's ill-prepared soil.
It will take all you give and then take more,
But for the care of someone who sees,
And cuts through the cords
To free a mind for the hard, hard work of rest.

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To those who know me out in the wide world that exists beyond this Substack, you’ll recall that I finished a Master of Divinity degree last month, after 6 years¹ of work.

I’m a little tired.

More than that, I’m only just beginning to come to terms with what exhaustion—pushing yourself harder than is healthy for so long—costs. It’s going to be a long road back to health, to writing what compels me instead of what is due, to being rather than doing.

I’m thankful for the opportunity to learn and grow and the doors having this degree opens in ministry spaces, yes. But I’m also sitting with more than a little buyer’s remorse as my body and soul try to come to terms with what just happened and all my relationships need some serious elbow grease. There is grief in the joy, in ways I should have anticipated, but also in ways that keep catching me off-guard.

The tangle of poison ivy, peppervine, cinnamon vine, Virginia creeper, and more slowly devouring the newly paved alley behind our house gave me a metaphor (the first, I’m sure, of many)² to start to wrestle with this side of the journey and start finding more sustainable ways to live again.

The temptation (expectation?) upon finishing an educational milestone is to lurch on ahead, carrying that anxious energy into a new career, a new pay-grade, or a new position (even, with my particular degree, a pastorate). Given how depleted I’m feeling this summer, I’m wondering how anyone does that without living in a constant state of burnout.

Sometimes you need to hit the brakes or you’ll just break.

1. It’s supposed to be a 3-year program, but at 106 credit hours, I’m not sure how many actually finish in that timeframe with any outside obligations layered on. I felt like I pushed myself too hard to do this even at the pace I did while also working full-time and trying (often failing) to be a present parent to 4 kids.

2. Additional hat tip to Christian Wiman’s “All My Friends Are Finding New Beliefs” for help with a bit of structure to hang the ideas on.