A shout out to good dads everywhere

As I wait at Schiphol airport for my flight to JFK, I’m reflecting on something I witnessed a few days ago while in Málaga. My parents and I went to see a couple of friends play with their jazz quartet at a resort on the coast, and while the atmosphere was nice and the music excellent, what really caught my eye and kept me entertained was a certain British family occupying the table in front of us. At first glance it was your typical family on holiday, but closer observation saw a father thoroughly engaged and present with his three boys as the mother sat back, relaxed, and recorded the memories being made with her camera. These boys were young - the eldest not more than ten - but they were all active, well-behaved and having fun. Most of all, they were reveling in their father’s attention. He’d get up at regular intervals and start dancing to the music with them, or he’d play the air guitar on their tummies, or he’d sit with one of them on his lap. I remember thinking, I hope this mother knows what she has. 

Sadly, what was playing out before me has become an atypical scenario. The new normal is parents with their 2.5 children, each sitting with their smartphone or tablet, fully absorbed in playing Candy Crush or some other senseless game on their devices. They ignore each other, unaware of their surroundings, detached from the present. Not rarely enough, one or both of the parents are slowly getting drunk and irritated as their children grow bored and petulant. 

I don’t know this British family, but what I saw blessed my heart. From the relatively short time I watched them, I could tell there was a lot of love and order there. This family sat for several hours enjoying the music and their surroundings. None of the three boys had a device. When they weren’t moving to the music, they were sitting around the table in well-behaved fashion. At one point, one of them pulled out some toy cars to play with. I can’t remember the last time I saw a kid play with actual toys. 

Part of me fell in love with this dad. I know nothing of his character or the dynamics of his family life, but what I saw was a father who was engaged and present, showing his boys how to have a good time, how to enjoy the moment, and how to make their mother glow. It’s hard for me not to be cynical at this stage of my life - most men just aren’t like this anymore. But to be fair, while there is truth to my cynicism, I know that there are good dads everywhere. They are fewer and farther between, but they are there. In fact, I know several of them personally. 

If you are one, I applaud you and I thank you. If you aren’t one, there’s nothing stopping you from starting. And maybe someday there’ll be a stranger sitting at a restaurant watching you and thinking, dang, I hope his wife knows what she has. 

Dealing with disappointment

I haven’t felt truly disappointed in several years. Obviously I’ve had to deal with small scale disappointments on a regular basis just like anyone. But generally things have steadily been going the way I want them to for about four years now. But this week I had to swallow a bitter pill that turned the tables on everything and made me feel like I was right back at square one. (Just a side note, I’m not actually back at square one, it just felt like that. Feelings are not truth!) 

The most amazing opportunity had virtually just landed in my lap and it was so wildly beyond anything I could possibly have thought up or orchestrated myself. There were just too many ‘coincidences’ and details falling into perfect place and all of the important people in my life were united in their affirmation and encouragement. It was literally one of those ‘too good to be true’ moments, except that it was actually happening. I could hardly believe my good fortune. I thanked God for his favor, reveled in his plan and praised him for his goodness. 

And then yesterday I got a call containing the worst imaginable news: Never mind, we can’t go through with it, we’re very sorry. The ‘too good to be true’ stopped being true and went back to being just ‘too good.’ The balloon had popped in a most spectacular fashion. I missed His favor, felt disappointed in His plan and questioned His goodness. 

I felt soooooo disappointed. Disappointed in myself for the impulsive mistake I’d made at the outset of this whole thing (even though I didn’t realize it was a mistake at the time); disappointed with the individuals who were in charge of deciding my role in this (I mean, my word! How inconsiderate!); but more than anyone else in this story, I felt disappointed with God. Why had he allowed such a spectacular buildup only to let it fizzle out into nothing? What was the point? Why drag me into this in the first place? Why present me with the answer to so many prayers just to snatch it away? How can this be good for me?!?! 

Also, I felt confused. How could I have mistaken random happenings for the hand of God? How could I have felt such peace and joy over something that wasn’t meant to be? And not just me, but the most important people in my life!?! Several of them had sensed the same thing as I had, that this was truly a God idea, not just a good idea. So what the heck, Lord? I DON’T GET IT!! 

Let me be clear: These were all emotions and questions coursing through my mind and heart, and legitimately so in my opinion. But these were not truth. 

The TRUTH is this: God is good to me. He has always been good to me and will continue to be so. He does have plans for me that are beyond my wildest imagination. He will give me the desires of my heart. He will entrust me with realizing the dreams he has placed in my hands. But he’ll do this in his own way and in his own time. And he will, for reasons only he knows and understands, ask me to let go of those dreams more than once. 

I’m reminded of the lyrics of a Nick Mulvey song that seem so pertinent right now: “The only way to hold on is to keep letting go.” This is such a hard truth to accept sometimes (heck, let’s be honest - most of the time). Because when we see His hand move to orchestrate things, when we see things starting to come together in ‘typically God’ fashion, when everything in our spirit says “Yes, this is it!”, it is so incredibly easy to fix our eyes on the form in which it happens rather than on He who makes it happen. My Morfar (maternal grandfather) reminded me of this yesterday as I sat crying on the telephone. He said, “Annika, this is not the end of the story. But you’ve got to seek Him, not the way, not the form, not the process. Seek Him.” 

So. In the words of Job, “Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him.” Dramatic wording, I know, and I’m not comparing my current circumstances to Job’s because that would just be foolish and inaccurate. But the principle here is the same. I trust in God’s plan because it is better than mine. There’s no getting around that fact, regardless of how disappointed I may feel right now. 

Wanting what I can’t have

I want things I can’t have. It’s a problematic part of my nature, and this past Sunday I was acutely aware of it - to the point of feeling convicted for not keeping my eyes on Jesus. I do make a concerted effort to “seek His Kingdom first” but I also frequently pester Him about the “and all these things shall be added unto you” bit (Bible reference: Matthew 6:33). Most of the time I’m dissatisfied with my life, not because I dislike the elements that fill it, but because I want more - always. 

I covet a lifestyle I can’t afford. I want fine dining on a weekly basis and trips with five star accommodations. I like expensive clothes and I dream about living in an out-of-my-price-range flat downtown with high ceilings, big windows and at least one brick wall. I want the unique furniture that costs an arm and a leg to ship home but is so totally worth it because each piece has a story. I want the man I can’t have. I want to be ‘soccer mom’ who writes freelance from home AND I want the high-powered career that sends me all over the world to put out fires and influence global decisions. I want SO MUCH. Sometimes I feel like Bob: “Gimme gimme gimme, I need I need.” (If you’ve never watched the film What about Bob?, stop reading this and go do that.)

This past Sunday the phrase “wanting what I can’t have” was going like a loop machine in my head - to the point that I had to ask the Lord for forgiveness for being so distracted by all the things I wanted but couldn’t have. What was wrong with me?!?! A virtual battle was in full swing in my mind: Am I wanting too much?!? At what point does all this wanting and dreaming turn from being a visionary attitude called faith into being a sin called covetousness??

I’m not that materialistic - sure, I like nice things and I desire to live expansively and generously - but I’m not really that attached to things. I am however attached to ideas of what I want my life to encompass. Wanting what I can’t have is a legit struggle for me. I don’t like settling for less than what I like, and on principle I don’t think that I should. I don’t subscribe to the ‘prosperity gospel’ but I do believe that God delights in surprising me with things I would never have thought within my grasp. Things that are impossible for me are not impossible for Him, so quite frankly I don’t believe I should stop wanting what is beyond my reach (and I’m not just talking about physical objects here). I take the liberty of dreaming big because I serve a big God. But the question is then at what point does ‘believing for big things’ turn into coveting? Where do contentment and resignation diverge? At what point should I stop wishing for things because they distract me from “seeking first the Kingdom”? It’s hard not to be ‘helpful’ in composing the “all else to be added” list, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t confess that on more than one occasion what I’ve wanted has not been what’s best - and I’m SO thankful in these instances that God knows more than I do and isn’t afraid to be the boring parent.

So how do I fix this? I can’t give up wanting things. I refuse to resign myself to a small existence. But as yet, what I see happening in my mind doesn’t match what’s happening outside of it, and it’s making me miserable. Am I merely Joseph the dreamer or will I ever get to be Joseph the governor? (Bible reference: Genesis 37-50) He had a hell of a time getting to that point (which, I suppose, puts my pity party into rather harsh perspective) but I’m sure he didn’t stop dreaming and wanting things. Now there is one man I’d like to have a long fireside chat with….

I've figured out why the world is the way it is.

You can stop wondering. I’ve figured out why the world is the way it is: The people who make decisions about policy and world order never left high school. I know this because of what happened today.

The elective course I’m currently in combines students from three programs – European Studies, Global Studies, and my program, International Administration and Global Governance (IAGG for short). Today our professor asked us to divide ourselves into study groups during the break. So that’s what we did – “we” being me and my fellow IAGGers. We’re the kind of people who like to leave the classroom and hang out in the hallway during our breaks, and while we were out there getting the job done, the GS and ES students stayed in the classroom and thought up another plan. 

Their idea was to have mixed groups of ES, GS and IAGG students so that we could all “benefit from each other’s various backgrounds,” and "couldn’t the 30 or so of us reach an agreement together?" Now, this was a perfectly swell suggestion, but for the IAGGers who had already formed two groups to the satisfaction of all involved, the new plan wasn’t so appealing. This resulted in our staying after class for 20 minutes arguing back and forth as to how to divvy up the groups. Some didn’t see why we should rearrange the groups that were already formed; others grew frustrated at the apparent unwillingness of IAGGers to work with people outside their program; some tried to corral the group toward a consensus, only to be undermined by others who weren’t having it; and on and on it went. I, being the good Swede, remained neutral throughout the negotiations, all the while feeling distinctly uncomfortable about how complicated and awkward we were making it. I could tell certain ones in the class were getting offended, and it wasn't the IAGGers.

In short, we ended up agreeing on a day and time for everyone to show up, but did we reach a decision regarding who would be in what group? Of course we didn’t. Because we’re all still in high school. In reality, what took place today was just a dress rehearsal for future summits on international policy and law that no one will agree upon. The one thing that will be agreed upon is the time and place of the next summit in which negotiations will continue and no agreements will be reached. 

Now, if one were to take a step back to surmise the situation, one could make an interesting observation: We see that Global Studies students – the future activists and NGO workers of the world – just wanted everyone to come together to share experiences and lend one another their different perspectives on the issues we are studying. Lyrics like “Come on people now/smile on your brother/everybody get together/let’s try to love one another right now” come to mind. We also see that the IAGG students – the pragmatists and future governing elite – felt perfectly satisfied to work with the people they already know and trust. They did what the professor had asked the class to do, they just did it out in the hall rather than in the classroom. Which, let’s face it, is how important political decisions are made – within closed groups in the corridors, not in the general assembly in great conference halls. 

So. Be at peace and anxious for nothing. The future activists and governing elites of the world do have plans for leading the masses into a prosperous 21^st century. The plans just happen to differ and the two groups just happen to not get along. There is absolutely nothing to worry about.

Empty Inside - a diagnosis

The title makes it sound like I’ve been diagnosed with existential anxiety, but after two days of prepping for a colonoscopy, I was, quite literally, empty inside. Preparations included a strictly liquid diet and strong laxatives – I’ll spare you the details. Needless to say, it was pretty unsexy. I spent two and a half days cursing the day I was born (not really) and trying not to burn too many calories (which was easily remedied by marathon-watching The Good Wife).

The actual colonoscopy procedure was undramatic. However, there is this thing with my body not responding well to strong pain killers or muscle relaxers that I’ve only come to realize since I started having trouble in October. And being half Italian, there of course needed to be drama at some point. Right before the procedure began, the nurse gave me a muscle relaxer, but instead of relaxing me it had the direct opposite effect. Halfway through the procedure, I noticed my hands growing stiff and curling in at the wrist. I couldn’t move them and I started hyperventilating. Once the doctor pulled the camera/tube thing out, the nurse moved me into a different room to calm me down. I remember my body turning completely rigid from the feet up, along with my arms, hands and mouth. I couldn’t talk normally and had no idea what was going on. I don’t think the nurse did either, because at this point she was pretty frenzied, trying to get me to calm down and breathe normally. Eventually I did calm down and she could straighten out my hands and things returned to normal.

It’s rare, but apparently some people react differently than expected to muscle relaxers and can even grow violent. The nurse had not seen my particular reaction before though. Not my finest moment to be sure, but it does make for a good story.   

Anyways, the verdict is that I have neither diverticulitis nor constipation issues as the previous two hospital visits had assessed. I have IBS (irritable bowel syndrome). This diagnosis does better at explaining the pain and symptoms I’ve experienced on several occasions since October (at times severe, at other times less so). There’s no cure for it and there’s no particular diet that will lessen the symptoms since the food triggers vary from person to person. It’s just something I’m going to have to live with and hope the pain won’t be too frequent.

I don’t really know what to take away from all this. I don’t know how or why I’ve developed IBS, but this is a thorn in my side I’m simply going to have to accept. I suppose that if the apostle Paul wasn’t exempt, I’m not either. God is still good to me. I just pray I won’t have to give up chocolate. 

Woes of a grad student, part 4: Academic language

I went to Journalism School for my undergrad. There I was taught how to write really well. Now I’m in grad school where writing really well is suddenly a skill I need to shed in order to be taken seriously by the academic community. In J-school we are taught - GRILLED - in clean, concise, smart writing. The goal is to say as much as you can in as few words as you can. You achieve this by editing until you cannot possibly omit one more word.

I like this kind of writing. I know this kind of writing. I understand this kind of writing. 

However, in grad school we are assigned verbose, often pretentious academic articles in which the authors attempt to convey as little as possible with as many words as possible. In fact, if you can add syllables onto words that already exist in order to create new words that mean exactly the same thing, you are truly accomplished.

Why use equality when one can use equitability? They mean the same thing, but adding two more syllables makes it sound so much more grandiloquent. Why be content with using three syllables - condition - when one can say it in six: conditionality? Why choose the word cause when one can say causation, or even causality? Communication becomes so much more clear when it’s circumlocutorily nuanced, right? 

Come on people. I get feeling the need to create a verb, adjective or adverb from a noun (I do that too), but creating two more noun forms from a noun that’s already a noun is just plain unnecessary.

You know what else is plain unnecessary? Sentences like these: “In this form, the ‘lexicographic maximin’ rule has been axiomatically derived in different ways…There is no necessity to interpret these axioms in terms of utilities only, and in fact the analytical results derived in this part of the social-choice literature can be easily applied without the ‘welfarist’ structure of identifying individual advantage with the respective utilities.”

Just stop. 

Woes of a grad student, part 3: Acronyms ad nauseum.

Contrary to what I might have expected, the most challenging aspect of grad school is not so much having to write literature reviews or learn to interpret statistics (though that part really sucks too, I promise you). It’s having to learn the millions of acronyms that stand for the different development organizations, programs and transnational coalitions.

I’ll show you what I mean: We have for example the IMF, the WB and the PRGF that all have to write PRSPs and CASs in accordance with the CDF, OD, and OP in order to seek qualification from the Enhanced HIPC, monitored through annual PERs and FIMS, all in cooperation with the WHO, ILO, UNICEF, UNDP, UNHCR, FAO, AfDB, DfID and USAID, organizations that are financed by OECD, EU, NATO and WTO members.

Sheesh, with all of this helpfulness it’s a mystery we still have conflict and poverty in the world. I mean, my goodness.

Here’s my master’s thesis proposal in 9 words: Cut the crap. Stop being important. Start being useful. Not scientific and analytical enough for you? IDGARA. Figure that one out.