Three Endings and a Funeral

This weekend I buried my pet potato. Hairy Potater came to me as a gift from my brother-in-law, Parker, who, when scrambling to make me something for Christmas, asked my sister Abi what I wanted. Abi called me. "I don't know," I said, predictably indecisive. "I'd be happy with anything. I'd be happy with...a potato that looks like Harry Potter."

Well.

Happy Christmas, Hairy.

I am sure that Park did not expect me to like the present, much less keep him. Much much less take him on field trips around Boston.

Hairy visited me at school.

He loved the Boston Public Library: "It's like magic."

We even went to Harvard, which he kept pronouncing "Harvwarts."

Hairy was my quarantine buddy. We went on walks together and sometimes he sat by my computer while I worked. We met squirrels and enjoyed a snowy, empty Boston.

But alas, all things must go the way of the earth, most especially potatoes. My roommates kept asking when I was going to bury him (though he barely smelled, the dear boy), but I wanted to wait for the right moment, wait till I had closure on one of the weirdest summers of my life. Finally, on Sunday, we laid him to rest.

Good night sweet prince

This summer brought many changes for me. Obviously, considering what's happening on a national and global level. But also on a personal level. 

I finished up a year of serving as Relief Society president in my church congregation, a leadership role that is equal parts love and logistics, soaring joy at the little miracles and aching fear that you are not doing enough to help. I learned so much from serving those beautiful, vivacious, diverse women: There can be deep love in difference, even political difference. You're not supposed to do it alone. It is better to be generous than to be efficient. If you listen, God will let you know when he needs you. The greatest strength is a soft heart. Sometimes you will be unprepared and uncomfortable. Consecrate that discomfort for good.

After 3 years working hard in a lab and subfield of psychology where I felt painfully out of place, I decided to take a terrifying step. I decided to leave my lab and find a new situation. Gratefully, I was accepted to work in a different lab in my same department. Both my old and new lab members have been exceptionally gracious through this process, not to mention my friends & family who spent many (many) hours listening patiently to my agonizing. Sometimes you try really hard to figure out what went wrong. Sometimes the best thing is to move forward.

And I had the great blessing of teaching my first class as the primary instructor. Through seven weeks of Zoom classes, with 16 students in 6 time zones, all developing a way to collect data with pandemic-related restrictions, I have never found more purpose or joy in my work. Even teaching at 8 am, even when I spent 3 straight days grading papers till my eyes fell out, there was an undercurrent of contentment. The end of my class was bittersweet. I was glad to have a break (because wow, exhausting), but I already miss my students.

I am still seeking purpose and renewal, still learning to listen to what I want, to decipher my dreams. On good days I believe that, regardless, I will be ok. And I believe in a God who will be with me through everything. Life is so often stranger than you imagine, and that is scary. But, in the words of a great potato wizard, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."