Freedom

It is 5 minutes until 7 on a Saturday morning.  I have already run 6.5 miles with a friend, walked my dog, and stopped to say the Serenity Prayer with Baltimore Back on My Feet after finishing my run and before coming home.  What a great way to start a busy day.

Yesterday was September 11.  Many friends took time to reflect on where they were when the planes hit the twin towers.  Or posted about always remembering.  Or posted about never forgetting.

Yesterday, I didn't do any of those.

But I did think about where I was.  (I had dropped my oldest off at school and the first plane struck while I was driving to work.  I arrived at the office of an anesthesiologist with whom I was to discuss collaboration and saw the second hit on a TV in his office.  I tried to work most of the rest of the day.  The sense of uncertainty and helplessness was profound.)  

I heard a story about kids who are now teens teaching even younger kids about 9/11.  I watched part of a documentary made a couple years ago about the children of 9/11.  

And I thought about my freedom.  I also thought about that in the context of another event for me yesterday.  It was not earth shattering.  It was just that the last PhD or DrPH student whom I am formally advising finished the final steps of getting her dissertation submitted yesterday.  She'd had her final defense.  Yesterday was the end of the administrative work.  And my submission of a letter saying she is done.

In the 19 years and three months that I have been at Johns Hopkins on the faculty, I oversaw 21 students completing their dissertations as their dissertation adviser.  (One was a co-advisor role.)  And there were another 5 for whom I was the adviser at some point but who finished (or are finishing with someone else).  And I have sat on many other committees for students.

But with my change in job from the School of Public Health to the Business School two and one-half years ago, I have not started advising any more students.  So, this is the end of this section of my career.  That is a choice.

Of course, a current student whom I have know for 3-4 years now and who has completed two years of medical school also visited me yesterday.  And when she told me that she had completed an ophthalmology rotation and decided that she wanted to do health services research and health economics as related to eye care--I almost cried.  Someone to carry on what I had begun.  That is incredible.  And she would do it as an MD/PhD.  That is her choice.  But the fact that it can fulfill a vision I had it what makes it so relevant to choices I had made.

Choices are great.  The freedom to make them--I cannot place a value on. 

Like the choice to run this morning starting at 5 o'clock.  I can run wherever I want and whenever I want.

Just like the choice of what religion to follow and how to follow it.

Just like the choice of where to live.  Where to send my kids to school What activities to sign them up for.

And I make a choice to carry on.  I make a choice to just keep on doing.  Or sometimes I make a choice to change.

The freedom to make the choices is what makes America a great place.  

That freedom is something I cherish.

That freedom is something I would never want to give up.

The freedom to write my story.  The freedom to rewrite my story.  The freedom to change the story when I want to.

It is all great.

And I will continue to enjoy that freedom.

That is why I note September 11. It was a day on which we were not sure how our freedoms and choices would change.  Some have been changed forever (like how we proceed through airports.)  But some are still very alive and cherished.  And will be celebrated always. 

So I end noting that four weeks from today I will run marathon number 7.  And it is called "Freedoms Run."  

The Spirituality of Advent--Day 2, Week 1

Hope, choice, and a celebration of life.

None of these are small topics.

Today's message of hope will involve writing about a funeral, and some of the thoughts that it inspires.  I am sure that I will focus on this for some (or even much) of the rest of the week.

The funeral I will attend today will be for a gentleman from the parish of which I have been a member for the past 17 years.  He passed away at age 48.  He had four kids.  I don't believe the oldest is out of college, and I think that youngest is a middle schooler.  Married 23 years.  While this is not the person who has passed away to whom I have been closest (that was Gerry Paradiso back in 2010, whose passing started my personal blogging), this is the person to whom I am closest in age.  And he lived in a nearby neighborhood.  And he went to the same church.  And he did everything a person is supposed to do.  And yet, at an age just a little over four years older than me, he is no longer with his family.  I have to admit, that while I have achieved much in life and I trust that things could carry on without me and I am satisfied with my accomplishment, the loss is scary.

It is offset by hope--for resurrection.

The choice--this morning, with Sherry away on her "fall break" for the second of five nights, I chose to take the dog for an extra long walk rather than run.  This was my celebration of life.

How?

Well, most mornings, I consider my running to be a clear celebration of life.  My life.  Although there are at least some mornings (like Thursday, Friday, and Saturday over Thanksgiving weekend), when I have the opportunity to run with others and celebrate life in an even bigger way.  All of this through gifts from God.  But most mornings, especially during the week, it is about celebrating only my life.  And with Sherry having been away for two nights, leaving me to sleep alone (not even the cat or the dog come to sleep with me through the night at this point) and manage the kids alone, I didn't want to focus just on my own life this morning.

So, I chose to walk the dog.

Walking the dog is always a celebration of life.  Two beings enjoying each other's company for a period of time.  Maybe conversation or maybe not.  Even if there is conversation, it is one way--although the dog can react.  Maybe silence and just enjoying the outside.  But celebrating the chance to do what people and dogs are supposed to do--be social and be together.

I will be playing my bass at the funeral today.  Even though there will be hundreds of people at the funeral mass, and I will know many of them through the years at the parish, I really only knew the family tangentially.  So, while I will be surrounded by many people, I fear that I will be mostly alone in an important way during this celebration of the life of an exceptional parishioner and process of hoping for the joy and peace and serenity of the resurrection.

That is why I chose to celebrate life by walking with my dog rather than running alone.  This helps me to remember that I am constantly on a walk with God.  And that is the source of much hope.  

Two Interesting Readings

After the Gospel last Sunday was read, a friend in church reminded me that she and I had discussed how her favorite reading was the story of the walk on the road to Emmaus and then shared that her second favorite story was the Transfiguration (the Gospel that had just been read).  I got to thinking about those two stories.

I wrote a lot about the road to Emmaus after a friend's wedding last September.  I was thinking about how the story of the Transfiguration and Emmaus fit together.  One conclusion that I reached is that both are about transformations before the eyes of followers of Jesus.  In the Transfiguration there are three apostles with Jesus who suddenly see Jesus dressed differentl and speaking with Moses and Elijah.  Then a voice told them that this was "my Son" and after that Jesus returned to his normal self.  In the road to Emmaus, Jesus was walking with two who know of him who did not realize that it was Jesus until he broke bread.  After that, Jesus immediately disappeared.  Both stories involve new ways of looking at Jesus.  Both involve changes in the followers' beliefs.  Both involve sudden changes after the realizations.  Both leave me thinking--if I had such a strong but short revelation--what would I do?  Would it change me forever, or would the brevity leave me wondering and more confused?  I don't know.

However, I find each story so interesting as they show how humans are sometimes left to struggle with messages from the divine.  The reactions were so different. The apostles with Jesus didn't tell anyone, whereas the two on the road to Emmaus immediately ran back to Jerusalem to share the news with others.  Which would I do if given the choice?