solanum dulcamara

Solanum dulcamara, also known as bittersweet, bittersweet nightshade, bitter nightshade, blue bindweed, Amara Dulcis, climbing nightshade, fellenwort, felonwood, poisonberry, poisonflower, scarlet berry, snakeberry, trailing bittersweet, trailing nightshade, violet bloom, or woody nightshade, is a species of vine in the potato genus Solanum, family Solanaceae. It is native to Europe and Asia, and widely naturalised elsewhere, including North America, where it is an invasive problem weed.

bittersweet.  I think that is the best description of the last thirteen days of my life.  I do think it is very interesting, though, that bittersweet is an "invasive problem weed" - yet there is something undeniably beautiful about it.  To me, bittersweet implies a certain complexity . . . something with complexity is often more mature and nuanced.  Often you may need a slightly more discriminating palate to fully appreciate it. 

Like chocolate.  When I was a kid (okay, who am I fooling, until I was about 25. . .), I was a Hershey's milk chocolate girl.  It has only been recently that I have begun to appreciate dark, semisweet chocolate.  It took getting used to.  But I know it's probably a bit better for me and have grown to, for the most part, prefer it.

Okay, what the HECK am I rambling about?

You know my weird, odd references to some magical date at the end of February?  2.22.13.

The day came.

Match Day.

The day that has been responsible for about 90% of the stress and anxiety that I have experienced thus far in graduate school.   The day I started thinking about and planning for less than two months after beginning classes my first semester at GW.  The day where 3000 doctoral graudate students find out where they will spend what is essentially a residency year prior to graduation.  And a day where another 1000+ students across the country are DEVASTATED because they were unmatched.  The process is horrifically competitive, draining, and stressful.  I traveled across the country and probably spent almost 100 hours in face-to-face interviews in December and January (there was a week where I literally was up at 2 am on Monday - went to Manhattan and back, got home at midnight, left for Philly at 3:30 am on Tuesday, worked on Wednesday, got up at 3:30 am on Thursday - drove to Long Island and back, had a Skype interview on Friday and flew out two hours later to see our families for Christmas) --- that kind of schedule was my Christmas break.  It was draining but I felt so incredibly fortunate to have interviews - because there are some people who don't even get interviews (it's that crazy). 

After interviews, candidates rank sites and sites rank candidates.  Then everything is input into a computerized system where an algorithim (it's the same one used for med schools) spits out the matches and everyone finds out if they matched and where they matched to.

I matched to an incredible training program and will have the opportunity to spend my final year of clinical training in Princeton.  My major rotation will be at the University Medical Center in their (phenemonal) eating disorder treatment program.  This will be what I drive up to in the mornings:

I was relieved.  Wow was I relieved.  And grateful.  And humbled.  God's hand has been so very evident in EVERY SINGLE STEP of this process.  Around every bend there has been a "glitch" where it has required nothing short of miraculous intervention to get me to the next step --- from my admission to the PsyD program at GW to matching.

But it was bittersweet.  My expectations of the 22nd bringing overwhelming relief and jubilant celebration were unrealistic.  Because with this good news came a great deal of pain.  And second guessing.  And guilt.  And panic.  And fear.  And more second guessing.  And tears.

I think that God has done more humbling, convicting, growing and maturing of my heart and my soul in the last two weeks than I have experienced in the last two years.  And it has been excruciating (why must growth be like that?!).  With the wonderful news of this opportunity came the reality of some additional separation after Philip's next deployment.  While I had that very much intellectualized and compartmentalized and sealed real tight for a long time (which you have to do as a military wife- it's just adaptive coping), it hit me on a very emotional, very visceral level about 45 minutes after I received my notification on the 22nd.

I spent the first week completely overwhelmed.  I still have waves of being overwhelmed, but there is a burgeoning sense of peace and calm growing in my heart.  This is the place God's hand strategically placed me.  I'm not sure how Philip and I will get through  the year.  On our own strength we wouldn't.  Thankfully, this isn't terrain that we have to try to navigate alone:

You hem me in--behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.  Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?  If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.  If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"  even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.  For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  Psalm 139:5-14

I am hemmed in.  I am held tightly.
I am never alone.
I am eternally grateful.