When Josh was in middle school--yeah, I may have lost ya right there--he was already dismantling and rebuilding computers and creating programs to automate his life. This was long before I'd heard of using a computer as more than a typewriter. Yet somehow he got to college and majored in molecular biology followed by medical school. I know; it's a sharp left turn. Why not upgrade that computer science minor to a major? Pursuing a mildly promising industry like "high tech"? Aw, better to get into a really well-run sector like...wait for it...healthcare.
Needless to say, he did a lot of soul-searching that last year of medical school (WHAT AM I DOING HERE?). Then, just in the nick of time, God totally dropped a new and emerging field (informatics) that combines computers, math, and medicine (his holy trinity) into his lap. And oh, by the way, he was already at the university with the largest department in that field.
Then, once he latched on to informatics, he had to figure out where to specialize. In five years, he had found a trajectory: genomics (aka personalized medicine). Using Vanderbilt's largest-single-system genetic database and electronic health record, he created a new way to research links between DNA and disease/treatments (phenotyping).
This is all pretty great and we have been blown away how God has provided just the right opportunity for his gifts at the right time and place again and again. But it's still on the personal level.
When you ask someone what they do, and their answer is medical research, there usually isn't much of a follow-up conversation. Who understands what most academic scientists are studying? You find your niche, pursue it for its intrinsic value, and pray it makes a dent in the vastness of WHAT WE DO NOT KNOW.
Or, the President of the United States decides to highlight your research area in his State of the Union and make it the thrust of a new national healthcare initiative at the National Institutes of Health (NIH).
Wait. WHAT!?
Exactly. We have been on this ride from feeling like he'd missed the boat, sitting in the wrong field, to finding a niche that had just developed and discovering he was actually sitting in its HQ, worrying about getting grants and proving himself in a tough economy to working at the NIH for his idol (Francis Collins). He could not have strategized it out. Plenty of scientists work just as hard in fields that get no recognition. We just got that lucky that God picked him, now, for this.
Or that's how we see it. And that's why my husband has an apartment in Maryland. See? I was coming back to that. He's been working Mondays at Vandy then flying back and forth Tuesday-Friday each week to work on a report for the president on how to structure this new initiative. And it's been a mighty experiment of its own: 1. trying out working for the government (him), and 2. feeling what it's like to have a daddy that travels every week (us).
Now that we're 3/4 of the way to the finish line, I thought I'd record a few of the things we've learned from this experience:
1. Traveling a lot (our normal) is not the same as traveling every week (our present). In some ways, every week is easier because it is predictable - no expectations to disappoint - no tension about whether he'll be here or last-minute trips to work around. When he's in town, he's (mostly) ours. We ADORE weekends. They're like holidays around here. Drop everything and PLAY WITH DADDY Time.
On the other hand, every week is harder. I still find myself on Tuesdays thinking, When he gets home tonight I'll ask him about... or we'll work on that together... Since he is a willful social media ignoramus (ahem), I am his only link to what we and our friends and family are up to. With him gone all week, that means he's even more out of touch than usual. It also means I can spend days working through a developing issue but he only encounters it once I've reached a conclusion Friday night - and Woe to the man who questions my conclusion after I've spent the last FOUR DAYS on the phone and web working it out. You see the potential.
2. Working a lot (our normal) is not the same as working out of town (our present). In his normal job, Josh was usually gone 7am-7pm Monday-Friday. At the time, I thought this was pretty close to gone, since the boys are up 6:45am-7:30pm. In some ways, it seemed worse because I used to watch the clock in hopes he'd get home sooner. Plus, I have to cook Real Food if he's eating dinner (not that he's hard to please - just that it's somehow different when there's another adult palate in the picture - someone who prefers Real Food to dinosaur oatmeal).
Turns out, that 15min in the morning and 30min at bedtime matter. I can't say that enough. They MATTER. They matter to the boys, and they matter to me. I hope I never dismiss that 45min again.
Then, there's the 7:30pm-6:45am for just us. Granted, we both tend to work at night. But we sit and talk while he eats dinner, we talk between and over projects, and we stop to watch a show and eat dessert before bed. Then, we get to go to bed together. I used to fret that I would get so much less done when he was here. Now, I know that it was Worth. It. Do I really need to spend 4 hours straight painting that bannister? Or writing this blog post? And what about the fact that neither of us sleeps as long/well when we're apart? I'm getting sick more because I'm tired more because He's Gone More. You get the idea.
3. Working for a nonprofit (our normal) is not the same as working for the government (our present). If we thought some of the restrictions placed on him by government-funded grants were ridiculous, they don't hold a candle to those placed on executive agency employees. And while every group of humans has organizational politics, suddenly he's been thrust into Politics politics, and it's a whole different ballgame.
To be fair, there are also upsides to working for a superpower. The scale (and impact) of the research is many multiples of what he could accomplish at one institution. At one point, a mentor told him it would be really good to work at the NIH. I said, "For your career?" Josh replied, "For humankind." Oh. Yeah. THAT. #whatever
4. Subletting an apartment (our present) is not the same as having a second home (our never). As Josh has discovered (to my delight, I admit), paying for a house does not make it homey. In fact, it makes it more like a dorm. Our visit in July helped humanize it, but the walls are still bare white, the food all out of the freezer, and he has a whole new appreciation for my Homegoods addiction. So there is some good coming from it. ;)
5. Some people ARE all they are cracked up to be. After we read The Language of God several years ago, we both joined the Francis Collins fan club. To find a Christian at the height of science was just too good. Then he scheduled a call with Josh, and we thought, What is he going to ask? Can you even say no to your idol? Thankfully, he just asked to "borrow" Josh for 4 months, so Yes was easy.
Since then, Josh has had the chance to become disillusioned by this mentor -- and it hasn't happened. Instead, Collins invited our entire family to his house for dinner. Me: "Are you sure? Did you tell him we'll have 3 little boys with us? And that they're 2-, 5-, and 7-years old? (Yes.) And they still want us to come??" They did. We went. It was amazing. They have double helixes built into their moldings and hardwood floors, and we sat around singing songs while he played his guitar. It was all very surreal. And worth the price of admission (see #1-4...).
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| Celebrating the completion of the Report to the President |
6. We would do it again, but not forever. October 1st, here we come!!
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