I Don't Know

I don’t know.

Period.

For some reason, we all seem to think that we need to add something to “I don’t know.” We think we need to give a justification for not knowing something. Whether it be why something went wrong, where we are supposed to go, how we feel, whatever really…we all think that there needs to be a justification for not knowing.

The feeling to explain ourselves only gets worse when someone points out what we don’t know.

One of the hardest lessons to teach a young scientist is teaching them that it is ok to say that they don’t know something. Of course we don’t have all of the answers yet; science is all about answering questions experimentally. If an experiment has not been done yet, then the answer does not exist.

And that’s ok.

Actually, it’s exciting when we don’t have an answer. It means that there is more to come.

Of course, there is a caveat to this. You can’t just say “I don’t know,” and move on. You also should not justify why you do not have the answer. Instead, we train young scientists to do something else.

First, acknowledge that there is not a definite answer.

Second, share what you do know.

Third, make a hypothesis based on what you know.

Fourth, test that hypothesis so you are ready for the next talk.

Now this is not just about research question sessions. It’s about life. We all have moments where we find ourselves not knowing something. We all find ourselves backed in to a corner by reality, and we have to own up to what is to come. We don’t have an answer. We don’t know what to say.

Even the smallest question, like, “where are you going next?” can throw us for a loop.

That’s ok.

What we have to do is exactly what my students have to do. Acknowledge that you do not know yet, and own up to it. Then, take a moment and look around at what you already have planned. Then, once you have collected yourself, plan the next step. Make it small and make it feasible. Then, with your miniature plan in front of you, try to accomplish that little goal. Life is not meant to be figured out, and we can only take small steps towards finding what we are called to do.

All the while, trust in God, the One who made the plan from the beginning.

I know that that is hard to do, especially when life seems to be nothing more than a blur. However, if we trust God to be with us in each little step, it is easier to trust that He will help us move towards the bigger and better parts of His plan. It’s ok if you are struggling to trust Him in the big moments right now.

Trust Him in the little things, and in time, you will trust Him with the big things. I promise. I’ve been there too.

Science is slow. It takes many years and many small steps to answer a big question.

So too is The Spirit. He takes many years and many small moments to lead us to our vocation.

With a deep breathe, I looked in to the microscope. My newest mentee sat on my right, hand poised to click “Live,” my senior mentee sat at her desk in the back, ready but not expecting me to get her if we saw anything exciting. Today was the day we used a new cholesterol analogue, one that only added a bond to a single ring, one that would show us once and for all what happened when cholesterol entered the cell.

“No way!” I nearly screamed. My mentee clicked on the computer to see what I saw. We gasped as we watched little purple dots sliding along thin tubular structures. Cholesterol was in lysosome tubules.

I screamed and ran down the hall in my tall black wedges to grab my senior mentee. Our newest grad student rushed along with us.

There, both the old and the new phases of our lab stood together, huddled in a little dark room, shivering from the fan, pointing over and over again at the little purple dots moving through the plane. It was dim, yes, but it was real. As I let each person look in to the microscope, I took a step back and took in the moment.

In the midst of an ending, I saw a beginning.

I saw forever.

As my Dear Readers know very well by now, my lab facilitated my grow as a scientist and as a person. My mentee taught me how friendship could be fostered in a lab and how such friendships allow for the “unhappy phase” to survive. Together, we helped train the new members of the lab, helped them become the new beginning I saw before me in the imaging room that day. My youngest mentee had overcome adversity and became brave through the little acts of my senior mentee, and now we would work together to build the project my senior would be leaving behind.

The Spirit moved slowly, quietly, and when I was ready, I was able to see my forever in the finite.

That’s how life is my Dear Readers. We live in finite moments so as to reach infinity. However, because The Spirit is moving through our world at every moment of every day, we are given small gifts, small moments, small inspirations that bring us to forever. It is not until the moment has passed that we realize just how much God has done for us.

We would never know that it was happening.

By saying, “I don’t know,” we allow The Spirit to enter our lives and teach us what God knows.

The next day I described the experiment to my advisor. I told him about the fluorescent cholesterol, and I could see the joy in his face. Then his face went dark and he looked at his hands.

“I asked the chemistry department to make this analogue two years ago, not too long before you joined,” he explained, “I wish they had told me about that sooner. Then we might have seen this earlier.”

My heart burned. Then it started to beat quickly as I spoke.

“I don’t think we could have seen this if I didn’t have to do all of those other experiments, all of those readings, and all of the other assays for the past two years. How would we have known that cholesterol would matter if we didn’t come upon the Japanese Patient? How would we have known the time point if I didn’t become so obsessed with one silly paragraph from the cover paper of Cell on the day I was born? How would we know when the tubule would shoot out, the concentration, or anything if it were not for all of the work Shannon and I did every day, under the radar?”

“If it were not for all of those little, seemingly unimportant pieces, then we would not have seen this,” I finished.

Dear Reader, every moment of our lives is like an experiment. We do not know what will happen. However, when we accept that we do not have all of the answers, when we take what we do know, and when we try our best, then The Spirit moves us to where we are meant to go.

Even if these litle moments seem unimportant, know that each second of your life matters.

Unseen, The Spirit moves through and in us. Unseen, The Spirit gives us love to spare. Unseen, our love compells us forward. Unseen, we take a step towards forever.

Trust in that Dear Reader.

Trust in the Unseen yet All-Powerful Spirit.

He has the answers. He knows all things, and He loves all things. All that we have to do is accept that we do not have the answers. All we have to do is stop expecting an answer, stop expecting an easy way out, stop expecting people to understand where we are going or what we are doing or whom we are loving.

Stop expecting things.

Start expecting love.

You will not be disappointed.