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For some reason, I have a vivid memory of my 8th birthday. When it was all over, the presents unwrapped, cake eaten, gal pals headed home, I laid in my bed in tears. The reason? I could feel, maybe for the first time, that I was aging; that I was going to have to grow up.

Sure, it’s inevitable - at least in terms of the physiological progression of maximum bodily potential and vitality, followed by the gradual decline towards decay. Lovely. And while often the growth process with regards to both the body and the “rest of us” (aka heart, mind, soul?) are more connected than we think (just ask the raging hormones of a 15 year old or the post-menopausal woman), there are just some parts about “growing up” that are a bit more unpredictable and circumstantial. Sometimes major life events, such as the divorce of our parents, our marriage, child-rearing, etc open us up to new experiences, new responsibilities, and new ways of relating. Sometimes its working through things, learning and education, counseling, so on which brings us to new levels of self-awareness or responsibilities to compose ourselves as competent “adults” in a big, big world of diversity. Maybe its doing some travel and seeing this diversity first-hand, being able to see beyond the scope of the town you grew up in and the small group of people with which you have most of your interaction. It’s often close relationships, too, with a partner, parents, friends, children, boss’ or co-workers, neighbors, pastor, etc who push you to new limits (to put up with them?) or challenge your preconceived ideas about how you and the world around you operate. And isn’t it also accurate to say that the most emotionally stunted individuals are those who are isolated, who refuse to partake in community for fear that they might just have to deal with people that don’t like them, or that they don’t like, or (gasp! even worse?!) some one who challenges them to work through their insecurities, bad habits, and poor relational skills in order to come out stronger and more equipped with grace and love. People who can avoid others by the simple close of a door, so they don’t even have to share a backyard.

But life is short. Yesterday I had a baby and today he is nearly three years old. Blink.of.an.eye. I could say that, if I’m very, very lucky, I have already lived only one quarter of my life on this planet. But something tells me that in the end, the other three quarters will be too quick also. I’ve been stuck on this concept lately that my time here is best spent serving, loving, and -yikes- growing, and not on petty disagreements or fits of temper, avoiding touchy situations and pleasing people. I’ve got all these sore spots in my heart, like little areas of decay, from anger and resentment and insecurity and lack of trust, and if I’m not in the process of healing them, but rather picking at them and opening them back up again and again, then I’ll suffer from infection. And I don’t want that, because it doesn’t sound nearly as fun as the reckless abandon and gut-wrenching uncertainty of living this one short life out to the fullest.

So my mantra lately? To grow up. Like the magnet on my fridge reminds me, “Put your big girl panties on and get over it.” Or, to put it another way, no more peeing in my diaper. I just hope I have a confident heart like my kiddo, who, after using the “big” potty, emerges to say:
TAAAA - DAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 24th, 2008 at 9:58 pm and is filed under Current Events, Faith 'Flections, Motherhood