As I see it there are three major levels of maturity in adults. The first group is the most mature. They are the ones who make the wise decisions, the ones who stop and think things through. They always plan ahead and get things done. However, don't count on them to help you Nair your brother's eyebrows off. Next are the moderately mature adults. I believe that most people fall into this category. These people know when it's ok to cut loose and when it's time to get down to business. They can conduct and boardroom meeting blindfolded, but they have been known to push an unsuspecting friend into a pool from time to time. And then there's the third group. These are the people that you hate to go into public with. These are the people who pretend to throw up in public trashcans when strangers are nearby. The ones who end up with jobs involving a chicken costume. Yes, my friends, I belong to the third group. However, sans feathery attire. About a year ago my husband asked me, "Are you ever gonna grow up?"
We had been at WalMart that night. I convinced a friend to put on a baseball helmet and let me whack her in the head with a metal bat(not recommended). The "TINK" was so loud that the manager came over. She was very impressed with our product testing methods. I could tell because she followed us throughout the store to make sure we had an enoyable shopping experience. When he asked me if I was ever going to "grow up" I thought about it. Children are blessed with a beautiful innocence and a carefree spirit. But as time goes by they are exposed to situations and people in this world that rob them of that innocence. That lightheartedness. It doesn't even have to be traumatic, just life. Their first mean kid, the first loss of a loved one, the first death of a pet. Before you realize it, you're 30 years old and life has rubbed you til you're caloused and hard. We lose that innocence we had. We become jaded, cynical. If we're not careful we lose our joy. Our ability to laugh at the little things. I want to look up in awe at a starry night sky. I want to be moved by a beautiful sunset. I want to make a new friend and believe the best about them from the start. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve. I want to sing and not care who's listening. I want to trust without worrying. If that makes me "not very grown up", that's ok with me. I can live with that.
I spent most of my childhood trying my best to disappear. To blend into a crowd. To be overlooked. I hid away in books as much as possible. If I wasn't reading, I was daydreaming. Those were safe. Real life and real people were unpredictable and scary. They could, and in my experience often did, hurt you. At 15 years old I began to write and by putting pen to paper I began to vent. To exercise some emotional demons, so to speak. My confidence built and I took my first tentative steps into highschool socialization. I made friends and began to date. At 16 I took off the training wheels and at 17, I fell. Hard. The kind of fall that's not easy to get up from. The kind of fall that breaks a person. And it broke me. I put the fake smile back in it's place and I tried to ignore the pain, the sadness, the disappointment in myself. But no matter what I did or where I went, it was always at the edges. Threatening to come flooding in and overwhelm me. I put down my pen for fear of what would come out if I began to write. But, writing is what I love. It's part of who I am. Over the last two years God has been mending the broken parts of me. It's a job that only He could do! While watching my daughter play outside yesterday, God spoke to my heart. As she laughed and ran and squealed in delight at the butterflies fluttering through our wild flowers, I realized that it's time. Time to let go. Time to pick my pen back up. Time to go chasing butterflies. You're welcome to join me.
