At least once or twice a year since I turned 18, I have found myself sighing with relief and saying to myself, “I’m all grown up. Phew! Thank heavens that’s over.” And you would think that with a husband, a home, two children, and one on the way, I’d actually have meant it the last time I said it.
So. Not. True.
I still remember the first time I realized I was “grown up.” I was taking the garbage out to the dumpster in my apartment complex during my first semester at college. As I trotted along it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t have to go back to my apartment if I didn’t want to. I could go out for ice cream and no one would A. Question me or B. Know the difference. Oh, I was such an adult! Then, within days, I was back on the phone with my parents, in tears, wishing Mommy would come out and hold my hand.
I still do wish that on occasion (Hi mom!).
Every time I think I’m “all grown up,” something else happens to make me feel like a little kiddie all over again. Today, when I had to turn one of our two dogs over to the animal shelter (long story) I felt about five years old. I just didn’t want to do it. It was scary. It was unpleasant. I wanted to make someone else (namely DB) do it for me. I get the same way about other things, like calling people I don’t know or answering my voice mail or driving a long way alone. Why? I don’t really know, except that those parts of me are just still working on that whole grown up thing.
What this has reminded me of, however, is that in the eternal perspective of things I stillam nothing more than a child. Heavenly Father is so much wiser and more mature than I am, it’s almost laughable to try and call myself an adult. My body might be, but my spirit–my heart–still has a lot to learn. It’s a little disheartening at first pale to think I know so little after trying so hard. On the other hand, it’s absolutely wonderful to know that God will always be there to hold my hand. No matter how “old” I get in this life, He will always be the grown up I can turn to.