At dinner the other night, my youngest said “Grown-ups know everything.”
Then, the seven year old chimed with…”No way, they only know about some things.”
I laughed to myself, and I remembered having that unbridled confidence in grown-ups. I think of all the adults I grew up around and that I considered any age of 30 and above as gray-headed and ancient and somebody’s mom, dad or teacher. In my mind as a child and early teenager, I did not consider adults to have struggles or doubts or to be at a loss for direction. They were “adults,” and they had it together. They had quick answers that were always right. (I didn’t have a category for people in prison–my life was small town sheltered.)
Then, I began growing and experiencing “real life.” Everything had structure until graduating from high school. It’s like the ages of 18-24 are a no-man’s land if you need structure and stability. We call it “freedom,” but really there was a lot of confusion in the midst. We are trying on different hats and life choices and don’t even recognize who we are in the mirror. And then, we have a diploma or a job or a ring on and supposedly, we are adults that have answers.
Then these words come out of our mouths…. “wait, this is it? This is what I have been preparing for? Can I get a manual? I’m sure there has been a mistake! I’m the only one who is a royal mess inside!”
What we experience is grief that life is not what we hoped or thought or were promised that it would be. Facing that loss that we experience is the first step in maturity. Some of us never make it out of the cycle of grief–looking for what we were owed. We may jump from job to job or relationship to relationship, numb ourselves with what we can buy or consume, or blame everyone for our issues, but that grief is still there lodged and real growth is stunted.
The real maturity of adulthood? Knowing and embracing we don’t have the answers within ourselves. That doesn’t mean we throw our hands up, but we examine ourselves.
A few months ago, Greg and I had our biggest parenting hurdle thus far, and we were at a complete loss as to how to lead a situation with our oldest, and we had to make a fast decision. We were stonewalled. I asked Greg…”what do we do?” He said–“I don’t know any better than you…we are making it up as we go!!!” There was a freedom in hearing him say that because I often go back into “adults should have all the answers” mode. Thank the LORD that we have people who have walked before us on this journey and we also have God’s guidance as we make decisions.
Then, one by one, I began thinking of all those adults that were there when I grew up. I thought of ministers, teachers, moms and dads, doctors, young couples. I wanted to go back and to hug them because I realized all that they were carrying when I just saw them as an adult who had it all together. They were carrying pain, doubts, insecurities, marital troubles, shame… Yet, they loved me and made me feel safe.
Adulthood–man. It has been my favorite time in life and the most terrifying and hard time in life. It has been the time that I have known my need for One beyond me in the greatest of ways. I have seen myself be a mess, and I know that I cannot put the pieces back together. When we don’t have the answers that is actually the greatest gift because it drives us to look for the One who does. And, He greets us with grace and love, and he sets the bones we have broken along the way to grow into Him. He replaces our ways of coping with His spirit and His truth. We can freely admit that we are broken and that He is the healer. And, like the children of Israel in the desert, He give us what we need for TODAY. It is a trust exercise over and over and over. We want a downloaded plan for the next 10 years, but growth and life and trust do not work that way. We have the freedom to admit where our Hope and our Strength and our Wisdom comes from. Beautifully, we can teach our children to look to Jesus because life will not be what they expect or want it to be, but there is a deeper joy in the midst if they walk into the grief instead of running from it.