On Growing Up

I think the concept of being “grown up” is a fiction. Certainly there’s a point in your life when you are and adult responsible for supporting yourself and making your own decisions (whether you know how or not.). But I shudder to think of a time when I would be considered “grown up” because that implies that you have finished growing, finished changing. I’m too imperfect for that.

This year I turn twenty. Twenty is that awkward year where you’re no longer a teenager but not yet a “legal adult.” You’re expected to be more mature than your younger teenage peers but not considered mature enough to limit your own alcohol intake. At least, that’s how I always thought of twenty. But a study I read recently said that more and more college students are returning home after college and not just because of the poor job market. I think this is because America is not asking our youth to grow up. Now, I realize I’m only nineteen but I’m remarking more on what I see around me than on what I think it is my responsibility to change now. Youth are given better and further education then ever was dreamt of (especially for women) in the days of some of my favorite writers. Yet our vocabulary, grammar, morals, and manners are poorer. Our country is giving our youth brilliant minds and not asking them to use them. We claim that it is okay to use abbreviations in everyday speech (and not just as a joke as I do, mom). I fear for a country whose future representatives, senators, and presidents can’t get through a conversation without an omg, lol, or swear word. And now these adults, these not-at-all-grown-up grown ups are having their own children.

My family is far from perfect. But recently my dad did something that I really appreciate. I was faced with a decision that I didn’t want to make. I poured out my dilemma to my dad with the tears in my eyes just begging him to make the decision for me. He refused. He said that I was “old enough to make up my own mind and young enough to resent him if he made the decision and made the wrong one.” He was right. This didn’t mean that he wasn’t there for me as I hashed out this decision helping me along the way with insight; it meant that ultimately the choice was mine. He was asking me to grow up.

I’m grateful for a dad who encourages me to use the mind that God has given me and he helped to educate. I’m on the other side of this decision wiser and maybe just a bit more “grown up.”

Keep on singing,

Oh Look, It's Raining.

I feel like it's been raining for two months straight. Unlike most people, this doesn't bother me much. But after a week of traipsing out in the rain to get to work, I'm quite thankful to be sitting at home today doing absolutely nothing. Well, nothing except waiting for my mocha popsicles to harden, drinking my second cup of coffee for the day, and watching the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice. Cause let's be honest, who (of the female gender) wouldn't want to wake up on a rainy morning such as today and see this walking across the field to your house.

Yeah, I thought so. . .


Keep on singing,

Intentionally Thankful

Last Wednesday I wrote about how I always find myself slipping into complaining. I still don't haven't come up with an answer on how to combat that. I know the best way to avoid complaining is to be consciously thankful. But how do you remember to be consciously thankful. I think, at least at the start, it means being intentionally thankful. I was torn about this because I felt like in order for my thankfulness to genuine, it shouldn't be intentional. It should be spontaneous. I shouldn't have to say, "Okay, when I wake up in the morning I need to think of five things for which I'm thankful" and write a note to remind myself. It shouldn't take practice.

I realized I was wrong. Because it is not a part of human nature to rejoice. If we are living for ourselves, then we have joy only in the betterment of ourselves. If we are living for ourselves, it is not enough to have a job, we must have the best, highest-paying job. Thankfulness for the Christian, comes from the realization that apart from God we deserve nothing. Every thing we have is a gift from Him. Paul commands us to "rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice."
It is not natural to be thankful, and things that are not natural take practice. The dictionary defines to practice as "to do or perform often, customarily, or habitually." It takes a minimum of thirty days of intentionally completing an activity for it to become a habit. So today, I will write a note on my chalkboard reminding myself to be intentionally thankful. I will write it on post-its and put them around my house, in my Bible, my Kindle wherever I can think of that I may need a reminder. I will start a list of things for which I am thankful because writing it down helps to make it stick.

I am thankful for . . .

1 . . . rain that waters the lilies in our garden.

2 . . . shoes on my feet.

3 . . . my raincoat.

4 . . . my job.

Keep on singing,

Seriously?

Dear BJ's Wholesale Club,

I totally respect your request that I don't park in a particular spot because it's reserved for handicapped people. That is a noble and honorable request. I can even kind of understand why you would reserve a parking spot for carpool and vanpool. And I especially understand why you would save parking spots for mothers with infants. While not a mother myself, I have gone shopping with infants and it is no small feat. However, this is just ridiculous.

How do you even know how fuel efficient my car is?! You don't. I will park where I want. Or my mother will since I don't drive. . .


Sincerely,

Graduation

Sometimes there are no words to express the intense emotions that you experience. So I will not attempt to wax brilliant tonight. I’ll simply say – I’m so proud.

Keep on singing,

I'm a Party Animal . . .

. . .a pity party animal that is. I complain. A lot. Even things that I tend to miss when I don’t have to do them, become fodder for my complaining spirit. There’s a negative spin that can be put on everything. It’s all too easy to do. Instead of being thankful I can afford school, I complain about having to attend. Instead of being happy that I don’t have to go away to college, I lament the troubles of living with your parents and having to follow their (not at all strict) rules. Instead of rejoicing in the fact that I even have a boyfriend, I bemoan the fact that I only get to see him about every four weeks. Complain, complain, complain.

The problem is that while I identified this as a flaw in my character, I don’t know how to address it. I don’t do it consciously. It’s not like a start everyday thinking, “now how can I make this the worst day ever?” It just happens. And when I notice it, I try to spin it back to the positive. But sometimes I don’t notice until much later, too much later to backtrack and put a positive spin on the words I’ve already spilled for others to hear. I hate listening to people complain. I’m the first one to point out the positives in their life so that they can stop feeling sorry for themselves. But I can’t seem to do this for myself.

When I have so much to be thankful for, why do I allow myself to complain about the trivial? Sometimes when I write, the process of “getting it out” leads me to an answer. Not this time. I don’t know how yet, but this has got to stop.

Keep on singing,

The Best Years of Your Life

As I neared college age, everyone always told me that college would be "the best years of your life." Although I would be lying if I said the past year hadn't been good, it wasn't college that made it so. I'm enjoying these years, but I'd like them to go by quite a bit faster because I've known what I wanted since I was three. And college isn't it.

Today is Mother's Day. My Facebook newsfeed has been filled with children wishing their moms a happy day, husband's praising their wife's mothering skills, and mother's rejoicing in their children. That's what I want. Because when these moms look back, they remember college fondly, but the best memories are of their husband and children. A friend on Facebook put it best, the three greatest events in my life, the ones I couldn't imagine life without - salvation, my marriage, my children.

So happy Mother's Day!! To my mom who rocks! To all the mothers who know their children are God's miracles! To the women who have no children of their own yet share their extra love with those who need it!

And to those who can't wait to be mothers saying "these are the best years of my life!"

Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: "Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all." Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

Keep on singing,