Twenty-two is a weird feeling. Like driving a new car that you’re not quite familiar with, it will take some getting used to. I don’t feel as mature as the number suggests. I am sobered with the realization of time gone that I can never get back and a chapter of my life quickly closing. Unlike some of my peers who seem to have a solid grasp on adulthood already, I am still in the process. This has brought some interesting changes to my attention that I can only attribute to that process. It’s the odd sensation of both seeing the world through the eyes of a child and those of an adult.
When I was younger, I used to wonder why grownups were okay with going without food if the circumstances warranted, when all my little tummy could think about was that I HAD to eat as soon as possible lest I starve to a horrible death. These days I get engrossed in a project and lunch slips past, or I find myself rather hungry but quite able to wait until the situation is remedied.
I didn’t understand adults’ fascination with visiting childhood places and telling us the stories of their favorite memories, where they used to go and what they used to do. Sometimes it got a little boring. Now I find myself looking back at my own childhood warmly and treasuring those worn stuffed animal friends and funny little rocks I collected, recounting the days of when my brother and I reveled in creative imagination. I listen more closely when my parents tell their stories; now that I have my own, I understand why they mean so much and what an important part of us they are.
I used to see parents as only that – parents. They were always there and made the world ok and had the answers when you needed them. They made the rules and sometimes didn’t understand what it was like to be their child! In my self-absorption, I failed to realize how my actions and attitudes truly affected them and how deeply they loved me.
Now, I see how much the children around me have to learn and what oblivion they often live in, compared to the realizations of this thought process I find myself with. I see how much one does gain by merit of age and experience, small yet mine may be. As I form my own principles, I am armed with the desire to pass them on to my children yet nonexistent, because I want them to know what is good and right….the very desire my parents had for me.
Now, I see parents as individuals, as people with their own stories and life journeys, of which parenting is just a part of the picture. People who have hopes and dreams, disappointments and challenges. People who faced choices like I do and chose to follow God instead of the culture.
I used to think looks mattered more. Now I know that personality and heart is huge and the more you grow to appreciate and love someone, the more attractive they become to you and those “imperfections” no longer matter through the eyes of love. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” is not such a cliche expression as it seems. Which explains a lot about relationships that I never understood before.
I’ve learned to give myself the freedom to change my ideas and to admit that when it comes right down to it, I don’t know very much after all. (But my parents still do!)
The light is dawning on a new era for me, one that comes as silently as it does loudly. There is so much more that is still unclear, and though sometimes I long to understand, I now realize that only time and God’s mercy can tell you some things.
And it will. It already has.
