I seem to have misplaced my ten year old self and I want her back.
I think back to what I was like as a child and, in some ways, I haven’t changed a bit. I feel like a little kid living an adult’s life. But other times, I don’t even recognize who I’ve become. All of the luminous enthusiasm of my younger self and the insatiable appetite to be out in the world dissolved and diluted in the murky waters of day to day life.
I’ve thought about this a lot lately. Lately, I feel like a wild woman. What causes me to lose my cool and do or say things that are entirely unpolished? “Who is this woman?” I wonder. “What did she do with the young girl who wouldn’t dream of hurting someone’s feelings? The little girl who could effortlessly lift people up and, more importantly, knew how to zip it up if she had nothing nice to say?”
Maybe I lose my patience because I feel like I am under a tremendous amount of pressure from all directions. Even though I know this pressure is entirely self inflicted, I still struggle to get out from under it. If you want to witness something fascinating, let societal expectations creep into your thought process and all of the sudden you will find yourself boxed into imaginary do or die situations. Situations, that in reality, are only constructed out of the flimsy matter of deconstructive thoughts… and yet they can seem so damn strong. We have the ability to make them vanish into thin air with the snap of a finger, if only we can give our minds permission to let them go.
In contrast to this paradigm of pretend problems, my ten year old self would look at my current life with stars in her eyes. She would be filled with hope. She would recognize all the potential. Sure, she would see all the question marks and unknowns, yet have total faith that everything was going to work out in the most extraordinary way. She would see the unknowns as presents waiting to be opened, instead of dreams that may never come true. The ten year old doesn’t just believe she is special. She knows it through and through.
So, where did the unshakeable faith of my younger self scurry off to? My parents modeled love at every turn, towards each other and towards me. But no matter how idyllic your upbringing is, life happens. I can recall plenty of moments that chipped away at that faith, words that eroded my confidence, experiences that prompted me to keep just a little more distance and live with a little less zest. I can see why she is hiding, but I know in my heart she is still there.
I can’t speak for the boys, but I know women can sometimes be a bit harsh on themselves. Perfectionism is pure evil. We measure ourselves against unrealistic standards and punish ourselves when we make mistakes. We essentially beat ourselves up for being human. And if you are anything like me, you start to add your faults to an imaginary laundry list in the sky. A litany of things you’ve done wrong. An explanation for why you don’t deserve all that the ten year old knew she was destined for… and you take a step back. That’s where our adult selves go wrong. Instead of accepting and embracing mistakes as part of living, we oftentimes let our imperfections keep us from diving in full force and giving our all. We worry about what doesn’t matter and let it keep us from what does.
On Christmas morning, I sat down and watched President Bush’s funeral. A strange way to celebrate I know, but I’ve always found funerals to be oddly comforting. People from all around gather to tell stories of how a single person made a difference in the world. Although most people don’t shape the world to quite the extent of a former president, we all change the world with our everyday actions. Making a difference to even one person makes a life worth living, and that’s what is so easy to lose sight of. We get caught up in our own heads and in all the ways we are wrong, when in fact, we are exactly right. We are right where God wants us.
I think Mary Poppins said it best… “Some people think entirely too much. Of this I am certain.”
We live in such a strange time. So many of our interactions are virtual. Text messages and emails are sent instead of phone calls or face to face meetings. “Busy” is now worn as a badge of honor. Being someone’s friend is more of a status symbol than an actual relationship. Unfortunately, if we invest too much in this new reality, we are in danger of missing the boat. Human interaction reminds us that we all have struggles, victories, and moments of uncertainty and there is no greater honor than sharing those experiences with someone up close and personal. So why are we choosing to invest in virtual facades over the beauty of real living, even with the ups and downs that come along with that raw unedited human experience? The truth is, we need more messy living. It is real. It is genuine. It is human. Remind your inner child she is safe to come out again. Mistakes make life more interesting anyway.
Christmas is a time for miracles. Christ came to us as a completely dependent baby, and by doing so chose to fully participate in our human experience. No virtual living on His part. He dealt with misfits, problems, and countless unknowns. He chose to surround himself with people who made it shockingly clear that you do not need to be perfect to do God’s will. Choosing those people was not by mistake, but by design. No matter how much you muck it up, the value of your life is not diminished. You are still a priceless piece of the puzzle.
There will always be rough seas. Sometimes we will handle them like a champ with grace and dignity. Other times, we will lose ourselves in our frustrations and act like total wankers. But the beauty is that no matter how much damage is caused by the storm, we will always be forgiven. Most importantly, Christ made sure we will always have the freedom to begin again.