The Problem With Growing Up

Remember the days when your imagination ran wild and the world was filled with colors and sounds and smells? Remember how great recess was? It was the highlight of your day…and your entire day somehow centered around those 30 glorious minutes when you could let your mind and body run free. Remember how easy it was to create a masterpiece, or pretend to be someone fabulous, or imagine you were in some exotic location? Remember? If you give it a try, it really doesn’t take much to make your way back to the time when you were young and innocent and carefree.

Isn’t it odd that we spend the first half of our lives striving to be older than we really are, and the other half longing for the days of our youth? It seems that somewhere along the way, we wake up and realize that “Life Happens”…and we wonder where the time has gone, how on earth we got to this place, and why we struggle to feel passionate or inspired about anything.

So what really IS the problem with growing up? Why DO we find ourselves stuck in such a life-tapping rut? The bottom-line answer is just two little words, but their impact on our lives can be undeniably life changing: we forget. Sounds overly simple, doesn’t it? But this kind of forgetting isn’t like forgetting the dry cleaning or forgetting to floss or forgetting your mother’s birthday. This strain is much more subtle and sinister…and it infects us slowly over time. Forgetting is a destructive force that can wreck havoc on our truest selves, and inevitably it leaves us drained, exhausted, burned out, shut down…and eventually dead inside.

Obviously, the bigger question here isn’t WHY do we forget…it’s WHAT do we forget?

1. We forget who we are. We let our careers, our children and our responsibilities…the things we DO…define us. Who you ARE is simply not a title or job description. Who you are is the ‘You’ you take to bed at night…and the same one you wake up to in the morning…regardless of who else is in your bed or in your house or in the company you work for. One of my favorite word pictures in Scripture puts it like this: “it’s like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.” We have forgotten what we look like. We have forgotten how God sees us. We have forgotten who we are…at the core…with everything else stripped away.
2. We forget what we love. In mentoring creative people, I’m often surprised at how detached they’ve become from their childhood delights…the things that brought them the purest sense of joy. We all, no matter what our upbringing, LOVE certain things. It’s inherent in all of us…and if we give ourselves permission for one short moment…the memories will start to rush in like a flood: A particular flavor of ice cream. A song on the radio. A smell that drifts through the air. A place to escape to. A car to escape in. A time of the year. A part of the country. A game or silly tradition. A best friend’s sense of humor. A secret ambition. A daring dream. You see, what you love is an extremely powerful part of who you are…a huge part of what makes you uniquely YOU. It was intended to bring depth and color and vibrancy to our lives, but instead, most of us have let it be systematically crowded out by the things that everyone else loves. Oooh, did I just say that?! Yep…and I meant it. Plain and simple: we’ve forgotten what we love. We’ve forgotten what brings us joy…what lights us up…what makes us giggle, and wiggle, and dance. We’ve forgotten life’s simplest delights…the things that make us feel like a kid again. And in return, we’ve grown up way too fast.
3. We forget why we’re here. Purpose is a multi-million dollar topic these days, so I’m not going to try to gloss over it in a few short sentences. But ultimately, I think one of the most vital elements of living a life filled with purpose is this: connectivity. Being connected to why we’re here. The truth is, very few of us know for sure. Many of us don’t have a clue. And for those of us who think we’ve got even an inkling of an idea: the final answer will most likely come as a complete surprise! So, whether you’ve figured it all out or not, is not the challenge. The challenge is to connect to the truth that we all were created with a Divine Plan in mind. We all were given a unique voice, intended to make a unique impact on the world around us. With unwavering courage and belief, we need to embrace the realization that without each of us, the world would be forever altered–and a far less beautiful and special place.
4. We forget when it mattered. Forgotten things tend to be shoved in the closet. It’s that “out of sight, out of mind” thing. If we hide them, then we’re not responsible for them. The problem with closet-stuffing is, the stuff doesn’t go away. It just builds up. And if you’ve seen some people’s closets, you’ll know that you can barely get the door to close! Some people have been closet stuffing for years…some for an entire lifetime. Always waiting for a convenient time to drag it out into the light, dust it off, and by some miracle, breathe life back into it. Waiting for permission. Waiting for more capacity. Waiting for a season of lighter responsibilities, less commitments, fewer distractions. Waiting for a day that rarely ever comes. A play-write friend of mine put it this way, “It’s like breathing. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is to write…and when I go to bed at night, I can’t sleep until I’ve put at least a few words down on the page.” For him, it matters. It challenged me to the core…because I’d never had that kind of hunger to pursue what I love. I lacked the fortitude. I lacked the perseverance. I lacked the tenacity. I had de-emphasized it, un-prioritized it…and stripped it of it’s significance…it’s importance. But once I allowed myself the personal indulgence of re-visiting it, I realized it DID matter. It mattered an awful lot! It had mattered all these years. I’d just simply forgotten to LET it matter.
5. We forget where we put it. For many of us, it’s kind of like the dog that loves to bury bones. Oh, he loves bones for sure! The only problem is, that once he’s done digging that hole and filling it back up he forgets WHERE he buried it. And that thing that he loves more than anything in the world is laid to waste under inches of dirt. It could be a dream. It could be an invention. It could be a new expression of creativity…or problem solving…or a sense of life’s destiny. But all too often, and for really honorable reasons, we bury life’s greatest treasures in the back yard…and we forget where we’ve put them. Sometimes it’s under a big ‘ole pile of responsibility. Sometimes it’s hidden in the pit of doubt and unbelief. More times than we’d probably like to admit, it’s lost in the grown up weeds of neglect. The good news is this: what seems like an insurmountable task is really quite simple. Just dig it up. It doesn’t matter what you use to do the digging. Just dig. Don’t stress about the poor condition you’re bound to find it in. Give yourself some much-needed grace. It’s weathered the elements, no doubt, but it’s hearty and it’s endured. It hasn’t gone anywhere. You haven’t lost it forever. All it needs is a little dusting off, some TLC, a little bit of quality time…and it’ll be good as new! Best thing is, so will you!
6. We forget how to play. Crazy isn’t it? We’ve gotten so good at doing the responsible thing, the right thing, the reasonable thing…that we’ve forgotten to do the things that make it all worth it in the end. Take a look at your basic local playground. Simply drive by with a kid in your car and they will be PLEADING for you to stop and let them out to play! Funny thing is, I don’t know a single parent in the world that has to send their kids to laughing lessons…or to pretend practice…or to wonder workshops. It’s already built in! It comes with the package! It’s God designed! And they instinctively recognize an opportunity to exercise their God-given gift when they see one! However, as adults, we’ve systematically desensitized. We’ve gone numb. We’ve let the weighty cares of life cloud our vision. We’ve let the light inside of us burn out, and we’ve done nothing to replace the bulb. This fix is an easy one…and you might just have some fun, too! Give yourself the permission to take some time to play. Play solitaire on your computer. Play a round of putt-putt golf. Play checkers with your kids…or Yahtzee or Clue. Play Hide and Seek. Play the guitar you haven’t touched since college. Play Hop Scotch. Play Marbles or Backgammon or Mystery Date. Or better yet…Play Hookie! Chase something. Ride on something. Swing from something. Laugh at something. You’ll be amazed at just how young it makes you feel! Years of aging will fall off of your face and the huge sandbags of responsibility you’ve been carrying around on your shoulders won’t seem to be nearly as heavy as they’ve always been. The world will be a much less gruesome place to live in, and you might even enjoy your job more…and your wife more…and your kids more…and your life more. If you’re going to be here on earth for a while longer, don’t you think it’s worth enjoying it while you’re here?!?!

You see, none of these things that we’ve forgotten about take incredible amounts of time, energy or resources to fulfill. It’s simply a practice…an intentional practice of remembering. It costs you nothing. Nada. Niente. But the pay off is immeasurable. The portfolio dividends are record-breaking. No bank vault in the world is big enough to hold its benefits. Wall Street couldn’t begin to calculate its’ return on investment ratios.

Remembering who you are, what you love, why you’re here, when it mattered, where you put it and how to play can transform your dull and ordinary life into something wonderful and colorful and grand. It can weather any social issue, governmental transition or economic decline. It can turn the absolutely forgettable into undeniably memorable. It can keep us from growing older…and help us to grow richer, wiser, deeper, affective…and much more fulfilled.

If there is just one thing that I want you to remember from all that you’ve read here today, it would be this: Remember to remember…and don’t you ever forget!

One Block From Home

Just over two years ago, my dad was killed in a tragic accident. The news is never easy to take, regardless of the circumstances…and it’s an even harder thing to wrap your heart around when it comes from out of no where, unexpectedly altering life as you’ve always known it.

It’s the weirdest feeling…that initial mourning that doubles you over in grief, and the numbness that follows. It’s as if you’re invisible and everything around you is moving in slow motion. At some point when crises arise, I always seem to move into survivor mode, orchestrating events and details, serving as the sounding board…the shoulder to cry on…the strength that holds together and supports. The down-side to this kind of inner wiring is that I know full well that sometime after the chaos ensues, I will have my own personal reckoning with those things that I filed into the “I’ll deal with that when I have the capacity” drawer. Sometime after the duties have been handled and friends and family have been consoled, I’ll open up that drawer and allow my heart to rifle through the memories and stories and details…feeling the painful gravity of each and every one.

So it was with the death of my dad. Most of that week shared with my family in the aftermath of the terrible news is but a hazy blur in my memory. But true to form, once my husband and I arrived back home, the floodgates opened up and it all came rushing back as if it had all just happened…as if I was still back in my hometown hearing the sordid details for the first time. I was told way too much…too much for a heart like mine, anyway. And even now, though I’ve processed my way through the grief and loss, there are images that remain that I just can’t seem to shake. I won’t share most of them with you, they’re just too horrific. But there is one haunting thought that hangs on me that’s worth sharing.

You see, the story goes like this: My dad was simply on his nightly walk. He’s taken that nightly walk since I was just a wee kid. He chose the nighttime because it was cooler in the summer…allowing him to maintain a year-round schedule. He would mark out the mileage of different routes, and change them up every so often for interest, but for the most part he was a creature of habit and would walk the same route for months at a time. It became a well-known mainstay in town that night after night around 10 pm, you could see my dad walking through the surrounding neighborhoods and industrial areas adjacent to where he lived.

I’ve often wondered if he felt something different hanging in the air that night as he bent over to lace up his sneakers…if he sensed anything unusual or off center as he walked down his front steps into the darkness of night…if he wrestled within himself about even taking his walk that night. Or whether it was just another night like every other night before, routine in nature…not even registering on the radar of unusual. So we’re told, like clockwork he rounded the last corner at around 10:25, probably feeling the refreshing that comes from knowing he was well within reach of his goal. I can only imagine that his step quickened as one more block was conquered, one more marker was passed. He’d made this trip thousands of times before, and if I’m anything at all like him, it was his favorite part of the journey. The home stretch before him…steps and heart feeling a bit lighter because of the worries and cares that had been lain down on the miles that trailed behind.

One block from home, and the sweetness of victory laced his lips where the saltiness of sweat used to be. One block from home, and the street where he lived was in full view, and home was just within sight. One block from home, and perhaps in his mind he was already making his way back up the front steps, in through the front door and into the glow of his living room, where all of his familiar things would greet him. It’s such a haunting thought, isn’t it: he was just one block from home when his life ended. He had almost made it. He was almost there…wrapped in the arms of safety once again. He had almost found his way back home…almost.

But speculation has it that as he emerged from the thick darkness that had been such a comfort and ally to him over the years past, his vision was distorted by the bright lights that filled the intersection, and he walked directly into the path of an oncoming car. A car that had just been bombed with an onslaught of water balloons…water balloons thrown by some kids just having a bit of reckless fun. No one is really to blame, in the end. No one bears the full weight of responsibility. Yet each and every party involved was connected to a series of events that would change all of their lives forever.

Although the story is sad, at best…and really quite tragic, there is always a lesson to be learned from the ones who go before us. And what echoes in my heart is this: Beware of the bright lights of change that can blind you to oncoming traffic and rob you of the goal that’s just within your reach. In stepping out of the comfortable and the familiar, shake off the lethargy of the routine. Anticipate the change…prepare yourself for the emotional distortion that it can bring. Walk in complete awareness of the things that move around you…especially the ones that have the power to “take you out”. Maneuver your way safely around the obstacles in your way…and never lose sight of your destination. You’ve put in the hard work, you’ve invested the “sweat equity”, you’ve silenced the inner voices that plead with you to quit, and you’ve rounded that last corner.

So whatever your dream is…whatever purpose your life is meant to serve…whatever your unique vision or ultimate life goal might be, don’t let yourself be taken out…especially when many of you are only one block from home.