I haven’t lived a whole lot of life. I’ve only been here 24 years, a few months & some days. As teenagers look like babies to me, I know I look like a baby to older others.
When in a room full of 18-25 year olds, I feel 45. So much growing up has been packed into my short life that I can relate to the older others more than I can most 18-25 year olds. Growing up for me was, at age 3, knowing phone numbers of trusted loved ones I could call if I couldn’t wake my mom up because she took sleeping meds to knock herself out. Growing up was, at age 7, mentally gearing up to talk to the judge handling my parents’ divorce battle. (My dad told me there was a possibility I’d have to talk to the judge so he could hear more about my relationship with each parent. Surprisingly, my extremely shy self was more than ready to do so, had I been summoned.) Growing up was having a single dad who got the wrong type of Barbie for my 9th birthday & thinking, “Smile. Poor daddy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Keep smiling. I have to look like I love this, even though it’s the wrong one. Poor daddy.” Growing up was helping take care of my sister always, at every age.
Peter Pan is my absolute favorite Disney movie. I have always felt a connection to this fictitious forever-kid. His motto is, “Never grow up.” He spends his days carefree and in the air. There is a freedom associated with the ability to fly & it’s a freedom I crave.
Yes, I thought it was cool he could fly. Yes, I thought all the people groups represented were intriguing (Indians, Pirates, Mermaids, Fairies & the like). Yes, I wanted to spend time flying on cloud 9.
I coveted the ins and outs of Pan’s daily life.
The weight of the pain I have experienced is that of one of Captain Hook’s cannonballs tied to my ankles.
Sometimes it feels that way. In the early morning or the late of night. That’s when I feel the weight the most. The weight of loss, what never was, what should be, rejection, abandonment, neglect… The perfect recipe for disaster… the perfect recipe for the whispers of the enemy to take root in my heart… whispers of hopelessness, whispers of bitterness, whispers of revenge, whispers of hatred… The perfect recipe for redemption… for God’s everlasting love to sweep me off my feet… for God to work this for the good.
I sometimes very much want to escape this life.. this pain that feels unbearable. I want to fly out of here and never come back, but I know God has a higher calling on my life… He never promised an easy life here on earth, but His presence, love & salvation are promised. I know that He is going to use what I have gone through to bring glory to Himself.
I can be sure that this life I’m living right now, every breath, every tear, every stab of my heart, every deficiency has a purpose, as I know you too can be sure of.