Real Grown Ups

When do the real grownups arrive?

She said it jokingly as she processed experiences that felt too big for her and her husband.

Deep within my soul, I felt an overwhelming YES!

That was the feeling.

How and when did life get so complicated that it felt unmanageable?

How did I continue blowing out birthday candles year by year,

Progressively gain wrinkled skin and gray hairs,

And yet, I felt more like the 5-year-old tucked away in my heart.

My face says adult.

Everything internally screams, let me be little.


As I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room.

I woke up almost 2 weeks ago to water flooding my house.

I bought this house less than a year ago, and it feels highly unfair that this is my welcome to homeownership.  Especially given the road it took just to get there.

I worked so hard—I planned, saved, evaluated at every turn. 

I learned how to choose.

I learned how to be patient.

And I learned how to leap.

And now…

All the furniture I saved to buy sits in a storage.

The little quirks of my house that I loved have been ripped up/removed.

And I am living like the wanderer I was trying to escape being. 

I had finally established a root—my home.  It was a place I made my own—a place that looked like me—smelled like me.  A place I could rest. 

And it was a place where I could host.  I could invite people in and encourage them to stay a little longer.

Now, I am wandering yet again, and feel a little homeless.

The first night in the hotel, I couldn’t escape the dewy sensation of a moist room—was it my brain playing tricks on me…or was my room damp? 

Not a great feeling when you just woke up to your house flooding.

The second night in the hotel, I tossed and turned with every sound that was odd.  Was someone in my room?  Was someone outside my 2-story window? 

Felt like it. 

I had somehow regressed to my 5-year-old self–afraid of the boogie monster that might be under this foreign bed.

I have never felt more alone or more fragile.

I would wake up and put my feet to the ground and try to be the worker bee I was able to be in a home that nourished me…

But how do I do that here?

I am daily learning the strengths and limitations of the things I thought were secure…

I am daily learning the strengths and limitations of me. 

2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

I have built my life around strength. 

I have worked hard for so long to be competent—capable—sturdy. 

My body, my mind, my emotions rebel against the strength I believe I am supposed to have.

As year after year, decade after decade passes me, it feels like I am supposed to be getting stronger.

But as I read this verse, maybe God delights in my cry to let me be little

When I am embarrassed in what I cannot seem to handle as fluidly as I want…

Maybe He delights in it. 

I don’t believe He delights in my pain.  I don’t believe He is happy about my circumstances.  But I do think perhaps He likes that I am learning to cry out to Him.  Learning how to hold His hand.

 I’m learning how to lean into the community He has surrounded me with. 

I am learning that being tough isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be—and I’m quite terrible at pretending to be feisty. 

I’m actually quite tender.

We know God delights in kids.

Matthew 19:14 Jesus told His disciples to “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”

He delights in their smallness.

He delights in their innocence.

He delights in their desire to come close.

He delights in their need for Him.

He rebukes those who try to get in their way of approaching Him.

And He says that there is something bigger coming for those who are like this.

The dependent, helpless, fragile little ones get to become kings and queens.

So, as I wander…

As I feel homeless…

As I feel desperate and needy,

Maybe I am becoming the real grown-up I was always supposed to be.

Scared and shaking.


Asking lots of questions….


Are we there yet?

More kid-like by the day.

And leaning into the only true grown up who ever existed.

Praise Him—we are off the hook.

We were built to be little. 

We were built for Him.

And He is oh-so-sturdy.

Most stable place to be is my hand in His–my feet dancing on His.

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