It’s not what you think, but I meant what I said. So if, by the one millionth of a trillionth of a chance, that Mr. Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi ever does read this blog post, I love you, along with the other ISIS leaders. As a […]
Over the past several years I have come to realize that God creates within us divine instances of vulnerability for His purpose. A Divine Instance of Vulnerability is when a person is so consumed with the mightiness of God in a mere second of ultimate […]
So the thought has entered my head several times over the past couple of weeks and I don’t really know what to make of it.
I am getting older.
My friends and I discussed our thoughts and emotions behind abortion, the Chick fil a debate, the election, taxes, ROTH IRAs, school funding, student loans, wedding budgets, and all these other things. THIS IS WHAT OLD PEOPLE TALK ABOUT. I am discussing how to start my own business and how to get a book published and what agencies look for and if it is smarter to take out loans now and begin building my ROTH IRA or whatever. I discuss interest rates and losing weight. I talk about Paleo foods and heart rate and blood pressure. I talk about the shooting in Aurora and airline prices.
WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? I listen to adults talk about how quickly their children grow up. I am here to say that the children are FREAKING OUT about how quickly we grow up.
Why am I not discussing how cute Andrew looked in The Amazing Spider Man? Or watching Grey’s Anatomy re-runs? Or sitting and coloring in a coloring book with my little sister. HOW did this happen? Why am I WORRIED? Children don’t worry. I listen to Maren and Nicky argue about which wizard is the best on a specific video game and I simply envy it. They have no idea I am listening and they have no idea how jealous I am or what I would give to be that little again.
So today I sit. In the shocking realization that I am not little anymore. I have been waiting for this feeling probably since my 18th birthday. But today was the day that I cried because all I wanted to play outside with no shoes on. I don’t want to floss or take vitamins or research tax information. I want to eat cookies. LOTS of cookies. And milk. I want the kitchen to be a mess and let someone else deal with it. And more importantly I want to sing. I want to stand on the back porch with my arms open wide and just sing. I’ll sing anything my heart desires from One Direction to Jesus songs. Just let me sit, sing, and be carefree for one more day. Let me be little.