I’m guessing I was around 11 in this photo. That means my mom would have been 30, a year younger than I am now.
When I was young, I’d look at adults and think they had it all together. I imagined all their dreams had come true. I thought they didn’t care about drama. They were never jealous. The didn’t need to impress. They were just happy. They forgave and loved and everything was good…..
Big surprise. There is sometimes very little difference between 11 and 31. Twenty years of learning lessons and some things are the same.
I thought the day would come when all was settled. Maybe I was suppose to wake up one morning to find that I was suddenly a grown-up.
Just like a child, I am still hypersensitive and emotional. I need attention and validation too often. I still get bored with what I have and think I need more or something new.
Why is it that we hold on to these weaknesses and loose other attributes from childhood that would have been good to keep?
When I look at the above photo, I see a silly girl who is lost in the moment dancing with her sister. She is happy and carefree. Her laughter comes from within. She had a head full of dreams and a thousand ways to make them happen. Where does THAT go?
So, we grown-ups pretty much end up looking like this…………
We are full of stress because there are too many responsibilities. We are disappointed because our dreams didn’t come true. We compare and compete. We think we need more than is ever attainable. We are hypersensitive just like we were as children. We whine and fight. We sulk. (me on a bad day)
Where is our laughter and passion, our dreams for tomorrow and our love for one another? I think it’s hidden under a lot of junk!
Lets pull out our diamonds and polish them up a bit. God created us and gave us the keys to happiness and love. I’m committed to get to the place I dreamed of as a child.
Recently, I was in a local store shopping. A little girl and her father burst in the door and loudly chased each other to the back of the store, laughing the whole way. At first, the grumpy adult in me thought “What are they doing?” When I looked up, I saw the little girl had no hair from obvious chemotherapy treatments. I melted and thought how beautiful that picture was. It was a father embracing the moment with his daughter who he almost lost. He had her and that was all that mattered. If she wanted to run, he would run.
I don’t want to wait until something forces me to stop and breath and laugh. I’m letting go, at least for tonight. Then, tomorrow, when I forget, I’ll try again.