All grown up now
May 15th, 2009
Tonight, as I brushed my teeth and walked around the house to close up for the night, something a student told me last week at Chapter Camp took hold of me: I am a grown up.
This sank in because I had just left the bedroom where my wife slept in our bed (not the cheap college mattress, mind you, but a real bed with a frame underneath it) in front of our TV (not the 15″ one you inherit from your old roommate, but a real brand new TV). I was looking down at the full-sized bathroom that I share with my wife (not my roommates), at my hands complete with wedding band, and thinking about the house we’re hoping to rent for next year.
As I wandered out into the living room to check the thermostat, I thought about the electric bills I care for, the health insurance documents on the kitchen counter, and the cars we have to keep in repair.
Somewhere between the bathroom and the living room it kicked me in the gut: I am an adult. I am a grown man. I am 24 years old, have a facial piercing, and on most days I wear Nike sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt, so you could most certainly call me an immature adult. But let’s face it: I have a wife, a job, a car, and we have our own place, furniture, and plans. I am, in the ways it is recognized and quantified in American society (or at least in my head back when I was a young pup), a grown-up.
You know what? It doesn’t feel as different as I had expected. I like it, that’s for sure. But I don’t feel much different than 5-year old Matt. I’m even beginning to lean a little toward Matthew, my childhood name.
The reason I put the qualifiers in front of “a grown-up” is that I’m not entirely sure that any of these accomplishments are necessarily tied to my spiritual growth and maturity. It’s interesting to claim myself a grown-up and yet feel so childlike so often. I hope that some aspect of that childlike nature will never go away, but I really do wonder if at some point I’ll feel more grown up. What does it take? A mortgage? Kids, perhaps? I already have a grey hair, for whatever that’s worth.
Praise the Lord for doing what he has in me to bring me to the point where I can love and respect my wife without too often falling into self-centered tantrums. Praise him for parents who taught me responsibility early on to help me survive moving halfway across the country for school. Praise him for a fellowship that nurtured and encouraged me to grow up in the way I look at people different from me. Praise him for my partner in this new part of my life.
May 15th, 2009 at 12:13 am
A point I originally intended to make, but completely forgot, was that these American definitions of grown-upedness preclude almost the entire developing world from ever being “grown-up.” Put that in your smoke and pipe it.
May 15th, 2009 at 12:30 am
What I found fascinating as I read your article is how, when it comes down to it, the world is one big ol’ village. I mean here I am – 29 years old, living halfway across the world from you in South Africa and after a long work week I get woken up by my son, he jumps into our bed & the thought expressed above occurs to me
With regard to your comment, suffice it to say – the few opportunities I’ve had to travel (to both “developing” & developed countries) have made the sentiment I began my comment with all the more relevant. That is to say, despite the cultural differences I encountered visiting different countries, when it came down to the human experience – we’re all fundamentally the same.
May 15th, 2009 at 9:34 am
if my experience is normative then you probably will still not feel like you thought grown-ups will feel eight years from now.