Sunday was a great American holiday called “Father’s Day,” which we still celebrate in the Haley family. Though last year, I was able to go one way (to see Dad) and Eric went the other way (to visit with our kids) after church, this year, our car wasn’t in good enough condition to try that trick so I talked my dad into coming to Burrows, and some of our descendants also made the trip. It was a very fun four-generation party, complete with the three dads who could be there.
Here’s my dad, with me and Lisa:
In the meantime, we learned by comparing ourselves, that I have still not attained my dad’s height, but granddaughter Rori (13 next month) has exceeded mine. (Sigh.) Which of us is a “grownup”?
“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
~1 Cor. 13:11
The human adventure is a series of steps called “growing up.” It doesn’t happen overnight. It is a process.
Growing up doesn’t happen automatically …
When you’re successfully out of diapers
When you’ve learned to communicate in full sentences
When you’ve learned to ride a bike
When you’ve reached your full height
When you’ve earned your driver’s license
When you turn 18 … or 21 … or 30 … or …
When you’ve graduated from high school or college
When you’ve voted in an election
When you are accepted as a peer by an older relative.
When you’ve been joined to a spouse in marriage
When you’ve become a parent, or when you’ve performed the act that leads to parenthood
Growing up means that what I considered normal one day may not seem that way anymore, and my thinking has changed, because now I am taking a more mature and informed look at the situation at hand.
I’ve caught myself talking to a kid on the occasion of graduation from sixth grade: “Do you feel more grown up now?”
Or, “When you’re a grownup …,” I’ll say, “you won’t mind kissing your wife as much as you think.”
One of the milestones of growing up happened in fifth grade, when my mother asked me to ride my bike from the trailer court in Sgt. Bluff, Iowa all the way to commissary at Sioux City Air Base, to buy and bring home a loaf of bread.
There had been another time earlier, when we lived in California, when she had asked me as a third grader, to take a large bill to the store and buy something for her, but on the way, some big kids robbed me of the cash (probably a dollar) and sent me home crying. It was humiliating to come home with nothing, but Mom was sympathetic.
This time, armed with the money and riding my trusty steed, I pedaled as fast as I could, and came home with the loaf of bread in my basket, feeling like I had just “bagged” it. I’m pretty sure my mother had watched from afar, as I made my way there and back again. By then, I’m sure she knew she could trust me with so much money, but she may have feared for my safety on the little county road, all alone.
For my part, I felt “responsible” because I had carried out a big responsibility for the first time ever.
My Uncle Sam, now in his late 80s, told me that after his wife died, he learned even more about responsibility. He learned that if he threw something on the floor, he was the only one who could pick it up. If he didn’t pick it up now, he would just pick it up later. It was logical, practical thinking. Maturity was picking it up and throwing it away now.
Concerning chores at our house, Eric had a trick he used. He would start with the kid who always objected that they got all the worst jobs, and it would go something like this:
Eric: “Would you like to dump the trash cans?”
Kid 1: “I HATE dumping the trash. I always get the worst jobs!”
Eric: “Okay, I’ll give that job to Kid 2. So here’s the other job that I was going to have her do. You can do it instead, since the first job was so hard. I want you to scrub the bathtub.”
That was the “Do all things without grumbling and complaining” lesson, and eventually “Kid 1” caught on.
In the end, all the jobs had to be done, and the sooner the kids learned that, the better. Postponing the work, for instance when it has been divided up just before the arrival of holiday guests, means that everybody has to rush around at the very last minute, or ask the guests on the couch to lift their feet while you vacuum under them.
Eventually, there is a turning point, though the turn may not seem abrupt, where you “turn into your mom” (or your dad) and it really matters whether the house is clean before the guests arrive. When you blush to think another human may notice the carcass of the bird who died after suffocating in the pile of your dirty clothes … you have turned the corner.
Kids are me-centered. They do not naturally share their toys, give away part of their cake, or give up a seat on the bus to a stranger, because doing so will make them uncomfortable. They must be taught to make such sacrifices.
So what does it mean when I “put away” childish things? Does it mean I might someday have to get rid of my teddy bear collection or my Nerf guns? (Yes, I really do have those!) Will I have to give up my joy in making snowmen? Well, no, I certainly hope not! As a grandma, “Peek-a-Boo” is as delightful as it ever was as a child. Even the Apostle Paul, as mature as he was, delighted in calling the Heavenly Father “Abba,” or “Daddy.”
No, we must not lose that inner youth, even if our outsides begin to wear out, for when we do, we will take on the spirit of Scrooge, which is not a pleasant prospect. Rather, growing up happens when we come to the realization that life is hard, but God is good, and we choose to put our childish self-centeredness on the chopping block.
Growing up didn’t automatically happen when I successfully graduated out of diapers, but can I control myself and my natural impulses? Or will I always need outside help telling me what to do, when not to spend money I don’t have, when to walk away from a hill I don’t want to die on?
I’m not necessarily a grownup because I’ve learned to communicate in full sentences, but can I communicate God’s love to others and control my tongue?
When I learn to ride a bike, I’m not necessarily mature. The important point is can I keep my balance in a world where everything and everybody seems to want to knock me down?
Getting taller doesn’t make me a grownup, but have I stopped foolishly comparing myself to others yet? Okay, yes, I just did that with my dad and Rori, but there are many other things I cannot control about myself besides my height. Can I be content with the way God made me? I also must remember that I can’t control my height, but I can control my weight. There I am, again, back to self-control!
Maturity is not attained when I’ve earned my driver’s license or a diploma, any more than obtaining a brain in the form of a degree helped the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. These are milestones, but what will I do with them, now that I have them? Am I mature enough to control my speed? Will I waste my life after that education, or spend it wisely?
When you become a husband, a wife, a father, or a mother, that is good. Often, marriage is that impetus which shows us that we still have a long way to go, and which works a change for the better within us. Likewise, parenthood is a strong catalyst for change. When you have become a spouse or a parent, running away from the responsibilities inherent with the job shows that maturity is still out of sight. But it is not unattainable.
There is a certain age, a brief time, thankfully, where we are unsure of ourselves. On the one hand, it is much more fun to play with Barbie's than to talk politics. But at the same time, we want to stand in the middle of a room and cry out, “HEY, I’M AN ADULT NOW! TAKE ME SERIOUSLY.” That actually never works. I think the age people do start to take you seriously is somewhere around 40, so be patient. And rushing things, like trying out privileges that should only happen between a husband and wife, only complicates your life. You do not attain adulthood then. You only prove your immaturity.
There is no magic age whereby we can say that we are grown up. All age requirements in statutory law, such as 18 to vote, mandatory education till age 16, 21 to smoke or drink, are arbitrary. You are not “mature enough to smoke” by that time. In fact, I would say you are more mature if you reach that age and declare that it is not going to be something you’ll even try.
The Democrats are working to change the voting age to 16, flattering high schoolers by saying they are mature enough to make decisions of national import. But many of them have not even taken Civics by then and have no interest in anything political. And what they may have learned in Civics is still counterbalanced by a lack of life experience, to be able to make mature, informed judgments, not to mention the current leftist ideology called Critical Race Theory that has taken society by storm. Grown up? Maybe they’ve learned to pass tests, but have they learned to do what is right?
Growing up surprisingly comes that day when we realize that politicians are really just people. They won’t always do what’s right when faced with a tough decision – they may be corrupt. The winning, engaging smile may not be a window into their soul, but only a false front. And when they give in to bribery or extortion and vote for something evil, there’s still something you can do. You can resolve that the battle will never be over and lost. While you still have life and breath, you will fight valiantly to see justice done.
Growing up happens when we forget our childish philosophy of “I don’t like … ,” where all members of a particular set, for instance, vegetables, soups, chicken, food that is green, or people who are black or white, are disliked without even trying them.
Growing up happens that day when we forget that we had the philosophy that “all people are mean to me,” and realize that it is a privilege to love people, serve people, and even, as so many of our brave soldiers have done, to die for people if called upon to do so.
In short, you may catch yourself being mature someday … but we’re all still working on it. Like everybody around me, at age 64, I’m still learning, still changing my mind about things, still taking steps towards maturity, and still in the process of growing up.
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