Little Girls

I wonder when (if?) that day will come when I finally feel "all growed up". Hah. When I finally feel like I'm not that 12 year old, awkward little girl wondering what to do with her hands and arms. Put them in pockets? Fold them? Straight by the sides? Who knows? (Wait, does it matter?)

So when will that day come. And what will it mean? What would it mean to be grown up.

When I think about it, to me, being grown up, I suppose, would mean being self sufficient, being well off, being capable. But then I think deeper. And I know that no matter how old I am I will never be these things. And if I try to, it's like forever playing dress up--acting like someone I'm not. Putting on a face. Putting on this fake life and the ones who "have it all figured out" (the secret, that is) just look at me, sadly, and laugh. Laugh as I twirl in my perfect adult dress. Laugh as I live in my perfect, well-to-do house. Laugh as I drive my perfect shiny car.
Because they'd know the secret. They'd know that I was naive in spirit. They'd know that I was playing dress-up. They'd know that no one, even them, are ever fully capable or self-sufficient. That the secret of being grown up, really, is just admitting that I don't know anything, that I have no absolute plans, that my Jesus knows everything. That the Lord has better plans for me than I could ever imagine.

Humble.

Open.

Vulnerable.

Finding wisdom in the Lord.

I will never be grown up in the way that, as I was a child, I thought grown ups should look. No one is grown up.

And as I'm going along in this process, I'm finding I'm redefining a lot of things I've come to know.