Grown Up & Glad

Artists, authors and armchair philosophers frequently celebrate the wonder, beauty and simplicity of being a child. We speak of the innocence and faith of childhood with sweet wistfulness. There are many times in my life that I long to recapture some of the idealism and lack of responsibility/worry that I possessed in my youth.

This afternoon, however, I couldn't help but think about the things I really like about being an adult. My thoughts were prompted by the afterglow from my husband's 40th birthday party last night. It was an intimate gathering of dear friends. Our incredible entertainment was provided by Drew & Ellie Holcomb. We had dinner, wine and easy conversation around the fire before settling into the sofas and chairs to enjoy great music by amazing artists. I am not exaggerating when I say it bordered on a holy experience as the women and men gathered laughed and cried while Drew & Ellie sang lyrics about life, love and loss. I am finally old enough to really understand what those lyrics mean.

One of the more poignant moments of the night came as they performed "Live Forever," the song used for the slide show at our friend Sweeney's funeral last Spring. On several occasions Sweeney sat on those same sofas for Young Life meetings and gatherings with friends. Last night Cabell was there physically, but the memories of Sweeney were too.

Other songs with lyrics about fear, loss, pain, love, commitment prompted me to think of our beloved friends in the room. These are the people we are 'doing life' with--I know their stories and they know ours. We can rejoice in each others' times of peace and plenty because we have walked through the fire of the times of loss, pain and want.

As I looked around at the women in that room I was so thankful for the gift of friendship. It is interesting to watch my children explore the first few chapters of friendship and compare that to what it looks like 30 years later. BFF looks quite different at 6, 16, 26 and 36. The bonds of years of shared life experience--the happy, but also the challenging, are so sacred and beautiful.

Towards the end of the evening, a group of us were talking about authenticity in relationships-- how once you have experienced it you don't want to go back. The older I get the less patient I find myself with trivial conversations about surface things. I want to go deep and discuss things that matter.

I could have never imagined as an adolescent that I would enjoy adulthood so much. It is certainly not simple--but the complexity, the depth, the richness of all those layers are are gifts for which I now find myself (surprisingly) grateful.