I've been thinking about what it means to be mature. Is there a magical moment when you know you have arrived? Does it include watching Mulan everyday with your baby girl?
When I look back at the people I thought were mature and refined, they didn't do things like read young adult literature and enjoy a good princess love story. They were serious in their endeavors and their book choices reflected the maturity of their lives. I on the other hand delight in reading "Sheila Ray's peppermint stick" or "A bad case of Stripes".
When I think about being mature, I certainly don't think about the number to text conversations I have with my girls and even one of their friends. I might be concerned and feel creepy about it, if I didn't love her like my own daughter, but still shouldn't I be setting the example of maturity and respectability not conversing with my thumbs.
Maturity is defined as: full development; perfected condition.
I am the farthest from this definition. I'm working to become the woman I want to be, but it is going to take more time and patience. Perhaps all this rambling comes from watching my children reach milestone after milestone. Their paths right now are set in neat little lines with achievements that we praise. My path at this point seems a little unclear.
Not because I don't know where I'm going or who I would like to become, but I'm looking for those markers that say look how far you've come, you are well on your way and I'm not sure I can see them anymore.
University: check (of course I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up so maybe that is only 1/2 a check until I officially finish)
Marriage: HUGE CHECK! (best decision ever)
Children: ANOTHER HUGE CHECK (of course my job with them is still not done. Best decision ever)
I am completely satisfied in the life I lead. I am blessed beyond measure. I run and play, tickle and tease, act like a teenager when we play cards at night, watch ridiculous vampire soap opera shows until the wee morning hours with my teenagers, look for ways to to snuggle with the babies, avoid the laundry until the stench is too much to bear, and hope that along the way I will reach maturity.
I hope that our lives will be filled with the saving moments that testify of a merciful Lord and Savior. I plead with the Lord to make my efforts enough. That despite my immaturity, He will provide that added strength when the homesickness is too much to bear, when the fear is overwhelming and you have to run upstairs and climb into mom and dad's bed. I pray that His spirit will touch their hearts when the doubts creep in or when life is imperfect and you wonder if you are enough.
It is in these moments that I feel His love envelop me. I feel His strength as tears stream down my face. I praise His name. He is my all. All glory be His, as I slow moved toward maturity.