First Breath Crying: For All My Friends In Their Twenties...

“I want to get married so badly…”

I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop, procrastinating on finishing several papers.  I can’t help but overhear the conversation of two girls, probably 18 or 19, who are chatting over lattes. They share giggles over guys being “just the right height” and “having just a little stubble…” 

“…That’s so awkward…”

“I can’t believe…”

“That’s like, not a thing…”

“I just can’t wait for everything to happen already…”

Typical girl talk.  But I’m thinking back to my conversation with a close friend in the car last night.  We shared tears and frustration over our emerging adulthood, identity crisis, theology conflicts, and undeveloped dreams.  The questions surfaced—“What do I really want in life?  What does God want for my life?”  “I don’t know anymore...”

We are 22 and 23 respectively.  At this point, we are “supposed” to have our lives figured out.  We are supposed to know what we want, and where we are going.  We are halfway through an accelerated graduate program, and by all evident standards of young adulthood we are considered successful and ambitious, and aimed for a life of purpose and financial security.  We are early "career women", respected by society, and given the nod of approval from most every adult who asks the classic post-college inquiry: "what are YOU doing these days?" 

So why the crisis?

Maybe it’s because young adulthood is hard.  Maybe it’s supposed to be hard. 

My friend and I discussed what marriage would be like at this stage of life, and we realized that neither of us are ready to make a longtime commitment to anyone or anything.   Yes, we are lonely.  Yes, it would be lovely to go home to a warm embrace and comforting presence.  Someone to love and be loved by.  Someone to take those adorable engagement pictures with.  Twilight, mountaintop picnics, vintage rings and hipster shoes.  Darling pregnant bellies and beautiful babies.  Basically, all the things that fill a young adult’s Facebook newsfeed every day of the week. 
All the things. 

But I think a marriage is so much more than that.  It’s an alignment of dreams and callings. 

So we may be disillusioned, overworked, under-appreciated, emotionally challenged, confused in our relationships, and commitment-phobic. 

Is that all?

Nope.  We are in the midst of a very real identity crisis.  And I think that if you are a young adult, you might understand this state. 

Do you know yourself?  Do you know God?  Do you know your relationship to His plan? 

I don’t.  Not yet. 

I think young adulthood is a time for a series of small steps.  Of sustained, consistent faithfulness.  Of a few yes-es, and many no-s.  Of short-term decisions, and long-term prayers.  Searching for dreams, and praying for vision. 

I’m not against young love, marriage and early life planning.  If you are blessed to find your calling and the love of your life at 18, then I’m stoked for you.  That’s wonderful.  

But if you are in your early twenties and waiting for your life to begin, I think you should stop waiting.  Take small steps.  Look for your dreams. 

And if you are in your twenties and feeling lost, it’s okay.  According to my research, that’s fairly normal.  In fact, it might be a good thing.  

So many people burn out later in life, or go through traumatic mid-life crisis’s.  They hate their careers, and feel that their lives have been meaningless.  They are absent parents attached to troubled marriages. 

So many marriages end in divorce.  Children forgotten in the sea of adult responsibilities and issues. Mine will not be among them.

And that’s why I think it’s okay to struggle in young adulthood.  We are alone, we have no money, no careers, and few connections. No one needs us, no one is depending on our “performance” as a human.

What time in life could possibly be better for risks? Why not crisis? 

I’ve heard that babies need to struggle a little to take their first breath.  In the old days they would have given them a little spank to wake them up to the reality of life.  They take their first breath crying.  Life is hard, so the tears continue and they cry their lungs out for like, 6 months.  Good times.   

Young parents know what I'm talking about.  

Maybe that’s what young adulthood is.  Because, admit it.  Life at home is rather womb-like.  So is college to a certain extent.  Just like a newborn, the cycles of life have evicted us from our peaceful state.  Unlike the newborn, we aren't provided with two full-time nurturers to comfort us on our emergence.
 Our culture tells us to run from pain.   We are supposed to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and to surround ourselves with people who make us feel comfortable.  To only take risks that are safe.  To only love people who will love us back.  To only do things that make us happy. 

I don’t think that any of those things will prepare you for life.  At least not the “fullest” life that God desires for you.

I want to go overseas--serve orphans, feed villages. Speak prophetically.  Impact nations.
Change the world. You know. All the things, as my dear friend Meredith would say.  All the things.
But right now, God is calling me to get up in the mornings.  To make spending 15 minutes with Him in the mornings a priority.  To do my homework.  Manage my money (or lack thereof).   Learn to be healthy emotionally and physically.  Be on time.  Honor Him in my relationships.  Serve my 25 high school freshmen with love as I teach them every day.  Find a church where I can worship and love people.  Lead and love the 6 beautiful girls in my Bible study well.  Appreciate the natural beauty of this world.  These are seem like such small things to me.  But I seem to consistently struggle and feel stretched while attempting them.  Vision and passion are my strengths, faithfulness is not.  And God is using this season of my life to grow me, and let me grow up.  
If you are feeling out of place right now, maybe the same is true for you.  Let God have His way.  Let Him grow you, even if this season is not what you expected.

So with my limited and faulty wisdom, I'm going to suggest this: Young adults--don’t run from the pain. Don’t run from the struggle. Don't get comfortable too quickly, don't look for the "easy way out".  I might be crazy, but I think you need this season to grow and become a person that will fulfill the calling for which you were created. 

At the very least, don’t freak out if life seems hard and you feel like you have nothing figured out.

Welcome to the story of my life.  

After years of swearing avoidance, I committed the unthinkable.  I have created a blog.

 I would probably be considered something of a writer.  I recently (last week) graduated with my BA in English.  I often have alot of interesting harebrained ideas floating around inside my cranium.  And I talk continuously.  Consequently, various friends have attempted to persuade me to create a blog. Quite possibly the added pressure is because they are somewhat exhausted of my late night wine or coffee enabled rants, and desire another form of artistic "expression" for me. Or perhaps they honestly care about me and my future as a writer and believe there is some nugget of truth and value in the spectrum of our late night conversations.  Regardless of motivation, I'm now a reluctant 'blogger'.

I named my blog "As In A Mirror" after a passage in First Corinthians.  I believe the whole of writing and literature, at its best, is an attempt to look into the mirror--we see only a dim reflection of the depth, terror, and beauties of the eternal, but we must tell what we see.  Our Creator is the great artist.  Artists are communicators--we must share, connect, and communicate, or we fade.  Created in His image for His Glory, we seek to connect with and share our experience with those who share a common Maker.  We bring Him the most glory when we share the greatest perfection and attempt at connection--His Love, His Son, and His Sacrifice.  It is only through the Son that we come into relationship and communion with the Father.  Through His Sacrifice we are able to live richly despite pain and look to eternity without fear.
  I believe that our time on this Earth is a preparation for eternity.  Human experience, in all its beauty and agony, reveals our connection to and need for a power higher than our own.
All we now see is but a dim reflection of what is to come.