I am a self-professed Facebook snob. A Facebook snob who was on Facebook all last week. I “friended” about 20 people I knew before I turned 20. And now, this week, I am grieving my youth.
My non-youth is great. I have no regrets about big decisions I have made. I couldn’t have picked a husband better suited for me. I have two healthy bright, beautiful and fun daughters. I have challenging work in my field of study. I have good friends and my extended family nearby. But still,
I grieve my youth.
And I can’t figure out why.
It’s not that it was better then. Or happier then. But a handful of memories formed lumps in my throat this week.
Singing in my grandmothers’ chapel.
Pizza Hut after swing choir concerts.
A summer romance.
Singing at my home church over and over again.
College choir trip to NYC.
Hanging out in a good friend’s dorm room.
Dr. Seuss says “Don’t cry that it’s over; smile that it happened”. Nice thought. This week, the fact that it happened isn’t consoling me. You see, I am glad it happened. These things are what make for a good life lived. But today I can’t stomach the fact that they are gone. We must move on to experience better and richer things. I agree. But I don’t want to have to lose the good things from the past in order to experience the new.
I want to take them with me.
I want to talk to my grandparents. I want to tell them where I hurt; what I’m terrified of, and to know that just because they are in the room it’s all going to be ok.
I want to sing.
I want to sing in my hometown church, where the mic was always open and good encouragement kept flowing.
I chose my high school friends well; now we are scattered all over the country. I want to talk to the guy I found myself in serious like with one summer, because I don’t like that good friendships die just because we must “move on”. Sure, Facebook is great. But “re-connecting” on Facebook leaves a lot to still be missed. I grieve the loss of these relationships in real form.
And I grieve that I’m so far away from them in years. When I was 30, I didn’t grieve them. I was happy and engaged in building my non-youth life. That they were a loss never crossed my mind. There was a whole lifetime ahead of me to recapture and revive these things. Therefore, they really weren’t a loss.
But now
I’m 40.
I fear the reality that it is possible I will never recapture
these things. Now, they are a loss.
And this week, I really grieve them.
On Wednesday, I all but demanded of God that I understand why this is bothering me so much now. To understand why, in the middle of a good life, in the middle of February; these things are haunting me.
Perhaps it’s because everyone is down in the dumps about something in February.
Perhaps I haven’t been engaged in the things I like to do. It’s work, work, work.
Perhaps I need to see my “non-youth” friends more; maybe I’m isolated.
Perhaps next week, God will answer my prayer, and give me the grace it takes to get from
“Don’t cry that it’s over”
To
“Smile that it happened”. —- alg
Please sound off.
What do you miss about your youth?
How do you get from “Don’t cry that it’s over” to “Smile that it happened”?
My non-youth is great. I have no regrets about big decisions I have made. I couldn’t have picked a husband better suited for me. I have two healthy bright, beautiful and fun daughters. I have challenging work in my field of study. I have good friends and my extended family nearby. But still,
I grieve my youth.
And I can’t figure out why.
It’s not that it was better then. Or happier then. But a handful of memories formed lumps in my throat this week.
Singing in my grandmothers’ chapel.
Pizza Hut after swing choir concerts.
A summer romance.
Singing at my home church over and over again.
College choir trip to NYC.
Hanging out in a good friend’s dorm room.
Dr. Seuss says “Don’t cry that it’s over; smile that it happened”. Nice thought. This week, the fact that it happened isn’t consoling me. You see, I am glad it happened. These things are what make for a good life lived. But today I can’t stomach the fact that they are gone. We must move on to experience better and richer things. I agree. But I don’t want to have to lose the good things from the past in order to experience the new.
I want to take them with me.
I want to talk to my grandparents. I want to tell them where I hurt; what I’m terrified of, and to know that just because they are in the room it’s all going to be ok.
I want to sing.
I want to sing in my hometown church, where the mic was always open and good encouragement kept flowing.
I chose my high school friends well; now we are scattered all over the country. I want to talk to the guy I found myself in serious like with one summer, because I don’t like that good friendships die just because we must “move on”. Sure, Facebook is great. But “re-connecting” on Facebook leaves a lot to still be missed. I grieve the loss of these relationships in real form.
And I grieve that I’m so far away from them in years. When I was 30, I didn’t grieve them. I was happy and engaged in building my non-youth life. That they were a loss never crossed my mind. There was a whole lifetime ahead of me to recapture and revive these things. Therefore, they really weren’t a loss.
But now
I’m 40.
I fear the reality that it is possible I will never recapture
these things. Now, they are a loss.
And this week, I really grieve them.
On Wednesday, I all but demanded of God that I understand why this is bothering me so much now. To understand why, in the middle of a good life, in the middle of February; these things are haunting me.
Perhaps it’s because everyone is down in the dumps about something in February.
Perhaps I haven’t been engaged in the things I like to do. It’s work, work, work.
Perhaps I need to see my “non-youth” friends more; maybe I’m isolated.
Perhaps next week, God will answer my prayer, and give me the grace it takes to get from
“Don’t cry that it’s over”
To
“Smile that it happened”. —- alg
Please sound off.
What do you miss about your youth?
How do you get from “Don’t cry that it’s over” to “Smile that it happened”?
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