Boohoos and oldies.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Boohoos and oldies.

This train of thought started when my brother came up while I was having a late after-nap lunch. Kiwi kept yammering about salary and withdrawal and getting a license. The words rang in my ear: just yesterday, or was it a decade ago, we were fancying garden blow-up swimming pools and long Santa lists. We didn't know about these serious, grown up things yet.

I said "He sounds so old. Make him stop. He's so grown up. Make him shut up." I don't know, to no one in particular, I guess. A space shuttle of emotions have been flooding me every single day since I realized in Clearance week that--and I just realized now that this was exactly what I realized, though I'd been afraid and unknowing to put into words until now--I'm not a child anymore.

In the words of Tommy Pickles, I am a "growed-up" I have to make my own decisions. Of course, God decides for me, but I have to do this on my own. There's no Mama or Papa or family, it's just me and Him.

Faith is the substance of things hoped for: it is what dreams are made of. Not of glitter and pizazz, not of self-sufficiency. Not even of hard work. Not of money, fame, success, status. But the consistent holding on to nothing but the trust that he has a plan for me. I remind myself that everyday.

Things have changed:
-my parents trust me in every single way. :) Hooray for that.
-I know how to discipline myself.
-I know what I want, not because it's what charts and magazines say, but because...
-I have my own standards.
-there are people who look up to me. It's a humbling experience, but it's a responsibility as well.
-I cherish my memories, not as has-beens, but as my life.
-I actually know what sizes I am!
-I think more than I speak.
-I know what the one most Important Thing is in life, that even if other things fail, He is faithful and Just. Well, guess who.

The fact that I make such a big deal out of it, I think it still makes me a child. That, and the fact that I adore Mickey Mouse.

And the fact that makes me admit the fact that i make such a big deal out of it, I don't know. Does honesty mean maturity?

There's something in the way my parents take this that I admire. They have been letting us make our own decisions; sometimes surprised at how wise we've become, most of the time knowing I'd hear them say they trust the way they brought us up. I'm proud to show them how much I've learned, I'm proud to tell them they've been the biggest influences in my life. They watch us go, sometimes still show us the way, but they let us go on the journey by ourselves, wanting us to learn and become experienced. I wonder, won't they miss us? Won't they look for that unstoppable rascal and that sweet silent kid and see a man who's learned from his mistakes, and a girl who's changing into a woman? I've often heard them call me their baby, more times nowadays than they ever did before. They keep telling me everything they know about life, trying to get us to make the right decisions, and wanting the best for us. I've loved and trusted them for as long as I can remember. I can't even hold back my tears now, thinking they've done so much for us, and that they love us so truly they're willing to see us go for our own good. And that the day will come when we will go.

I'm proud to call them my parents. And they deserve their own blogpost, so I'll move on to another one and make it theirs. Vavavooooom.