Growing Till Tall: Musings

Last week marked my return from a truly epic two-week vacation in France. My re-entry has been imprinted by a realization that I have a deeper sense of myself, and the world that surrounds me after a time of cultural immersion. This summer is a summer of change, and of new opportunity, as I embark on a journey towards a fuller realization of my passions and giftings. As of this May, i've been out of college for as long as I was in it. Thus, at this stage of adulthood, I particularly feel the berth and weight of what has come before as well as that of what lies ahead.

In more ways than one, my experience of growing up feels a lot like the time-worn saga of French culture and heritage. Amidst its many joyous moments, France's history has been marked with thorns and bristles-outlandish emperors, social unrest, political upstage after political upstage. Its story serves as a reminder that the journey is not safe, but that it is good, deeply richly good.

A few weeks ago, I stood in the ruins of a civilization that once was, the city of Entremont. Located just outside of Aix-en-Provence, it is now a tourist site with little glitz or glamour, but a lot of character. My group's informal afternoon tour was drizzly, and we plodded through mud and stone-strewn grass to catch a glimpse of this once-bustling community that is now in ruins. It felt strange to walk over rubble-filled areas once inhabited by families, where dwellers once cooked food, made babies, and met with friends and neighbors. Its history reminded me of the passing and fragile nature of life. Deep within, I was stirred to make each moment count.

Growing till tall is not without its pains, but it is a momentous thing. As we grow older day by day, year by year, we learn that decisions don't often come easily and that often one path is chosen at the loss of others. We must, however, choose and decide. We must also make and do, if we are to be happy with the people we are and the mark that we leave upon the world. As we learn to walk for the first time, or to dance in tune with music, or to cut across the waves of an ocean atop a finely-shaped fiberglass mass, we step more fully into the people we were created to be. At first, we may fall quite a lot, or tumble into laughter, but over time we will develop a mastery of craft and concept that is both beautiful and good. Like the city of Entremont, though, we must remember that our handiwork and homes will one day fade into the dust of history. Ultimately, what will last is something deeper, richer, fuller; it is that which we most deeply aspire to and most inwardly crave. It is a sense in which our stories matter, not just for now but for all history, aye, all eternity. Leaning into adulthood, we realize this with ever-increasing clarity, and oh my soul continues to ache towards its conclusion.