Monday Monday

So I turned 22 the other day. I usually enjoy birthdays, but this one was sort of macabre and mediocre all at once. For one thing, the terrible twos is sort of an anti-climactic milestone in one's life, especially when compared to the previous years and the implied maturity that comes when you turn 18 or 21. I suppose it's all downhill from here.

It was also a little odd to spend my birthday--a day my family and I like to make a big deal out of--in a van. I'm not saying this to complain about the lack of attention or anything, but I can't help but feel like maybe this is the beginning of the end. No more excuses. No more "Oh, I'll grow up when I turn eighteen." No more putting off the inevitable. In any case, this is definitely the end of the beginning.

I know what you're thinking. Twenty-two is by no means old. And I realize that. There is youth within me yet. There is life, there is learning to be done and love to be found. If the beginning is over, perhaps this is where the real adventure starts. The prelude has concluded and I turn the page.

 Let's see what will make a good chapter one. We need a conflict, a setting, and above all some good characters. The first two are easy and come naturally when you're trying to live life to the fullest. For some reason, life is loaded with conflict when you're trying to follow God. I suppose it has something to do with picking up a cross daily. I suppose it has something to with seeking first the kingdom. I'm saying this because I have realized that the first chapter will be hard, challenging, rich, and blessed. And no matter what valleys God writes into this story, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me, Oh God. I am in the middle of something beautiful and terribly broken, a tale of a prodigal generation. There is hope and heartbreak in the lives of a people missing and searching for their creator. This is my setting and my conflict, and the good Lord has blessed me beyond measure with the greatest cast of characters man could ask for. I know I take them for granted, but I have an all pro family. My parents and siblings have been world champions 22 years running in my book. I also haven't really appreciated my friends, and I actually feel like maybe God gave me friends that were meant for other people by mistake, because sometimes I have more than I know what to do with. I'm currently on the road, and the thing I am most thankful for is the people I meet along the way. People like Henry, the homeless man from Columbia, Missouri who just wanted a drink but got a coke, a smile, and a prayer instead. People like Chloe Lack, the nine-year-old who can play the guitar and pray the rain away. People like David, who sings like Freddy Mercury and plays soft songs about his wife and the beautiful mundane nuances of life and love, and yet can scream to hardcore music like he is a troubled, angsty teenager. It is people like this that I am blessed to know, and yet my heart hurts to know that we live in such a large world where we can make friends in places we will never be again. We were made for community, and so much movement makes it hard to stay connected. I miss my friends back home; in the church, in my community. There is a girl somewhere on the west coast that I miss.

I will be reunited with my family and friends soon, but I fear that I will be leaving other brothers and sisters behind. Maybe the fleeting time we share together is what makes these road companions so dear. Maybe knowing that our stories may not overlap again is what makes the tale so precious.