"...just when you were becoming interesting!"

Growing up takes time, of course, but there are certain events that mark significant transitions in this maturing process. I'm sure that the further we move from the recent Higher Things Conference, the more we will recognize this as one of those events for Alena.

It all happened rather by accident. She's not really quite of the standard age for attending. But one youth member had to back out of the conference after registering, and, because there was a no refund policy, a replacement had to be found. I suppose there are others, a little older than Alena, that could have gone, but she was suggested by a couple people, and then practically begged for by another, so I could hardly say no. Thanks are due, by the way, to one female chaperon who offered to keep a special eye on her throughout the conference. That made the whole decision and the subsequent enjoying of the conference must easier.

So, for the first time in her life, and for a few days, Alena was basically on her own. Not that she was alone, of course, but she was largely responsible for her own decisions. She ate what she wanted, attended the sessions she wanted, and interacted with the people that she wanted to. (Apparently she couldn't sleep in as late as she wanted though; Karen had her up every day to be one of the first at breakfast :). ) There were other young people to help her and advise her, but that, more than anything strikes me as part of what it means to grow up: to engage with others who are peers, learn to do good and worthy things, and then actually to carry them out.

She appreciated all her sessions and seemed to follow them well. She took notes, and has been thinking about things she learned. She claims to have had the most fun of any child on the trip, and the ear-to-ear grin she wore every time that I saw her during the week supports that claim. She asked questions, met new people, both youth and adults, played games, and sang in the choir. You can also see it in the way she relates to her mother now that she's home again. They talk and converse about ideas; they share advice; she takes on greater responsibility each day.

So, just like that, the girl is becoming a woman. Of course she will mature much more in coming years, but I don't think it's incorrect to see this as a turning point. It also doesn't mean that I expect to burden her with the anxieties of adulthood. That's the joyless part that I'll keep from her as long as I can, without a bit of regret. But she is at the age where she still has the young spirit, with a mind that is beginning to think about ideas, consequences, meaning, and deep friendship. This is the fun age; the beginning of the best age, perhaps.

There is an ironic and perhaps melancholy line in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," where Indiana and Henry are discussing the relationship they had when Indiana was a child. Finally, Henry declares abruptly, "You left just when you were becoming interesting!"

Thankfully, it looks like it will still be a number of years before Alena leaves.

What To Do When There's No Wireless

I don't think I'd ever played Red Rover in my life until yesterday.

We're wandering around Calvin College during conference free time. The campus is beautiful--almost wooded--with wandering paths and many grass fields and small patios for taking a break from walking. But there isn't a centrally located area where everyone can congregate, hang out, and look for people they know. So unless you have a plan already before free time begins, you're left wandering around with a couple people, wondering if you should swim, karaoke, or try to go off campus for a while.

So I'm wandering around campus with three youth, and we stumble upon a group of kids playing Red Rover. Nat is known by one of them, so we get invited to play. Needless to say, the game is very different when young adults are playing. Matthew, the smallest person playing, gets called over as soon as we join up, comes leaping into my arm and the guy's next to me, flips over our arms and lands on his head. "Is your back OK?" "My back's fine; it's my neck that hurts." I guess that's why we fill out the medical releases. ("Don't worry," Karin, he seems to be fine this morning. He can still move all his limbs.)

Over the next 30 minutes or so, young ladies are getting clotheslined, everyone's getting abrasions on their arms, and large young men are barreling others over. At one point the other team was down to five people, but we kept asking passersby to join us, so the teams just kept getting bigger and bigger. I think at is largest our team had about 50-60 people on it.

This reminds me of the other game I've been playing recently, "British Bulldog," a game I hadn't played since I was a boy. After church many Sundays we kids would gather on the open field and play: one kid in the middle, the others on one side of the field. After the guy in the middle yells "British Bulldog," the others run across the field, trying to reach the other side without being tackled by the one in the middle. When tackled, you join the "bulldog" in the middle, till there are none left.

I had not seen this game played nor heard of it since I was about 11, till just a couple weeks ago, when the kids at our church now are playing it. "British Bulldog!" I exclaim, immediately joining in. Thankfully, I'm bigger than everyone else, so I don't get hit too hard.

People try to put us down...

I am a kid at heart. By this, I don't mean that I embrace or try to follow the fads of the youth culture. I don't think it means, necessarily, that I am immature. It means something along the lines of having a free spirit and not being anxious about things.

I like to live in the moment, enjoy myself, and seek fulfillment in things that I do. I don't worry about the future, nor do I think age and responsibility require me to give up these characteristics. And I think this is a good thing.

In many ways, my teen years were the best years of my life. I actually liked high school. It was not an awkward, fearful time of trying to fit in. I did my thing, had my friends, and enjoyed myself. Some people didn't like me, and that was OK. I didn't hold grudges. Who has time to do that? There were places to go, people to see, things to do.

By this, I don't mean that my life now is less fulfilling or less enjoyable, but that my teen years taught me how to appreciate and take advantage of life. Because of things I did and learned as a teenager, I have made choices in my 30s that have been good for me and for my family.

So I, for one, defend the youth. Not everything they do, or the fads they follow, but simply being young. The young have the energy, attitude, and naivete to step out of a comfort zone, try something new, learn from it, and become a better person.

None of this has to be done in a selfish way. Being a young person deosn't mean one has to be selfish. To seek self-fulfillment can and ought to be done for the sake of other people. Who but the teenager (and some retired people) has hours and the ability to spend tutoring young children, visiting the homebound and sick, or serving up food and clothing to those who need it? Who but the teenager and twenty-something has the time and capacity to learn advanced philosophy, science, fine arts, or fine trades? Who but the young person typically can travel all over the globe, meeting the Chinese, Nigerian, or German in his home setting? And what horizons, skills, and worldviews are opened up by this service, learning, and exploration? On the outside it may seem like selfish self-fulfillment. But self-fulfillment is self-development and education. It makes a person more capable of loving and serving others.

Young people should be young people for the sake of others: their friends, their families, neighbors, strangers.

What comes to the one who loses his free spirit, his outlook of self-fulfillment--the opportunity continually to grow? Mid-life crises. Anxiety that things won't ever change. Burden from what has become a rut, even if this "rut" is a wonderful and loving spouse and children. Grudges and bitterness.

St. Paul says that when he became a man, he gave up childish ways. So be it. Let us give up the selfishness and ignorance. Let us embrace the maturity and fullness of who we are in the image of God. But let us never give up that heart of a child, which eagerly receives all good things set before it, and sometimes even goes and seeks them out.