you made me feel i was 14 again...

the closest picture of me at 14 I had scanned onto my computer. I was actually barely 16--in rainy Germany. My overalls with the bow belt loops are about as awesome as they can be...

Now 14, my Z is preparing to enter his freshman year in high school in the next few weeks. During a quiet moment with just us two this afternoon, I wanted to give him some advice--let him know I understood a lot of fears and apprehensions he's having, open up a dialogue. But I remembered being that age and having my mom try to tell me she understood and all I could think was, But you grew up in the 50's! You're so...old.

So, I thought my 14 year old might like to hear some advice from his 14 year old mom. I went to my box of journals and dug out the one I kept during 1989-90, when I was 14. Z worked on his drawings while I read.

He laughed at the number of crushes I went through, including my pining over Joey McIntyre of New Kids on the Block (I almost said they were the N'Sync of my day, then I remembered N'Sync was a decade ago and I had to search around in my head of current culture to reference One Direction). He nodded in solidarity as I spoke of frustration with friends--excessive clique-ishness, being sad to watch friends make choices to drink or smoke, or lose them when they started to shun friendships in favor of relationships. I spoke of concerns for my family, especially my younger brother who always seemed to be running with the wrong crowd. Then there were the stories of my spiritual "coming of age," how choices I made (or didn't) at that age had lasting influences on my life. I loved that my Z recognized several names of people I continue to be friends with today, helping him to see that nurtured friendships can last.

While I loved the whole experience of wandering down memory lane with my son who, I really think ended up convinced that times aren't so different and maybe his old mom knows what she's talking about--

I was also very humbled by life in general. By the wisdom I had at 14. In fact, many of the concerns and hopes I had then are the same ones I have now, just set against a different backdrop than junior high: Struggles with losing people I love, with the effects of those close to me making poor decisions that lead them to unhappy places. Hurt when betrayed by dishonesty. Feelings of inadequacy over my appearance or capabilities, usually when I unnecessarily compare myself to others. Frustration when I don't reach the lofty goals I set for myself. Sadness over injustices in the world. A deep desire for stability and peace in my own life, and a belief they could exist in spite of what was happening in the world.

And 14 year old me shared a lot of the same hopes and 'fancies' that 37 year old me shares, too. She loved perfect 50's cut dresses, good pizza, and jazz music. She read and wrote voraciously. She always believed love was just around the corner, and was never afraid of it--even if it hurt. She lived to be silly with friends. She adored her family and time with them.  She was a terrible driver. She wanted the very, very best for everyone around her and was excited about others' accomplishments. She wondered about the nature of God, but never doubted his kindness or guidance. The future was a thing to both fear and anxiously anticipate.

I also realized I had essentially been praying for the same things for nearly 25 years now. Some of those prayers have been answered, though in ways I didn't expect. Some were answered and then unanswered. Some, I'm still waiting for.

And I think that's life, you know?  Becoming increasingly more aware of the world outside yourself, of your part in it, of what you can affect and what you can't. Being tempered and made wise by experience. All while holding to that constant wanting of (hopefully) good things that has likely been with you since you were a child.

Life is the perfect test, the perfect testing ground. It's mean. It's tough. It's tiring. And its hard-fought wonderful moments make all the difficulties worth it--and then some.
I think the sentence I ended my 14 year old-self's journal with is the most telling: "Oh well. I suppose I'll learn one day!"

And you know what? I suppose I will.