I have a few things to say to you. First of all, get your pajamas off the bathroom floor.
Secondly, I found your logic book. In the linen closet. Hmm.
Thirdly, I saw that look you gave me this afternoon when you walked by the living room...and saw me laughing...all alone in an empty room.
That look said so many things to me--things like, "Oh great. Mom's crying again. Wait! She's...laughing. Who's in there? No one? What the heck?! Crying I get, but I have no context for this. Wow. Someone has to be in there. Nope. No one. She is literally laughing out loud at nothing. It's finally happened. She's officially crazy. Should I pretend I didn't see her? I could walk fast. Rats. She saw me. This is awkward."
What you said was, "Heeeeyyy, Mom. Um? I'm just going downstairs now."
It is a testament to how well I know you that I could divine the subtext in that statement, but I want to set your mind at ease.
I'm not crazy.
Well, I don't think I'm crazy, but come to think of it, if I WAS crazy I wouldn't be qualified to evaluate that for myself, so the best I can say is that I don't think I'm crazy.
Actually, no one has ever told me for sure one way or the other, and I've never asked.
Whatever. Maybe I am crazy.
I don't know.
Ask your dad. If he says yes, then you can stop reading because I don't want you listening to crazy people, but if he says no, I have something important to tell you, and it is this:
Because it has come to my attention that we are all pretty funny and you are still too young to realize it, but I am telling you.
Humans are funny.
I want you to know this because the ability to laugh at ourselves and our common tendencies will help keep us from being overly hard on ourselves and getting overly irritated with others.
Let me give you some examples. When I was young, I spent my time on *really important things*, like planning my life out, and imagining that my plans were going to work out according to schedule.
See? Isn't that funny? No?
Wait a few decades and it will be.
Now, I am not saying you shouldn't think about and plan for your future, but you should hold that plan more like a fragile and beautiful butterfly and less like a ketchup bottle.
Another funny thing is the many hours I spent studying the cool people at school, practicing being cool, and pretending it was actually working for me. I only mention this because of the times I have seen you practicing your hair flip in the bathroom mirror. In hindsight, I probably could have dispensed with the whole "coolness" project since it ended up being of dubious value.
Unfortunately, I didn't yet realize that just by virtue of being young, I was ahead of the game. Since you are still young, I am going to tell you a secret which will save you a lot of time and effort, and it is this:
There is some manner in which everything the young do is infused with beauty because, well, youth is beautiful. You don't have to spend all that time worrying about it.
You're beautiful.
That is why everyone is enamored with tiny babies, whose entire skill set is blowing spit bubbles and babbling, but yet no one really wants to see the same thing from a person on the other end of the age spectrum.
It also explains some of the fashion decisions that the young can pull off (or almost pull off) that would look utterly ridiculous on the old.
So listen up! You and your friends might think you look amazing because of the hours you have spent practicing your duck lips and your peace signs and your signature-selfie expressions (you know--that perfect facial balance between cynical, worldly-wise, and amused). But guess what?
That's not why you look amazing. You look amazing simply because you are young. And you have a small window for it. So stop trying so hard and just enjoy it!
The truth is, a teenager could roll out of bed, assemble an outfit from her grandma's closet--blindfolded--top it with a haircut inspired by a poodle, and still look better falling down the stairs than I look after an hour in hot rollers, two layers of make-up, and three Instagram filters.
Ah, Child! The day will come when you will accidentally leave your selfie screen on, look into your backpack, and for just a moment, think your Grandpa Joe fell in there and is crying out for help. With his nostrils.
I speak from experience.
Anyhoo, having gotten all that youth out of the way, now I get to sit and just chuckle over the hilarity of being human.
Which brings me to what you witnessed today.
So, here is what happened BEFORE you came into the room:
I was tidying the living room when I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye that looked like a fat, black hamster peeking out from under the couch. (Yes, I know we don't own a fat, black hamster. If I had taken a minute to evaluate the situation, I might have taken a different path.)
Anyway, I lifted my foot mid-step to avoid stepping on the imaginary rodent, emitted a strangled scream, did a flailing twist and planted my leg in a half-split on the couch--where I teetered for a half second, before flopping backwards and landing in a wedge between the coffee table and the front of the sofa.
Then (and this is what made me laugh), even though I KNEW I was alone, I looked around and BLUSHED. Why? Who was there to care? Me? I was the one who did the cringe-worthy acrobatics. Why should I blush over it?
And that made me stop to consider why we all care so much about not looking foolish or stupid in front of others. And how we don't even need "others" to be embarrassed because sometimes we are embarrassed by something we have done when we are the only ones in the room.
How is that even possible? Is the imaginary audience I live for so powerful that it is impossible for me to actually ever be alone in my own head?
Am I really like the diva who cannot imagine that the world doesn't care every time she picks her nose?
Apparently.
And that silly, vain, dichotomous aspect of humanity made me laugh out loud. See? Funny!
Or maybe to you it seems deadly serious. I know it did to me at your age, and sometimes it still does, but what happened today just made me want to reassure you that you are not alone in the universe of people who care at the very core of their being about being seen. And not just being seen, but being seen in the best possible light.
Here's another thing about your mother. At your age, in addition to my obsession over avoiding embarrassment, I was also unhealthily preoccupied with being liked, to the point that I sometimes did things that were foolish and out of character, just because I thought they might raise me up a notch in someone else's eyes.
Of course, being foolish is only ever foolish, and the only people who think otherwise are fools, but back when I was your age, I was insecure enough to court the approval of anyone and everyone, and since the fools always seemed the quickest to offer theirs up, I ran with it. To my shame.
Here is what I have learned since then. All approval is not created equal. Loud laughter often covers up large foolishness, and the approval that comes from it melts away quickly.
Conversely, the respect that comes from noble and wise people is gained by living honorably and honestly and takes more time and effort to gain, but it has weight and value and longevity.
It is like the difference between the backyard fires that you build with old Amazon boxes and the ones that you light with seasoned wood.
I wish the simple act of growing up could cure us of the tendency to care about feeble applause from braggarts and fools, but I am sad to report that many grown ups spend an obscene amount of time staging their clothes, houses, and their social media accounts--and parading (or concealing) their children and spouses and friends in order to put themselves in the best light.
So why do we care so deeply about being seen? And why not just seen, but approved of? Why is our worth tied up so tightly with being "good" at what we do? (Good mother, good spouse, good friend, good at sports, good employee, good looking, good at managing life, good as a person.)
Why do we spend so much of our lives collecting praise, affirmation, and approval--to the point that we create entire fake worlds on social media and waste hours remaking our faces and wardrobes and houses and families and bodies to fit the mold of what is considered cool and attractive by the cultures in which we live?
If you can answer these questions definitively you will put hundreds of social scientists out of work and you have my permission to skip college.
If not, don't worry. I just want you to know that the deep need to be seen and known and valued and loved is real and relentless--not just in you, but in all of us.
But here is another true thing: the longer you live, the more you will realize that no human accolade, or accomplishment, or award, no level of notoriety, no amount of fame or Facebook likes or Instagram followers--not even the most intimate and passionate human love can meet this hunger in us.
And that might not sound good, but it is, because this insatiable hunger for acknowledgment and significance can drive us to look for the One who can satisfy it.
God.
If we manage to see through our vast feelings of self importance--when we realize that ultimately, one way or another, everyone leaves us and no one REALLY knows us (and few even try to)--we might look up and try to find out Who it is that our hearts are seeking so desperately
My private theory is that God very much wants us to feel the weight of His gaze.
I think the innate desire to be known, loved, enjoyed, and approved of is planted deep within us--as the answering echo to His invitation to meet those longings, fully and completely.
And the promise is that if we seek Him, we will find Him (Matthew 7:7-8) and finally have a chance to wonder at the enormity of being intimately known and loved by the Creator of the Universe.
We want to matter. We do not crave mere existence (like beasts), but rather have an intrinsic sense that we are eternally significant beings in possession of a worth so profound and beautiful that even the mundane pursuits of life are infused with deep meaning.
It is why even though it is ubiquitous, universal, and inescapable, death shocks us and feels like a cosmic impossibility right up to the moment it takes us or our loved ones.
In fact, we put so much importance on finding meaning in life and securing the good opinion of others that the absence of those things is one of the few things that can drive us to despair and suicide.
I believe that God lets us feel the weight of the life we live "Coram Deo" to call us back to Himself--to remind us that His voice is the strongest and truest one in a cacophonous choir of mutterings.
There are so many whisperings and lies down here.
But this is the truth:
You are at this moment a priceless treasure, immortal, irreplaceable, infinitely important--because of the inestimable price that was paid for you by the King of all Kings. He made you and loves you with all of your quirks and individuality.
He gave you your gifts and wrote you into His story before the foundation of the world, and even now--when you cannot always decipher your feelings and cannot figure out your purpose and cannot even trust your voice to emerge in the right octave when you speak, He draws you along by his mighty Spirit. (Ephesians 1:3-5, Romans 5:6-8,
Ephesians 2:10)
And this is the most important thing, Sweet Child of Mine: Ultimately, His opinion of you is the only one that matters because it is the only one that lasts forever.
So dispense with the courting of fools and the cultivation of image.
The creation of persona and the staging of online illusions.
The collecting of accolades and the compiling of likes.
The pursuit of the perfect hair flip and the blushing over imaginary hamsters.
It is meaningless. A chasing after wind.
Psalm 139 says:
O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you...
...Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!
