Today I told a much younger friend that there is absolutely nothing that I miss about being young. He replied, "You were young?" And I said, well, I can't rightly remember. I suppose that was when large animals still roamed the earth or maybe the earth's surface was still cooling. I qualified it a bit. When I was eighteen I had already survived being kicked out of my father's home (long story, but, really, he did not like me, nor did he want me for a son) and then having to leave my mother's upon finishing high school because she was shacked up with a dangerous idiot whom she was planning to leave. I was still eighteen when I had my own apartment and was working fulltime. The idea of post-secondary education was completely out of the question. First, I had to survive.
I survived. And that's all I did, until I became too exhausted from trauma to be able to continue, but I was already in my early forties when that happened. In the meantime, I coped. I went to school for a couple of years, till I ran out of money and had to get back to working fulltime. I was still only twenty-two. I spent the following years working for a miserably low wage wiping other people's bums and tending to the special needs of the dying, among other things, as a home support worker. My sense of interpersonal, social and global responsibility as a young Christian hugely outweighed any desire to go out and have fun. I would imagine this seems rather pathetic to some of my Gentle Readers, but shallow, not so much
I have always lived with a sense of having a higher purpose in life. This has not prevented me from making unwise choices nor have I always taken the best care of myself. My own unmet needs to feel wanted and needed by others often got in the way of common sense and I eventually burned myself out while reaching out in Christian love to the marginalized and the ungrateful. Going out with friends for dinner and drinks and a show or looking for love in the wrong places never seemed like an option. For me it was all rather meaningless, and besides, I felt there were too many people in need of help and ministry languishing outside of the restaurants, bars and theatres to leave me with a clear conscience. My life was to be consecrated entirely to the service of Christ. I still don't think that I actually chose this way of life, but rather, it was chosen for me and I have simply consented to God that he have his way in my life.
I don't feel that I have been cheated, nor deprived of anything. I am older now. I am definitely more content, and, dare I say it? happy. I am sixty-one and enjoy good health. I have a decent affordable apartment and work that I find fulfilling as well as lovely and decent friends. I have enough money to travel every year. I find it interesting that my recent travel experiences have done much to heal my anxiety and facilitate a fuller recovery from PTSD, much as my early start at independence has made me a tough and fearless free spirit. My life is more quiet than before. And fuller.
The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want...for anything.
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