To be young again

Betty Higden gravely shook her head. ‘I am strong for my time of life, sir, but not young, thank the Lord!’

‘Are you thankful for not being young?’

‘Yes, sir. If I was young, it would all have to be gone through again, and the end would be a weary way off, don’t you see?’

~ Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend

I recently celebrated my 44th birthday, which seems like it should be a special milestone in Hobbit lore. My brother, who is three years my senior, sent me an article titled “Scientists Find Humans Age Dramatically in Two Bursts—At 44, Then 60.”

Well, I don’t know what sixty’s like, but I pulled a muscle the other night by sleeping, so I’m looking forward to that.

The kids have another 80’s/90’s-themed event coming up, to prepare for which, Lizzy was scouring the internet for my high school yearbook—which, thankfully for middle-aged parents everywhere, is protected by a sign-in requirement. 

[If I wasn’t so old I would know what that’s called. It’s not a paywall because it’s free to sign up, but I don’t think it’s a firewall either…]

Anyhow, after my best recollections and descriptions and also googling the Full House cast, Dirty Dancing, Ferris Bueller, Molly Ringwald, and MC Hammer, Lizzy put together an outfit.

At one point she asked me why I was so pained by the thought of unearthing photo evidence of that time of my life, which is a good question—especially considering how much more it took for me to pull a muscle back then.

It’s not that my outfits were so cringey—one of my current favorite garments is a thick, hooded, wearable blanket. 

More to the point, being a teenager is inherently frustrating. You want to be an adult, you can almost see adulthood, but you’re not allowed to be an adult.

Also, news flash, high schools are full of jerks. And I had fewer inner resources back then to cope with mean people. 

I think worst of all, and why I don’t want to revisit myself in the 90’s, is that I was kind of a jerk. I mean, I’m kind of a jerk now, but a lot less of one than when I was 14. God’s goodness to me over a few decades means I’ve grown in empathy, grace, and kindness. 

So, no, I don’t want to go through all that again. I have enough growing to do in future decades, if the Lord wills, and heaven is a wearily-long-enough way off, without going back and being young again. Give me the muscle aches and short-term memory loss, and give me Jesus sooner than later.