Mature

Word of the day: mature.

At this age, I’m beginning to hear that word a lot. What does it mean to be mature? To act your age? To be an adult? It seems to be pretty ambiguous. Does it mean keeping your emotions to yourself? Learning to accept what you cannot control? Living on your own?

Not exactly?

The dictionary definition of “mature” has to do with coming to a desired, concluding state. For the Christian, it’s unattainable here because we will never be “finished” this side of heaven. So what’s a girl to do to become mature, when the definition is so ambiguous and the result unattainable? What exactly is mature?

Over the last two years, I have seen a change in myself that some would consider becoming more mature. In 2009, I went through a breakup that dragged itself out for several months before skidding to a calm place where I could really start healing. Since the beginning, I’ve gone through several different stages. From curse words, to seemingly endless tears, to the end of the world (oh, woe is me!), to anger and hatred, to slowly letting go of dreams that had already been taken from me, to realizing that this was the way things would be, to finding a new identity, to finally figuring out how to forgive—a process that took a really long time compared to some and a short time compared to others. Though I reached out for support from friends (some of whom I leaned on and wailed at too much—I’m sorry!), it was a wound that could only be fixed by God’s love and a series of decisions that I made on my own. I had to get sick of myself in order to rise from my mud puddle of self-pity.

Yesterday, I found out that he was engaged. I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling—I went from what???, to THE INJUSTICE!, to moping for poor little single me. Then to something else—something beautiful.

Laura, I have a plan for you. I love you. I know what’s best for you, and this is it. Why don’t you trust me? 

And something else.

I love him and have a plan for him, too. And this is it. Accept it.

That stopped me in my tracks. Who am I to question my circumstances? Laura of a year ago would have focused on how unfair the situation was, I was the one left behind, I wait and pray for my future husband, in my own eyes I had done everything right while he did everything WRONG.

My answer to hurt was ACCUSE, CONDEMN, WAIT FOR HIS DEMISE. ß not grace.

Now I see why everything happened as it did, and I praise God for it. I praise him for this period of my life, even as I have dreams of the future. I praise him for breaking my heart as he did, because in reality, it wasn’t the boy’s fault—it was God’s. In all honesty, I do want good things for that boy now.

A dozen friends of mine have gotten engaged or married over the last year. At least six have gotten divorced. My God knows that I’m not ready for that world, but that I desire it someday (marriage—not divorce. I hope that was obvious.)

It’s strange to see my old dreams playing out exactly as I planned them—with someone else. But that’s how God intended it, and I trust him. Even if this is some kind of a joke, or if it doesn't last, this situation will still have made me think. 

Part of maturity is letting go of the past, which has been a struggle for the girl who’s never wanted to grow up and wants to hold onto dreams as tightly as she can. Another part of maturity is trusting God’s timing. Little 20-year-old me doesn’t know what’s in store, but I know that He has written every last detail of my life and has given it a purpose. I’ve always been loved by a Savior who knows EXACTLY what he’s doing.

Which means He knows what’s best for me, even if I'm not mature enough to see it at first.