Part I Growing Up
Chapter 1: My First Official Grown-Up Summer
This was before marriage, before kids. Before paying rent and doing my own grocery shopping. Before 9/11. Before the future, the unknowns of life, went from exciting to scary. Before I knew what it felt like to be afraid of being the biggest failure on earth, to have panic attacks, to be afraid of getting up in the morning. Before anxiety made itself comfortable in my head, like an unwanted houseguest who ruins everything, takes up all your time and energy, and JUST ... WON'T ... LEAVE! This was before I knew what deep depression felt like, even though life was still rather good, when all you can do is stare out the window onto a yard of snow for hours at a time, praying the only prayer you can think of: "Dear Jesus, please come back and end it all. Just come back now and end it all." Before a different family member died each year, for several years in a row: my aunt, my biological father, my mother-in-law, my grandfather, my grandmother, my sister-in-law. Before my mother's three years of suicidal drinking, when she was in and out of the hospital on a regular basis. Before I understood why people commit suicide. And before my mother was arrested for the death of someone I knew. (The investigation into that has just started, years after I wrote this book. I'm just adding it as a little update. But like I said, this is before all of that, before I knew this stuff would be a part of my life, my journey. So that's a story for another day, another book. Maybe. But maybe not.)
This was back in the mid-90's, when life was simple and predictable and pleasant. When the most I had to worry about was making sure to put gas in my car before it hit empty. When the future was bright and sunny and wide-open, beckoning me with all sorts of promises of excitement and newness and fulfillment. I was twenty years old. Almost twenty-one. And I was going to the other side of the world in a huge leap of faith. It was a ten-week trip, my first summer away from home. Away from anything and anyone familiar. And I was confident and fearless, ready for just about anything.
I walked down the boarding ramp to the plane, plodding along in a tan shirt, a peach, ankle-length skirt, and a big, ugly pair of construction boots, tears springing to my eyes, but totally excited to be facing the unknown, the great wide open. But as I cast a last tearful glance back at my boyfriend who was waving good-bye at the gate, a tangible feeling of aloneness came over me. (I come from a family of eight. You never get a chance to feel alone in a family of eight.) And not just aloneness, but loneliness. I was all on my own in a way I had never been before. It was just me ... well, just me and God. I would leave home a girl and come back all grown up.
[FYI: This chapter is long and boring. I'm serious. Have you ever read through the phone book! Hold on, most people nowadays won't know what that is. How about the "terms and conditions" stuff on websites or when opening bank accounts or getting a credit card or things like that? Have you ever read that stuff? BORING! And long. That's how long and boring this is. So go ahead and skip it. You have my permission. All you really need to know is this: I went on a mission trip when I was a fresh-faced, optimistic, hopeful young-adult, and it grew me up in so many ways. I grew in my self-confidence and I grew in my faith. But I would later discover that I had a lot more growing to do and that my faith and confidence were not as hunky-dory as I thought. There! Now you can go right to chapter 2, if you don't want to read a really long, boring chapter. I'm serious, it's boring. So if you keep reading this, and you get to the end and think "Wow, that was long and boring! What a waste of time. And now I can never get those 17 hours of my life back again" ... don't say I didn't warn you. It'll be on you! (And in fact, this whole book is boring, completely self-indulgent on my part. And so once again, don't say I didn't warn you.)]
