Everyone has a different idea of when a person becomes an adult. Puberty. Twenty One. College graduation. Marriage.
I don’t know who’s right. My childhood ended, quickly. While most others worried about boyfriends and proms. I worried about money and deep-rooted family issues. Worry with a dash of pain and weariness, too.
Yet, those times didn’t induct me into adulthood. Instead it occurred the day I realized how much my heart could be torn out. When I realized the true consequence of love rejected. The feeling of never trusting again—as if every bone in my body was crumbling in pain—that’s when I realized I had become an adult. Why?
Because I realize, now, that day’s pain was mirroring the pain of the Saviour I serve. In those moments, I felt just a sliver of what He feels with every life that chooses to reject Him. In those moments, I realized how much I hurt Him every time I spoke against Him or neglected His words.
It was humbling. All this time, I thought it was just a bad chapter of my life. Wrong.
It was actually the new book in the series of my life. I became an adult the day I realized what love really meant; An undertaking that consumes you, entirely and selflessly.
Love brought me into adulthood.
