Adulting with Joy and Peace

Light and playful. It’s a vibe I like.

My kids do it well. My daughter Summer is 17 years old. She has a moderate intellectual disability, as well as being diagnosed with autism and epilepsy. Verbal communication is not her strong suit, but she loves to connect with people. She loves to have fun. And she loves to laugh.

She will sit with two adults having a conversation for long periods of time. And when they laugh she will laugh. With gusto. It’s hilarious. I don’t know whether she understands fully what the conversation is about, but she understands the laughter. And with that she joins in. And people love her for it.

My son Micah is 13 years old. He is often launching out with funny comments or questions, or playfully teasing my husband and I. I’m not always ready for it, but he is. He has a playful vibe of ease, that I know I need to lean into more. It’s good for me. It’s good for him.

Yesterday I was praying with two other women. And sharing how I was struggling with so much fatigue. Having been diagnosed with chronic fatigue, this is a recurrent theme and I’ve had all kinds of advice. But yesterday their encouragement was different — live more like a child — with joy, freedom and playfulness.

Then last night the theme continued. My Facebook livestream guest was interrupted by her young son near the end of the program, wanting to say goodnight. She shared how he had also come to her earlier, so determined and insistent for her attention. So much so that she got a revelation…

“That’s how it’s supposed to be with us and God… running to him, with all our want and insistence, just to be in his presence.”

I cherished that image when she brought it. That one-eyed wanting of his attention.

So I pondered all of this today…

Why is that we adults often don’t live with the joy and freedom of kids. At what point do we lose this and why?

I thought about our responsibilities and our subsequent seriousness. I wondered if we bear the weight of these and they burden us. Do we become fixated on what we must do — desperately trying not to drop the balls we are juggling in the air?

Perhaps also, we learn over and over again, through let down and disappointment, that other people can’t be fully trusted. And so we are tempted to be more self-reliant, trusting only ourselves.

Indeed, that let down is inevitable for all of us. People have different perspectives and expectations. And we can’t mind read or live to please others all the time. So disappointment, then self-protection eventuates.

And yet children haven’t learned any of this. They don’t carry this burden.

But what if the weight of adult responsibility is not meant to be entirely ours? What if we are not meant to put our trust in people?

What if we were created to put these weights on God?

Hmm that’s a thought…

But is that practical? How would that look?

What if we trusted God so implicitly as the good Father, that the weight of responsibility shifted. And we were just obedient children doing what needed to be done, but ultimately trusting God to provide, to direct, to protect, etc. A change of heart posture. Would that feel lighter?

And what if, instead of trusting people and being disappointed, or retreating into self-reliance, we put our trust in God. Living with the hope and faith, that he is our good Father, our provider and our shepherd. What would that heart posture do to our burden?

I sense many would baulk at this. Who puts their trust in the unknown? Who throws away reason to the wind?

But for those who know God, it is the most logical thing to do. The God who sees all, knows all, has ultimate wisdom, with unconditional love. There’s no smarter option. The God of the Universe who can be trusted, even if we don’t like what he says all the time. There’s freedom in surrender to him. Albeit that the process of surrender can be painful.

Surrender. The door to breakthrough.

Think about it.

So much anxiety we live with. It’s not meant to be. We weren’t made to carry that weight.

…

God help me be more childlike and trust in you. To not carry the burden of responsibility that is not mine to bear. I want to live with that lighter step, to enjoy the freedom of playfulness in the midst of adulting. I need your help to go through that door.