I don't know about you, but when I was little I couldn't
wait to be a grownup... It was going to be so cool to do what I wanted and to
have a job and... Yeah. Not so much fun as I thought. I now look back at my
juvenile self and wonder, "what on earth was I thinking?" Being an
adult is nothing like I thought it would be- it's both harder and better and
more confusing than I ever would have expected. As I've (unwillingly) entered
adulthood, I've discovered that some of the hallmarks of being a grownup are
subtle, and come (surprise!) also under
the title of maturity.
The first thing I've learned is that being a mature adult means following through till the end- not until you want to be finished, not until you've simply fulfilled the requirements, but until the job is done. This was illustrated to me quite forcibly a couple weeks ago, when I was working a couple exceptionally long shifts to prepare for mothers’ day. I was scheduled to have a helper, a high school senior who's really a good kid, hard worker and responsible, knows what he's doing. He helped for about six hours, and was a huge help (I'm not complaining at all about him) but left in time to be home for dinner, and I was still working till about 10 that night. And the next day, after working about 10 hours, I wound up staying for another 2 (after the same helper had left) to help a coworker who was running behind through no fault of her own. I'm not saying this to brag or toot my own horn, because I could have done all this with a slightly better attitude, but to illustrate the difference between being 17 and being 24.
Another thing that I’ve learned is that as you grow up, you learn when to let an argument go. I was arguing with a coworker, and we were really talking at cross purposes, and I realized that there was going to be no resolution to the argument at that point, so I let it drop and walked away. A few years ago, I would have argued it to the bitter end, just so I could be right. However, as I've gotten older, I've realized that proving that I’m right sometimes just isn’t worth it. In the end, it turned out that walking away was exactly the right thing to do, as we were able to resolve it quite well a few days later.
One of my coworkers has a saying, "the only true form of interest is self-interest.” And I used to argue with him endlessly about how he couldn’t be right, because I wasn’t willing to be that cynical about all of humanity. Most, certainly, but not all. After all, wasn’t Jesus disinterested when He died for us? Well… it can be argued that He was ultimately serving His own interests. God (Jesus) wanted us to be reconciled with Himself, and the cross was the only way to do it. So was it for our benefit or His? I’m not saying this to start any sort of arguments or soul-searching, head-scratching, potentially pointless philosophizing. I’m saying it because I’ve realized the same dilemma in my own life—am I kind and helpful because I love other people and wish to benefit them, or because it makes me feel good to help? And does it really matter why? Here’s what I’ve realized: that ultimately, everything I do has some sort of benefit to myself—makes me feel good about myself, earns me praise from someone, or just creates a sense of goodwill from doing the right thing. Even sacrificial giving, which on the surface hurts me, makes me feel good because I know I’m doing the right thing. And I think it’s a sign of being a mature adult, learning to find that your own interests are served by serving others, and learning to find satisfaction with less and less outward approbation from someone else. Here’s an example: can I find pleasure and fulfillment in doing something for someone else that makes them happy without them knowing who did it (and therefore I receive no human praise)? Once I’ve reached that point, the whole question of motivation ( I think) dissolves, because it almost becomes a chicken and egg question, when ultimately what matters is that we have chickens and we have eggs. And ultimately, what matters is that the right thing is done, and that people are blessed.
The first thing I've learned is that being a mature adult means following through till the end- not until you want to be finished, not until you've simply fulfilled the requirements, but until the job is done. This was illustrated to me quite forcibly a couple weeks ago, when I was working a couple exceptionally long shifts to prepare for mothers’ day. I was scheduled to have a helper, a high school senior who's really a good kid, hard worker and responsible, knows what he's doing. He helped for about six hours, and was a huge help (I'm not complaining at all about him) but left in time to be home for dinner, and I was still working till about 10 that night. And the next day, after working about 10 hours, I wound up staying for another 2 (after the same helper had left) to help a coworker who was running behind through no fault of her own. I'm not saying this to brag or toot my own horn, because I could have done all this with a slightly better attitude, but to illustrate the difference between being 17 and being 24.
Another thing that I’ve learned is that as you grow up, you learn when to let an argument go. I was arguing with a coworker, and we were really talking at cross purposes, and I realized that there was going to be no resolution to the argument at that point, so I let it drop and walked away. A few years ago, I would have argued it to the bitter end, just so I could be right. However, as I've gotten older, I've realized that proving that I’m right sometimes just isn’t worth it. In the end, it turned out that walking away was exactly the right thing to do, as we were able to resolve it quite well a few days later.
One of my coworkers has a saying, "the only true form of interest is self-interest.” And I used to argue with him endlessly about how he couldn’t be right, because I wasn’t willing to be that cynical about all of humanity. Most, certainly, but not all. After all, wasn’t Jesus disinterested when He died for us? Well… it can be argued that He was ultimately serving His own interests. God (Jesus) wanted us to be reconciled with Himself, and the cross was the only way to do it. So was it for our benefit or His? I’m not saying this to start any sort of arguments or soul-searching, head-scratching, potentially pointless philosophizing. I’m saying it because I’ve realized the same dilemma in my own life—am I kind and helpful because I love other people and wish to benefit them, or because it makes me feel good to help? And does it really matter why? Here’s what I’ve realized: that ultimately, everything I do has some sort of benefit to myself—makes me feel good about myself, earns me praise from someone, or just creates a sense of goodwill from doing the right thing. Even sacrificial giving, which on the surface hurts me, makes me feel good because I know I’m doing the right thing. And I think it’s a sign of being a mature adult, learning to find that your own interests are served by serving others, and learning to find satisfaction with less and less outward approbation from someone else. Here’s an example: can I find pleasure and fulfillment in doing something for someone else that makes them happy without them knowing who did it (and therefore I receive no human praise)? Once I’ve reached that point, the whole question of motivation ( I think) dissolves, because it almost becomes a chicken and egg question, when ultimately what matters is that we have chickens and we have eggs. And ultimately, what matters is that the right thing is done, and that people are blessed.
~*~
As I’ve been writing this, I’ve realized even more the danger of blogging—that I will come across as boasting about what I’ve learned, or what a good person I am to do certain things. That’s not my intention. I write about the things I’ve done that I’ve learned something from—not the hundreds of times I’ve done the same thing over and over again the wrong way and still don’t know any more than I started out knowing. I also realize that I may end up sounding like I think about spiritual things all the time, because that is mostly what I write about. That’s not the case, even if it should be. Most of my thoughts are filled with work, entertainment, relationships, and whether the cute delivery guy at work even realizes I exist. But every time I sit down to write a blog post, the things that seem most important to write about tend to be spiritual in nature.
Bottom line is that I’m not some wonderful, special person. I’m normal! Case in point—I just spent almost a week hating my job, for absolutely no reason. Foul mood culminated in a minor melt-down in my living room one night, complete with throwing the phone across the room into the couch. And the next day was great at work. Still no idea what was wrong for that week…
What I’m trying to say here is that, despite my best efforts, this blog will present a lop-sided view of me. Inherent in my blog title is the fact that this “good girl” does not have it as together as it appears. So please keep that in mind as you listen to me—even read these posts with the mindset that I’m a bit of a know-it-all. Just ask my best friend; who, because she is the nicest person in the world, will deny it. So, actually, ask my coworkers.
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