GROWTH

From between about ages 8 to 15, I remember believing I had something wrong with me. Especially at night, I felt all kinds of aches and pains in my lower body, particularly in my calves. If my mom had time and willingness, I would often ask her to massage my calves to relieve the pain. I asked my dad “What is wrong with me?” enough times that his answer became predictable and I came to grudgingly accept it. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just growing pains.”

Growing pains are natural, but it doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real. In fact, I can’t identify any pain more real, more disruptive, more disturbing, than growing pains. Growth takes us through a very real form of death, the compelling sense of relinquishing what was good for us in exchange for something more. Until we fully experience and firmly grasp that something more, growth is experienced as loss. Gracefully growing involves grieving the loss.

We have twin 13 year olds. They are both in the middle of a major growth spurt and it is clearly difficult for them. Somewhat against their will, they are having to let go of childhood. Childhood was good. For them, it is not some distant memory. It feels as recent as yesterday but is increasingly out of reach, like when a dear friend moves away. We are encouraging them to grieve the loss, to shed those tears in acknowledgment that the past is dying that they may have that something more. That something more is not all that inviting yet, or tangibly settled.

Relationships grow. Marriages and families progress through stages. It hurts sometimes. The pain is real and should be grieved.

Everyone is either stuck or growing. Those who are stuck should be pitied, as they suffer the pain and loss of not reaching their next something more. Those who are growing suffer the different form of loss that leads to something more. Consequently, everyone needs to grieve and everyone is a candidate for compassion.