Daddy sent me an email this morning to say that while his houses growing up didn't have a lot of things (like electricity), they always had a floor. Unlike what I wrote in a blog last week. Oops. Sorry, Daddy.
A lot of milestones mark our growing up, but many of them are dictated by the calendar or the school system and really don't mark a specific jump in maturity. Those times when the light bulb goes on and we realize we just grew some are usually not planned for - and there is rarely cake to celebrate the moment.
Like the phone call I had to make when I was in my twenties to say, "I was wrong and I'm sorry" to a friend at church. She didn't dismiss me with a "that's okay." She accepted my apology, explained her position once more and then we moved on. We moved on to a better relationship and I grew up a little more.
Now most of you probably don't share this problem of mine - I like to be right. And I don't mind saying I'm sorry as long as everyone understands - I was still right. Mama told me one time that the words "I'm sorry" rolled off my tongue so easy because I rarely meant it. Ouch.
That jump in growing up, when I called my friend, came because I accepted that I was completely in the wrong. Believe me, I tried to find a way for me to be right. But when I willingly took on the mantle of being wrong and asking forgiveness, I laid to the side some immaturity and childishness.
"Love means never having to say you're sorry", a tag line for the movie "Love Story" from 1970 became a popular saying. A friends' older sister had a poster with it hanging in her room when I was in jr. high. After I spent the night there once, my dad picked me up and he saw the poster. In the car on the way home he said, "That poster is wrong. Love means saying you're sorry."
And I guess growing up means saying it - and meaning it.