NOT A GROWN-UP

I was proud. Not only had I seemed to conquer the so-called "language barrier," but I had become an only child (spoiled at that) and independent all in one move to another country. My brothers had stayed in the states to finish college. And all I had to do was pretend to do school work (correspondence/home school - but that's another story) and act as though I always knew what I was talking about. I mean, I was the American girl in this Amazon city - everyone already knew who I was - I might as well seem to know something about something.

Before I knew it - I was finding my outlets - music in church, youth groups and translating. Actually, that was what I most enjoyed doing. Going on mission trips on different boats on the Amazon and translating for teams. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started. There was one specific boat I would work with and all the translators slept downstairs. I was the only "employee" under the age of 18. Everyone else worked hard for this and here I was - a "grown up."

All the guys would stay up at night talking about girls, the girls would be talking about guys - inevitably, someone would always start dating someone else on the boat. We all took showers in the same little stalls right beside our hammocks. I remember being excited and scared simultaneously almost all the time. I was having a blast being in charge of children's programs, being right there on the "surgical" table with the doctors and patients, and "preaching" for whoever the American preacher was. I was proud.

It didn't take long in this grown-up world to realize that I might not belong. When I had to tell 50, 60 and 70-year-old ladies what to do with the kids, when I had to lead all the music for a "spiritually-inviting environment," when I had to translate sermons about subjects I didn't even understand, and especially when I had to talk to male doctors and their adolescent male patients and their mothers about personal matters all in the same room at the same time. I was 13, 14, 15 and 16 - but as I grew, I knew inside I was still 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7...I was NOT a grown-up.

Sidenote: I didn't HAVE to work - it's not like my parents were forcing me to do this, but it was such a good idea at the time - a good social outlet, a good skill-building environment. And I loved the importance I felt from having the responsibilities.

I felt inside I wasn't exactly supposed to be here - doing this. But I was hooked - I can even say addicted. I wanted that freedom, I wanted to be important and good at something. Even the veteran translators would come to me for advice. Everything seemed to be coming up roses for me. In my small eyes, everything seemed almost glamorous. I was becoming famous in my own right. And the perks weren't bad either - I loved being around all these young, beautiful and talented single people - none of whom were my age. And when anyone my age did show up, I wasn't interested. I was too "grown-up," too "mature," besides too "famous" for them.

I was solely responsible for my choice of independence. My drug of choice would be my dependence and ultimately my demise.
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2Ch 25:4 But he slew not their children, but did as it is written in the law in the book of Moses, where the L-RD commanded, saying, The fathers shall not die for the children, neither shall the children die for the fathers, but every man shall die for his own sin.