I'm going to Seoul

This time three years ago I was frantically preparing for the Reformed Family Bible Conference; basically the biggest event ever for families at our church and other Reformed Presbyterian families. I say families, but I remember it being more important of an event for us kids than anything else. It was the pinnacle of our year, the beginning and the end, the social experience that rivaled all others. You met teens like you; they were mostly homeschooled, like you, mostly from large families, like you, most were just a little quirky, like you. 
I began going in 2009, never with my entire family (irony!). Instead, I hitched a ride with others from our church and stayed with various church friends at different dorms throughout the week (did I mention this is held on a college campus?! Yes, a "real life" college campus!).
I have to thank "Conference" for a few great, longlasting friendships in my teenage years. I have to thank "Conference" for many magical moments; perfect sunsets, moonrises, and enchanting mountain mornings. I have to thank "Conference" for a lot of teen drama, for the pains of growing up, of seeing the world differently, of expanding my vision, of change, selfishness, and angst, too. And I have the "Barn Dance" (held in a gym with a steel roof that looks more like an igloo tank or a bomb shelter than a 'barn') at the end of "Conference" to thank for learning The Posties Jig. I think I did indeed learn a lot about God and His plans for our lives at this event, whether I realized that I would before, realized I did then, or realize it now. Some days, I still wonder what I went through all of my teenage years for.
I was only thirteen and a half when I started going. Now I'm eighteen and a half, and I don't go anymore.
As mentioned above, there is pain in changing. I'm feeling that pain right now. It's selfish, and it's angsty, and it's dramatic, too. I'm young still. I might be a legal adult, but if some can believe the government is corrupt, I can believe that said government establishing the concept of the number eighteen signifying maturity and adulthood is dumb.
I don't hate "Conference". I don't really like it anymore, either. That's because I change, and I'm still coming to terms with that, myself. I'm still wondering why I had to change, why anyone had to change, and break the magic that was once something I enjoyed. But all of those baby-faced thirteen, fourteen, fifteen year olds have grown up.
When I was thirteen, I was excited to make new friends because I was incredibly, painfully shy. When I was fourteen, I thought that friendships lasted forever; I had no concept of time, change, or responsibilities. When I was fifteen, reality began to hit and the only thing that mattered was that I made the best of the time I had left. Cue the drama and angst x 1,000.
I feel like a fifteen-year-old today. I leave for Seoul in ten days, and all of the relationships I have here, there, and everywhere feel strained and over-magnified. I'm going to miss watching the garden grow and the grapes ripen, going to the Chautauqua festival, and being with my family for five weeks. The world feels so much smaller now, but larger at the same time. There are so many people, and none of them are required to like me, and none of them understand me, and none of them ever will. There are so many contrasting ideas of what traditions are, what ettiquette is, and how to show affection. Culture as a whole is both a warm and cold thing, and it's frightening. Of course there is love, too, and it's place in the world. How logical should we be, how closely should we examine a relationship? How much does coffee and a smile even amount to, a year later?
I'm selfish. I'm angsty. I'm dramatic. Hello fifteen.
I don't hate "going to Seoul". I still like it, and thank goodness I haven't changed that much. But it's because I have changed, I feel uneasy. I worry, and I panic. I don't trust God and I don't wait for Him, and I forget why I'm going through these teenage years, anyway. I don't realize beforehand, in the moment, or afterwards, wherever I am at the moment, what the plan is going to be. I'm not going to play humble and deny that I am an intelligent person. I'm so smart, and I'm arrogant, too, and I want to know things. But I can't know everything; God just doesn't want me to. Drives. me. crazy.
Not knowing what's going to happen in the future isn't the point, I guess. The point is that I got the opportunity. I got the opportunity to return to something that was magical, beautiful, and full of change. I got the opportunity to go back, and it might be another captivating, mystifying, learning experience, or it could be another roller coaster of selfishness, angst, and drama.
Sometimes, I miss younger days in my life and I wish I could go back to those times when I felt more secure and I didn't care about the future. But in the end, I can't really go back again. I have to go forward.

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; ⁶ in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6

 

-Argentia Krystofel