Late Bloomer

Late bloomer

I was a late bloomer growing up. I hit puberty later than most of my classmates and I stayed childish in my ways when my peers started showing interest in boys and partying. I think I’m still childish in that sense. That interest never sparked in me. I’m more interested in nature, books and God. I believe it’s a gift. The gift of innocence. But I’ve also consciously protected my heart. I remember being a teen and my friends wanted to watch horror movies and I chose to walk home by myself several miles in the middle of the night rather than stay and watch “Children of the Corn”. I definitely don’t regret my choice. I think it has built stamina in me. Like Daniel and his friends when they were in captivity in Babylon: “Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not pollute himself with the king’s delicate food”. I made that same conscious choice to not take part of certain things that my peers did. Some of it was definitely not pure, but rather religious and silently condescending. Alcohol, dancing, make up and fashion, sports (since sport events often took place on Sundays and took time from church) and card games (related to gambling and a drunken lifestyle) were among things I avoided and looked down upon, a mindset I inherited from my parents. But I had a pure desire to keep my heart pure. But needless to say I was quite a boring person. In my own opinion. The group I was hanging out with as a teenager was nicknamed “the Quiet Club” by others, not so quiet teenagers. I was not the life of the party. At all. Quite the opposite. I was more like the killer of the life of any party. People would feel a little guilty when I was showing up anywhere. I was Little-Miss-Following-All the-Rules-and-Doing-Everything-Right kind of girl. And I did not like myself very much. I felt like I was failing all the time.

When I went off to college in Stockholm I bumped into a crazy crowd on my way to the subway that was part of the Vineyard. We all lived in the same student dorm. I started hanging out with these people and going to church with them. This was in 1995 and we experienced a wave of spiritual renewal in the church, lovingly called “the Toronto Blessing” since it started in Toronto, Canada, and then spread like a wildfire all over the world. We had bus loads of people coming from all over Sweden and other places to visit Stockholm Vineyard that turned into a hub for this outpouring. We spent Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday mornings and Sunday nights in church, plus Tuesday nights we had small group and in between we were hanging out at the student dorm. It might have been the best time of my life. Sometimes we had to put one of our friends on a cart and pull them out of church since they couldn’t walk. The power of the Holy Spirit was literally so heavy upon them. There was a lot of laughing and shaking and physical manifestations caused by the Spirit. I did a lot of crying in this season. Good crying. Purifying crying. The-Holy-Spirit-is-touching-your-heart-in-a-deep-deep -way kind of crying. I got rid of a lot of religious thinking. The rule following mindset. I experienced a new freedom and joy in the Lord. Enjoyment. I’m really thankful for that time in my life that marked me forever.

I stayed in Stockholm for 10 years. I ended up dragging out a teacher education that was supposed to take 4,5 years to a ten year ordeal. I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to be a teacher. Actually I was quite sure I did not want to be a teacher but I wanted to finish what I had started. I kept taking sabbaticals and worked full-time for a few months, then did a Bible school, then another discipleship school in the countryside of Sweden, then served in a soup kitchen among Native Americans in Canada, then I moved to Portugal where I finally finished my degree, while helping my aunt running her non-profit humanitarian foundation for a couple of years. The weekend after I moved back to Sweden from Portugal I met my husband, so within a few months I had relocated to Charlotte, North Carolina.

With all that to say, I’ve always felt like the queen of procrastination. I’ve lived my life slow, with a lot of roundabout ways. I’m not sure if I’ve necessarily missed the point and my true calling. Probably not. It’s not been a straight shot but more like a deep digging in spirals. Turning 50 was significant for me for some reason. It’s like I’ve entered my golden era. I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s a shift in my mind. I’ve entered Jubilee season. The other day I found out that some oak trees don’t produce their first acorn until they’re 50 years old. Talk about late bloomers! That’s so encouraging to me. I want to be like an oak tree. Giving shade to others. Growing strong, majestic, unshakable, independent, with my roots deep in the ground. Bearing fruit in due time. There we go. Late bloomers unite. I’m in good company. Me and the oaks.

To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.

Isaiah 61:3