When I was 8, 18 was everything. 18 was the age I would be treated as an adult. 18 was the age glorified by the media, by tradition. 18 was between 16 and 21. It was the official end of childhood and the beginning of probationary adulthood. You could still have fun at 18. But you could have adult fun if you wanted. And no, that does not mean shady things. I meant adult fun like museums, road trips and dinner parties.
When I was 8, 18 seemed like a far-off matter.
When I was 8, 18 would be the time I know what I was supposed to do in this world. 18 would see me in a big, fancy university, studying with geniuses, lugging around large textbooks and discussing serious, grown-up things with professors in round glasses and grey, Einstein hair. These professors would be wearing white lab coats, all the time.
When I was 8, 18 seemed to be a fascinating world of socializing, parties and friends. No, I knew at 8 years old that I would never be one of them, clubbing their days away and drinking beer. But I did imagine at 8 that 18-year-old Jess would have a respectful, honourable but distant relationship with her family. Of course, Hollywood said so, right? At 18, you moved out. At 18, you had your own car, your own apartment, and definitely no parental supervision. What's not to love? 18 seemed like a darn great time.
When I was 8, 18 was the time where I would grow out of Bible stories. Stories about Noah, Abraham and Moses would be a vague, distant childhood memory. My parents singing "Jesus Loves Me" as a sweet lullaby would be stored away in a warm, fuzzy treasure chest at the back of my mind. The nights I spent writing Scripture verses in my little "memory verse" notebook at 8 years old would be a piece of cake compared to the science and math formulas I knew I had to memorize at 18.
But then, 18 happened to me this year.
18 sees me in university; at least that part is true. 18 makes me realize that I've advanced further in studies compared to my peers. Yet 18 has put me in humbling situations again, and again, and again. I did not meet professors with grey hair and white lab coats. Instead, I meet lecturers who are filmmakers, linguists and doctors. I meet lecturers who are activists, believers and single parents. I meet real-life people. And boy, do I learn a lot from them.
18 brings me close to my family. 8-year-old Jess loved her parents. 18-year-old Jess loves, respects and admires her parents more than ever. 8-year-old Jess played with her brother. But 18-year-old Jess shared thoughts, had debates, held conversations and conveyed deep feelings with her brother. 18-year-old Jess lives with her family, eats with them every day, and even works with them -- and it's ever so amazing. So warm, so loved, so secure. A huge part of me dreads leaving home one day.
And finally, 18 grows a faith in me I could never have imagined. 18 helps me to understand the importance of Noah, Abraham, Moses and their heroic stories. 18 still sings "Jesus loves me, this I know," because it's true. And 18-year-old Jess is ever thankful that the Word of God remains in a deep memory that is difficult to get rid of. 18 is a year of spiritual growth, a year of gratitude and a year of taking my faith seriously.
When I was 8, I imagined 18 to be full of knowledge, freedom and self-reliance.
But when 18 came around... 8 was proven wrong.