With great knowledge comes great responsibility. And terror. And helplessness, foolishness, and terrible uncertainty as well. Oh yes, and there's a bit of power involved, too.
You see, there's a bit more to that quote(or twistation of a quote...I just write these things as they come) then you see. You know, because you have to read between the lines? Or the letters? Or just make up the first thing that comes to mind and forever associate something meaningless to something that should have great meaning, because you were young and foolish? Or, you could write run-on sentences like I do, and ramble about until you reach some sort of conclusion about something in your life.
No, this time, I am sadly serious. Morbidly, in fact. Those who know have the greatest burden of all, and I am afraid that I am beginning to understand it. You see, it is a privilege to know, but also a great curse as well. You begin to understand things about people, and your view of them changes. If you're not careful, the relationship breaks - all because you know something. You see, when we know the problems of others, it becomes far too easy to wonder why they have so many problems, and wonder why it must be so complicated. I begin to wonder why they have so many troubles in comparison to me, as my life suddenly seems perfect next to theirs. But, of course, it doesn't really work that way. We only gain perspective, as twisted as it might be, by viewing others through our rose-colored glasses.(Though I myself fancy I view others through grass-colored glasses; they're cheaper. Depression Era glass!)
Then, as we view those around us, we begin to know them. This happens especially as we grow up and revelations of things that have happened in our childhood come upon us. For instance, today I realized that an incident in my childhood might not have been my fault. In a class which I enjoyed, I suppose the teacher thought I was getting a little too high up - helping the others and so on. She had me sit out for a time, which was the ultimate shame. No one ever sat for a timeout until they had done something dreadful. I, being a normal child, thought it was my fault, and commenced to become the model(Or close to model, I guess. I don't tend toward perfection, as the second law of Maryodynamics states.) student, and do all things right, and never, ever seek to usurp the teacher's role in the classroom.
Lo and behold today, as I was talking with my mother about the teacher, she revealed something that she had noticed about the teacher - the fact that she was a bit of a control freak. (Enter ray of sunshine hitting me face, light bulb effect, all that wonderful stuff) I realized that I might have been simply trying to help, and not be a "teacher", and that she probably overreacted. An adult made a mistake, and I suffered. What a revelation!
Why? Because, as a child, you believe that adults are perfect, especially Mother and Father. They are always right, and if you are punished, it is probably because you did something wrong. Not them. They are NEVER at fault. That goes against the rules of a child's heart, as their minds are not functional in that sort of way at that time. Oh, certainly the child will harbor resentment toward the adult, but the truth of the matter is, they will nearly always assign blame to themselves. At least, I would. Perhaps I was an abnormal child, but I don't fancy myself that way, so I don't think so.
It is perhaps one of the biggest surprises in growing up, in beginning to view parents as respected older ones, and not as absolute gods. You see things, gain knowledge. Then, one day, you come to the horrible realization that your parents, however amazing they might be, are not perfect. In fact, they are far from it. It becomes hard, then, because you must view your parents as people, not some higher being you styled them as in your mind.
After that, all sorts of knowledge comes, and with that knowledge come a series of hard choices. These are the teenage years, and they are difficult. One is becoming the person they will be for perhaps the rest of their lives. And these years are riddled with discomfort and painful truths.
I suppose it's a wonder we all don't have more problems, but as one who sees through grass-colored glasses, I try desperately not to judge. I do not want to be judged - or worse, known - as I am, but more as I want to become. It is never too late to change, and God knows that better than I ever will.
So, after all, I am safe in the knowledge that God knows it all. If He can handle all that and still manage to be my heavenly Father, then I think I can trust him with the things I know, whether I'd rather know them or not.
Who else could I go to? Who else would even understand?
Yeah. I know.
~Fumble
