A difficult age of complication, confusion and the cross

What people never tell you is that 22 is hard. Maybe the closest anyone got was telling you it's happy, free, confusing and lonely -- at the same time. And that there is some amount of dancing involved, if you have any hope of getting through it. But not many people ever come right out and say it, so I'm going to: Being 22 is hard.

Life is starting to take shape and, faced with so many decisions that seem like they will determine my life and who I become, I feel as if I have to know everything about myself, if what I think I want is what I actually want, and, if not, then what do I want? And, if so, how do I actually know it's what I want and not just what I think I want?

I'm not yet old enough to realize I'm not old. I don't yet have the patient wisdom to tell me that everything doesn't have to happen right now. There are so many decisions to make, and each one involves sacrifices, each one could turn my life a different way. I stand frozen, terrified.

My mom told me that every age is hard, that we never have it all figured out. I think she's probably right.

One of the ways I sometimes pray is to imagine Jesus hanging on the cross, or sometimes the Eucharist held in the air. I hold the image in my mind, looking at him and letting him look back at me. The other night as I lay awake, unable to sleep, questions flew around in my mind and uncertainty clouded my senses, making me feel hopeless. I imagined Jesus hanging on the cross.

"This is hard," I told him. The words passed through my mind as I envisioned his bloodied face wearing the crown of thorns and he looked up at me, and I suddenly understood for the first time what I've always thought I knew, what other people have always said: He understands. Hanging on a cross is hard.

He hung there and hangs there so he can suffer in solidarity with us. He is with us, in every sense of the word, not only physically present around and within us, but also experiencing our suffering, his suffering. He is faithful.

Jesus hung on the cross completely drained. In my absolute lack, in my faithlessness, in my exhaustion, when I feel as if I am nothing and cannot give anything, when I don't know what to choose or where to go and could care less if I go anywhere, this, ironically, is when God has something to work with, when he can finally come in. Being 22, being any age with its complications, having questions, yearning for the ancient to illuminate the new, maybe the new to illuminate the ancient, maybe both, standing tired and waiting, sick of having all the answers, yearning for some -- here is our solace: Look to the cross.