BY KAREN SPRUILL

OR THE PAST FOUR YEARS I'VE LIVED about 45 miles west of Cape Canaveral, Florida. I can easily view Kennedy Space Center shuttle and commercial launches from our backyard. We also have several relatives who work at the Cape, and they have provided us with security passes to view launches from a short distance of several miles. All of this has conjured up childhood memories of viewing similar launches in front of our black-and-white TV sets, hundreds of miles away. I will never forget the impact of viewing astronauts making history--the good and the bad.

So now my mission is to observe the launches in person whenever I get the opportunity. Nighttime or early-morning launches are my favorites as the rocket fuel slowly ignites the eastern sky with a glowing ball. During a cloudless daytime launch I love watching the vapor trail that makes unique pastel cloud patterns in the sky. It's my job to pray for the astronauts as they take off into space and pull away from the earth's gravity. I created a routine in which I turn the TV to the local news channel as the final countdown begins, usually around "T-minus two minutes and counting." With one eye on the TV, through the family room window I can see the shuttle lift off. I then turn toward our backyard lake with my binoculars ready. I don't breathe a sigh of relief until the booster rockets have fired and made that last big push into outer space. Usually I forget about the particular mission until their return some days or weeks later, which is heralded by a tremendous sonic boom. Then I remember: the astronauts are home safe!

A Special Summer
Two summers ago we experienced life on the launching pad, with five or six twentysomethings arriving in our home with a boom! We had hosted that many young people before during spring breaks, but never for so long. Because of some mysterious planetary alignment, or more likely the failure of several bank accounts, and several internship opportunities, our houseguests include our own two children, several girlfriends, a fiancé, and a passing-through boyfriend: ages 19, 20, 21, 23, and 27. Call it our mission project or our madness, but we have had some guests for three months, one for seven weeks, one starting a first grown-up job, and one awaiting her wedding next year. The bedrooms have been full, and the dining room was converted into a bedroom. We are parking five vehicles, plus one motorcycle, and one refrigerator is constantly at critical mass. I implore everyone, "Drive safely, and don't bring home leftovers from restaurants!"

Each evening before going to bed we work on the flight plans and designate the morning pilots. One person works on the west side of town, three near downtown, and three on the eastside. Some leave for work at 6:30, 7:00, 7:30, and 8:00 a.m. They return at 4:00 or 5:00, 5:30, 6:00, and 6:30 p.m.

Some of us attend early church service, some go to second service, some do not attend church regularly, and Dad is seriously on call at his hospital. The dog is often the only one I can really count on for a regular schedule. But even she has made some adjustments. Sometimes she gets her regular two walks a day, sometimes one, sometimes three.

Sharing the bathrooms, the kitchen, the newspaper, two televisions, and the washing machine gets a little tricky. The guests sometimes make cookies at midnight, have breakfast at 10:00 or 11:00, and supper appears anywhere from 5:00 to 11:00 p.m. They wash clothes at any time. Just when I am craving a leftover--it has disappeared. Three of us prefer to eat vegetarian, four are carnivores, one eats low carb, one high carb, one eats everything that isn't bolted down, one forgets to eat, and one is trying to decide how to eat. When I buy groceries, I'm sure the clerks are stretching their imaginations: What kind of schizophrenic household buys hamburger; Grillers; skim, 2 percent, and soy milk; nonsugared cereal and doughnuts; veggies; fruit; gourmet brown rice; ice cream; and vital wheat gluten?

I'm trying to learn to appreciate skateboarding, video games, SpongeBob SquarePants cartoons, trips to Starbucks for "Cappy Hour," and taking a number to get online for my e-mail messages. I am also reminded that these people will soon be responsible for managing the world. However, I have found the bathroom window open, the oven left on, the front door unlocked, and grunge on the stove. Faithful assistants do help with cleaning--often the dishwasher gets loaded, the lawn mowed, and one guest vacuums the family room couch thoroughly.

If we ever wondered about life in a large family, we're getting our opportunity. On some days we dance around each other in the kitchen, push together in the living room, and try to find an empty bathroom. We all lack for a bit of privacy or a good place to cry. All three couples occasionally seem peeved with their partners. However, we are celebrating another engagement announcement (both of our children in one year). I insist that this is a good precursor for marriage or any kind of teamwork or human relations. I think we are all learning that we sometimes lack consistency. Some of us are impatient about little things, yet willing to endure for the sake of us all. Maturity waxes and wanes--even for those age 50.

I have struggled with biting my sore tongue, wondering if I should offer suggestions for life and relationship management. I'm tempted to say: "You'd probably get a job faster if you got up before 10; you'd probably feel better about yourself if you didn't eat half a pizza and a box of garlic rolls; you'd be amazed at how nice your clothes look when they aren't lying on the floor," etc. But mostly I try to listen, learn, cook a little, buy groceries, and imagine how quiet it will be someday. This may be one of those last chances to influence, to share, to love--to make a difference.

I used to think that a major goal in life, as a woman and mother, was to safely get my children to age 18 or 21 so they could take care of themselves, vote, do service for their country, marry, procreate--hopefully in that order. However, no one adequately warned me about this very special age when your children are finally, officially, legally . . . somewhere between adolescence and adulthood.

As I talk with other parents in my age group, we see our children struggling to define themselves on so many levels. We wonder--Where did we go wrong? Should we have given them more direction, or less direction? The roles and expectations for life seemed much clearer 25 years ago. We finished college in four years, and we were married at age 21. Our parents' generation was expected to hit the ground running at age 18. My 77-year-old father snorts at some of the kids' dilemmas and declares, "I was farming three farms when I was 23!"

I do know that parenting is a lifetime commitment that, somewhat like our anatomy, simply changes shape over time. A wise woman in my church says: "When they are little, you pray with them. When they get older, you pray for them." As a parent I am in need of prayer as much now as when my emerging adults were toddlers walking toward a hot stove. My prayer partners are praying me along. And I see answers to prayer in the lives of our houseguests as they fine-tune mission control for their career interests, the quest for God, and their choice for life mates.

Emerging Adults
I've always found it somewhat reassuring to read developmental material as my children have entered new ages and stages. But the selection seems to get mighty thin after the teen years. At least one psychologist has been researching people in the years between ages 18 and 25, a period that Jeffrey Jensen Arnett refers to as Emerging Adulthood (American Psychologist, May 2000, "Emerging Adulthood," Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, pp. 469-479).* He has proposed a new theory of development for this age group, citing many of my own observations. Arnett says that people in this age period see themselves as "gradually making their way into adulthood," hence the term emerging adulthood. In industrialized societies where marriage and parenthood have been delayed, emerging adulthood is noted as a time of "relative independence from social roles and from normative expectations." The emerging adults are still very busy exploring their options, pursuing higher education in fits and starts, and coping with identity issues.

One of their few defining characteristics is the highest rate of residential change of any age group (don't I know it!). About one third of them leave home to attend college after high school. But in the following years, living arrangements are diverse, often combining independent living and reliance on adults. In Europe and the United States, autonomy and relatedness are complementary aspects of parent/child relationships for emerging adults.

Arnett provides us with new age divisions: adolescence from 10 to 18, emerging adulthood from 18 to 25, while the term young adulthood is best applied to those in their 30s. The majority of people ages 18 to 25 are not married, nor do they have children. The transition to young adulthood "intensifies" during the late 20s, although it may begin much earlier for some people.

So Arnett's theory has helped me to see that because my emerging adults do not follow the same patterns in life that their parents and grandparents experienced does not necessarily equate to character deficiencies, lack of initiative, or lack of faith. We're talking about major societal, economic, and educational changes. The family's abiding love and the church's understanding are challenged as well.

What else can we learn from an age group that, by nature, defies description? As we plan for church growth and evangelism, we can be aware that the emerging adults actively pursue novel and intense experiences. Risky behaviors peak during this time. And except for the elderly, those aged 19 to 29 spend more of their leisure time alone than other people do. Emerging adults may especially respond to the mentoring and affirmations that nonparental adults can offer to them. We can all help them to see that they are living in a time of possibility and promise.

Last year I sent my son an e-mail of encouragement in which I reminded him of the many kinds of fruit and how they yield at differing times. Here in Florida we are aware that strawberries, oranges, lemons, grapefruit, and kumquats all ripen on their own schedules. I quoted Psalm 1:1-3: "Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither" (NIV).

One of the fruits of this summer is my renewed empathy for the big issues that our children face in deciding upon college courses, life partners, worldviews, and careers. Recently one of the emerging adults in my congregation stopped by my office to chat. She is discouraged about her senior year in college and doesn't see a clear career path. I listened, asked her questions, and then pronounced that she was developmentally on target. "Really?" she asked incredulously. "All my friends seem to know what they will be doing. I thought I was the only one who was lost." I passed along the name of a good counselor near her campus, challenged her to remain curious about careers and life, and then we prayed together. I also plan to check with her during holidays and campus breaks this year.

Life Is a Mission
Waving goodbye to our summer guests, I recalled the week when we first moved to Florida. Our children were with us for just a few days; then they returned to Michigan for jobs and school. On one of the days before we actually could move into our new home, our family decided to tour the Kennedy Space Center. As I stood next to my almost grown-up children on the top of a tower viewing the grounds, buildings, and launch sites, I was struck with the analogy of our lives. Several days later the kids left my husband and me, launching into a part of life without us. I was distraught for days, not clear about my new mission without children. I mourned for them while they were out of sight. About the time that I was adjusting to life without children, one returned. She left the next year, and returned the following. We lived without our son for four years, and now he has returned. The four of us are back in the same home together, for refueling and mission adjustments.

In another year I realize that we will probably experience several major launches. The "mission crews" of parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles will gather for ceremonies and celebrations. And yet we need to be prepared for announcements that a flight may be scrubbed or rescheduled because of technical difficulties or bad weather. Some flights will be aborted, some may blow up in our faces, and some will return early. But I am clear that it is still my job to pray for the astronauts.

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* Jeffrey Jensen Arnett is author of Adolescence and Emerging Adulthood: A Cultural Approach (Prentice Hall, 2000).

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Karen Spruill is a former assistant editor of Insight magazine and small groups coordinator at the Florida Hospital church. She lives in Orlando with her husband, Tim, and their emerging adults, Zach and Lauren.