I wonder if it’s bad to look back at your rowdy days with fondness and pride. I wish it weren’t so.
From ages 13 to 17, I did a lot of improper and even bad things, some I may never share with my daughter. I recently reconnected with one of my then-buddies’ little sisters, which suddenly brought back memories I hadn’t thought about for years, and it surprised me how nostalgic I became. For all the pains that accompany that time of life, I actually had a lot of fun. I’ve never chronicled those exploits with more than a couple of bite-sized references, and was tempted to submit an entry on my own blog, recounting in detail some of the more colorful tales to illustrate how far I’d come since I converted. I was dissuaded by a friend, however, who warned that some things should just stay in the past, or at least not be plastered online.
It started me thinking, though. Are we supposed to eschew all happy thoughts regarding delinquencies and transgressions– does true conversion require that benchmark? If this is the case, perhaps I’m not truly converted. I know that, although I’ve repented of my past misdeeds and have never been tempted to repeat them, I’m not ashamed of them (maybe a little embarrassed by a couple). I mean, it’s been 32 years. How sackcloth-and-ashes does one have to get?