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And for that promise, I am thankful

Monday, November 24, 2014

So kid 1 had a friend over not long ago.... all day..... a friend that came with his own music.  That played non stop and before long it all started to sound alike to me.  Remember the episode of I Love Lucy where little Ricky was forever practicing the same beats on his drum and Lucy almost lost her mind?  It was pretty much like that.

And at one point as the same electro pop tune had gone on for at least an hour, and they sang along, I decided that I could either ask nicely for them to turn the volume down and embarrass my son.  Or I could just go on in there and start dancing and see how long they stick around.  And again, embarrass my son. 

And he will be glad to report to you that I actually did neither.  Because.  Just because.  For many  reasons actually. 

When I was teaching middle school, ages ago but not forgotten, I remember every year thinking how awful unpleasant the 8th grade boys were.  And not any kid in particular, but as a general species.  And how my classroom across the hall from the boys bathroom was a big battle of the sexes for me to fight every day.   And how it would just do the world a big favor if at that special time of life, every 14 year old boy could move to a deserted island and live like the savages that they are.  Like in Lord of the Flies. Where kids who had exposure to culture and learning right from wrong basically reverted to a primitive state and ate each other alive.  Or something like that. 

And with that long and drawn out intro... here is my real Thanksgiving post this year.    And not the usual list of things going altogether right.  Which, some are.  Thankfully.  Because God always keeps a hand on us when we feel like we're floating away.  And because in all honesty, I can't sit down and write a tell all post where everything is just peachy.  Because someday some searching heart is going to read this looking for hope in raising teens and find a big fat liar on the loose.  On the loose and on her computer screen acting like she knows how to do everything.  Which I don't.  Kinda like when I tried one time to make my husband's favorite lemon ice box pie and he hurt my feelings after a bite or two and said the crust was mushy.  Or whatever.  Living proof right there that I can't raise a teen or make a pie. 

And I really have no problem flying my giant flag of weakness for everyone to see.  Because when I wave that flag for help... read the words again from a few lines back,..... God always keeps a hand on us when we feel like we're floating away. 

Y'all, yesterday I parked myself in front of husband's fire station and had him meet me outside so I could cry and let someone other than me see the tears. Right then and there, staring parenthood in the face again,  .... and admitting that it just doesn't look like what I planned.

Because being the mom of a teenager trying to find his way either in or out of our bonds of love around here is making for some sad times for me.  Because for a mom that has put everything I know how into the last 14 years to grow a responsible, loving, caring, blooming - into - something - beautiful young man, sometimes it seems things aren't going as planned.

And things could be worse.  I know.  I really do know.  And there is my thankfulness.  Because we aren't dealing with secret lives or hidden behaviors or so many other things parents have to deal with so often.  I think we're mostly dealing with a young man and a family at a crossroads.  Crossing paths somewhere between finding yourself and losing yourself at the same time.  On the road to who you are becoming.

And there's that word again that I know I've used before.  Becoming.  And I guess at the same time -  so am I  - becoming all new as the terrain changes around here.  And I'm trying to figure out how to be a mom to a young man in transition.  Lost somewhere in space and time between being a boy and a young man.  

And I have to turn to grace for this one.  Grace for the tears that I cry as I miss the little boy that used to be mine.  And grace in an all new form as I learn to love the young man that he is becoming. And the beautiful gift of grace that I have the opportunity to make of this time of life what I choose.  Tears and all. 

Knowing that every tear clears the hurt and sadness from my heart, allowing God to erase my own vision of what being a mom is supposed to look like.  While waiting for all the pieces of a bigger plan to come together into the big reveal of a new person.  

 Corinthians 2:9 

But as Scripture says:
“No eye has seen,
    no ear has heard,
        and no mind has imagined
            the things that God has prepared
                for those who love him.”

And for that promise, I am thankful. 


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