A friend of mine is currently struggling through the early
phases of a season of parenting known as oh-God-help-me-I-have-a-teenager-who-hates-me
syndrome (AKA: adolescence).
The symptoms of OGHMIHATWHM syndrome are mostly exhibited by
the child in question and encompass a great deal of eye rolling, moodiness, heavy
sighs, general apathy, and extreme embarrassment at the very existence of her
mother.
In her case, it is also accompanied by an equally as
horrendous case of oh-dear-God-my-teenage-daughter-has-a-boyfriend syndrome (ODGMTHAB)
and this particular affliction causes symptoms mostly exhibited in the parent
in question such as hyperventilation, paranoia, headaches, ulcers, anxious
prayers, irrational thinking, heavy drinking, and general desperation. Concurrent
symptoms exist with the child in question and include declining grades, hours
in front of the mirror, hair flipping, thumb strain (from texting), and starry
eyes.
I've spent a lot of time with my friend lately and have observed
the whole thing unfold before her horrified eyes. Just a few minutes ago, she
held this wiggly infant girl in a swaddled bundle and looked adoringly at her,
never dreaming this moment would come. Now, off she rockets into the world,
leaving her fretting mother in her wake. Just listen, child… I have so much
to tell you. There is so much you have to learn for what's ahead of you.
I look at my oldest son, who will himself cross over that coveted
13th birthday this summer, breaking the rite-of-passage marathon tape and probably
hurdling me headlong into my own case of OGHMIHATWHM. These two babies used to
play together, watched cartoons and toddled around in diapered butts together,
but now they're walking time-bombs… pimpled monsters of their own making. And I'm
about to join the ranks of shell-shocked parents everywhere, looking longingly
at their infant children dangling car keys and squealing out of sight.
So, there's that. (Cheers.)
Being the still cool and collected outsider in the whole
debacle has given me a bit of perspective and unfortunately, a clear view into
the mirror. I'm a few decades past my own eye-rolling, pimple-popping,
boy-swooning days but I imagine, in God's eyes, I haven't grown up all that
much.
Here's my loving parent, walking me through life with
compassion and grace, teaching me, guiding me, giving me wisdom for every situation,
and here I am, rolling my eyes at His ways, smacking my gum and trying
desperately to go my own way.
I know He's immune to the paranoid delusion that accompanies
parenting teenagers, but I wonder still if I wound His heart with my rebellion…
if my desperate attempts at being liked by others, at seeking after my own
happiness whether it's good for me or not causes Him grief… or as Anne Lamott
says, "makes Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish."
When He longs for me to turn my heart to His, I flip my hair
and roll my eyes and pick up my cell phone to text a friend. When His book of
wisdom sits collecting dust, I whine to my friends about my troubles, simple unable
to imagine a way out of the mess I've made of things. He stands waiting in the
wings and I turn my back in rebellion to find my independence, to make my own
way.
My friend's daughter will grow out of it. They'll find their
footing in the awkward stage of adolescence and eventually, she'll be grateful
for her mom's tireless presence in the midst of her toughest years. Or at
least, she'll need a ride to the mall.
But I wonder if I'll ever grow out of it. Will I ever draw
close enough to my Father's heart that my own ways don't glitter with intrigue?
Will I ever grow out of the awkward dance of being young enough to still need
Him but not always wanting Him in charge?
Father, forgive me for my spiritual adolescence, for
needing you and wanting your gifts, but chasing after my own ways. Help me to
have faith like a child but the wisdom of maturity to hold tight to your hand
when my desires lead me astray.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Your comments are such an encouragement. Thank you for sharing your valuable words.