teenagers

Pleaaaassseeeee rinse and put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher! I pleaded yesterday, thousandth time. Putting dirty dishes in the sink says, "here, mom, you do it." 

Without missing a beat, sass-teen snorts "That's exactly what I MEANT it to say."

Too closely following a Saturday morning ordeal over "never/no screens upstairs" violation, I packed up the little three and headed to Lady Janes.

It was easier when she was next door. 

Nora asked me a few days ago if we hadn't had that unplanned emergency sleepover two years ago now that turned us into a family of 9, would we still live next to Lady Jane. 

Probably.

Lord knew. Lord knows. There have been lots of sacrifices this life worth their weight, and more I'll see the worth of one day, heaven-side. 

Into a dark, quiet-quiet house my three exploded, home away from home, and Lady Jane sat in a cheery yellow sweater and caught me up on life. Emma raided her toy cabinet while Ben and Nora found the chocolate and resumed a back-yard game.

After we talked about health and grandkids, I told her these four teenagers were killing me, and she did what she always does. Listened. Agreed. Told me a story from her life. Gave me a hug.

Lady Jane's daughter is one of our favorite people on earth. She thinks of others and loves BIG and gives continually. Everyone who knows her says the same. She would and DOES do anything for anyone with such a gracious spirit. She's come to the new church two Sunday afternoons already to see us and hear Matt preach, and I KNOW she doesn't have time for that! 

But turns out a very, very long time ago (I'm calling you out, Suzu :), 8th - 12th grade, there wasn't a thing Lady Jane could say without a sassy response, years, even, that LJ says they could barely have a conversation. Oh, she was SUCH a pill, Lady Jane chuckled yesterday shaking her head, remembering, and then told me how come college, all Suzu wanted to do was come home and be dear friends...a lifetime of sweet love and friendship so apparent to us all. 

After Ben snuggled chocolate onto that sunshine sweater and Emma had three bye-bye kisses, we headed back to my moody teens yesterday afternoon to get ready for teen #2's party, and I felt SO. MUCH. BETTER.

She didn't fix anything.

But her story and her testimony and the testimony of Suzu gave me such hope. 

These girls are NOT gonna kill me, though some days I swear they are trying. 

When the house was full of incredibly loud and awkward teens last night, I cut ice cream cake and smiled from the background, trying not to be embarrassing. 

I wish I could call my mom and be her friend.  I wish I could call dad, like I got accustomed to doing the last 20 years when I missed mom, and tell him what a mess, and he could remind me mom and I were, too.  

And he'd tell me again that these teenage girls--two my blood and four my heart--they're supposed to be a mess. They're supposed to be pills. They're supposed to be hormonal and dramatic and difficult and lazy and stubborn. They're on the teenage rollercoaster, but that rollercoaster is IN His hands, and I'm supposed to be at the bottom, a firm foundation and safe place for drama...holding their bags and stupid Stanley's and refusing to ride and pointing to Jesus. 

Two brothers in our church lost their mama a week ago today, and as I hugged one of them this morning, he said dazedly, "I know I'm grown, but my dad died when I was four and I guess it really hurts I'm like an orphan now."

I get that. 

But we're not.

As long as there are Lady Janes and Gaga's and Aunt Sharons, as long as there are Ana's and Lori's and Suzu's and Betsy's and Dawn's and so so many others in the Body of Christ, filling the gaps, we're just NOT. 

Not alone. Not orphans.

Not defeated. Not dying slow deaths by teenagers. 

Praise the Lord He's given us each other to fortify. 

I want to walk close enough to Him to be pointing to Jesus and His strength and courage, like Lady Jane does, without even trying.  

Grateful for you.