My daughter, Tammy, acts like a typical teenager. She thinks she's smarter than her
parents. Cute guys capture her attention. And she flexes her legs while cheerleading with
her girlfriends, chanting, "No more toys, toys, toys, give me boys, boys, boys!"
When we drive past a shopping mall, her head locks onto the stores like a radar dish
tracking a rocket launch.
She understands -- better than her mother, of course -- which fashions are appropriate
for today's girls. And she knows how to wiggle her eyebrows and smile coyly to charm her
favorite guy into giving her exactly what she wants.
Thank goodness she's only seven and her favorite guy is her father.
I wonder if this is a preview of her teenage years and God is using it to prepare me
for what's ahead. He always prepares us for the future, although rarely do we recognize it
until we look back through time.
How much happier we parents would be if God left a message on our answering machines.
He could say, "When your daughter's 13, she's going to listen to the wrong kids and
sneak off to the mall to flex her legs near some guys, and to help you handle it the right
way, I'm going to give you some training on how to communicate with teenagers."
God is rarely so obvious. Even if He were, my answering machine would probably record,
"Your daughter is going to the mall to train teenagers."
I'd assume God didn't know what He was talking about, since, at age seven, Tammy has no
way to get to the mall except by me or her father. Then I'd surmise that the message was
really about her babysitter.
By the time I'd invite the babysitter to the mall, Tammy would have asked me a question
about choosing the right friends, but I'd say, "Later, dear, because I'm trying to
figure out why God wants us to take your babysitter to the mall -- perhaps to evangelize
her?"
I would have just missed a lesson on communication.
If only we could know in advance what God was up to. Since fortune telling is not His
cup of tea, as He says in Scriptures, I can't expect Him to lay out all the cards and tell
me what's in my future. I can't even guess what, why or how He's training me. I have to
trust Him.
Yikes! Blind trust can be scary. But I wonder if it's as scary as finding out my
13-year-old is flexing her legs at the mall.
Someday, when Tammy's on the other side of adolescence, I'll be able to see how God
trained me for it. And if I've learned from His lessons, I may have actually enjoyed her
teen years.
God said in Jeremiah 29, "I know the plans I have for you, plans for good, not
disaster."
Fine. But I still wish He'd leave a hint on my answering machine.
