You Are Mine

Do not be afraid, I am with you
I have called you each by name
Come and follow Me
I will bring you home
I love you and you are mine
~ " You Are Mine" by David Haas

The bond between a parent and child can seem one-sided at times. Typically, that seems to occur when our children hit the teen years. Though we have been warned by other parents dozens of times, it still comes as a surprise.

We the parents (a.k.a. Rule Makers and Enforcers) are seen as the enemy. And it's easy for that poor, disadvantaged teen to take out their stress from school "drama" and the mountains of homework on us. Either a sullen attitude or sarcastic tone. We are on the receiving end. And it's not fair.

Not that we didn't do the same, right?

I see a mini-Me in my son and know this is just the beginning of what could be the typical battle between teens and parents. I have to remember this is just a phase, albeit a long one. And that deep down he loves us -- even if he doesn't run to me and jump in my arms for a hug like he did when he was 3.

Probably wouldn't work now since he's 4 inches taller than me. But I miss those mutual displays of unconditional love.

Still, without fail, I give him a kiss on the head while he's eating his cereal in the morning and tell him I love him on my way out the door. Sometimes he'll answer with a grunt, other times a "yup," and once in awhile a "you too!"

I'll take what I can get and treasure it.

And remember not to take it for granted.

I attended a funeral for an 18-year-old boy today. He was the older brother of one of "my girls" from our summer mission trip to the Ozarks. The death came as a shock so there was an abundance of grief, anger and guilt felt by my girl and the other survivors.

Still, she didn't fall apart in my arms when I hugged her. And still, more than half a dozen friends found courage to get up and share special memories of their buddy. Some sobbing uncontrollably as they did so, but determined that the hundreds in attendance would now how special this boy was.

Needless to say, I was bawling through much of it. Feeling a touch of the heart-breaking sorrow I imagine I would experience as a grieving sister or, Lord help me, as a parent. Add to that, some raw emotions floating near the surface since my dad's passing and I was pretty much an emotional wreck. But I was the lucky one who still could go home to her son.

At the end of the service, they played a recording of one of my favorite hymns, "You Are Mine." This song always brings a tear of joy and sorrow at the same time. When I hear it I am often reminded of a scene in the book The Shack, when the main character questions how God could love the man who killed his daughter. And God reminds him that we are each one of His children. Sometimes we are bad (or have an attitude or lie or disrespect our parents), but He still loves us. Unconditionally. Forever.

Just as we as parents love our children no matter how difficult they make it some days.

And I wouldn't trade it for the world. Especially after today.

Do not be afraid, son. I am with you. I love you and you are mine.