Terrible Two's or Terrible Teens?

I know you have heard of the Terrible Two's. Maybe it's time to talk to my Mom about that two-year-old phase, but I imagine if I was ever a terrible two my Mom doesn't remember it that way. Mom's are like that, you know!

It isn't my intent to tell very many sad stories because I want this blog to be fun and uplifting. But sometimes sad experiences and the memories of them are very valuable in our lives. Those are the times when we learn the greatest lessons. And those are the times that can help us grow and mature if we pay attention.

In many ways, my teenage life (I was 17 in this picture) was very difficult. That was partly because of the things that happened to impact my life and it was partly the way that I chose to deal with the circumstances and events that marked that time of my life. But it wasn't all bad, either. God loved and cared for me all of my life -- even when I was being a terrible teen.

On July 2, 1956 I became a teenager. That was pretty exciting to me. One nice thing that happened to me was that my Grammie Muriel had her little ruby put in a pretty ring setting and gave it to me. I couldn't imagine that she would do such a wonderful thing for me and I was very proud of that ring. (It burned in a house fire on another birthday in 1963).

On November 8 of that same year, our Dad was killed in a trucking accident. He and Grammie Ruth had been married just under 14 1/2 years. My Mom was a widow at 34. She had me (13), Aunt Carla (7), Uncle Brian (6), and Uncle Clifford (4). This was a tremendous shock to everyone, but especially to my Mom.

A few weeks before my father was killed in that accident he told me that he really believed he was not going to be around much longer. His own Dad had died at 42 and he thought he wouldn't live past that age. He asked me to promise him something and I did. I promised your great grandfather -- my father -- that I would never do anything to hurt my Mom. "She will be hurt enough," my Dad said. And I took that to heart.

And so when he died, I placed myself in charge of doing everything I could to help Mom. Part of taking care of Mom is that I decided not to cry in front of her. All of a sudden at thirteen I was no longer a child. In my own mind, I felt it was my duty to grow up and live like an adult because if I didn't, it would kill my Mom and she had been "hurt enough".

Part of the outflow of that is what it did to my relationship with my siblings. To this day I don't understand why they love me. Why? Because I became a real tyrant in the home at any time that Mom wasn't there -- like at the grocery store, to a PTA meeting at our school across the road, things like that. I know they resented me because I thought I was bigger and more important than they and that I had to keep them in line to help my Mom. I was not a fun sister much of the time.

I am not proud of the fact that I took things belonging to my brothers and threw them out the window or down the cellar stairs if they had any conflicts over them. I couldn't take it if they argued or screamed or cried and I wasn't very pleasant about handling their little normal disputes. I was a terrible teen to my siblings and they sometimes made me pay for my abuse of authority. I don't blame them.

Sometimes I get comments about how I used put a textbook on the arm of a chair, watch television, and put my hair in rollers all at once. Amazingly, I got good grades but it doesn't seem logical that I should have.

One night when Mom wasn't home, my brother Brian figured he ought to torment me, I guess. He kept running back and forth throughout the house and every pass he made by my chair, he flipped the pages of the book I was studying. After yelling at him a few times, I finally gave him an ultimatum that if he did it again he was going to "get it".

Of course Brian HAD to do it again and I jumped up from the chair to give "it" to him. He ran away from me and ran around and around the kitchen table with me in hot pursuit. As I closed in on him and began to grab for his shirt, he began to knock over chairs in my path.  I leaped over each one and kept up the chase. As he started getting too far ahead for me to reach him, I stopped, picked up one of those chairs and threw it at him. It was a very heavy chair. Thankfully it didn't hit my brother, but when it landed on the floor it split neatly into two pieces -- one half falling to the left and the other to the right.

NOW what was I going to tell Mamma? Up until then, I was her wonderful daughter who did everything possible to help her. And here I stood before a neatly divided chair with no way to fix it. I came face to face with the errors of my way and the sin in my heart. I had heard from the Bible, "be sure your sins will find you out". And mine HAD!

You know how we always want to blame somebody else when we get into trouble? I wanted to blame Brian -- but I knew whose fault all of this really was. It was MINE. And I had come very close to hurting or even killing my brother -- and how would Mom replace that chair?  I cannot even tell you how sorry I was. Mom graciously forgave me and I knew I didn't deserve it!

There were other very painful events in my teen years and I spent a lot of time crying.
-- I changed high schools at the end of my freshman year because of boys who          threatened and terrorized me. I didn't tell Mom the whole story at the time.
-- I was dating a very sweet and wonderful boy (Grampie Jim's nephew). One day he came to our house to pick me up for choir practice and collapsed in our kitchen. He died that night of a brain hemorrhage.
-- I decided I would never "fall in love" again because I thought if I did, the guy would just die. I had a LOT of pain that I just couldn't (and didn't) talk about.

But there was another side. It wasn't ALL sadness by any means. Through all of the grief, there was always hope and light because I was a Christian. I believed in Jesus, His salvation, His love, His grace, and Heaven.  I knew I needed to mend my ways. So I developed a PLAN. In spite of the grief of my teens to that point, I would become a nurse and go to India as a missionary. Maybe I could help the women and girls there just like Amy Carmichael did. What a noble thought! I had a PLAN.

And that was the trouble with my plan. It was MINE and not God's. That was the problem all along. It seemed that I was failing to keep my eyes on Jesus and pay attention to His plan for me. He tells us in His word that "I know the plans I have for you. . ." People who have seriously trusted in the Lord will give their lives to Him and "let Jesus take the wheel". We understand that His plans are far greater than ours. Gradually, God guided my life and He has never stopped caring. I have learned that whatever happens -- whether I understand it or not at the time -- all fits into God's ultimate plan for me. And that plan is to make me more and more like Jesus. I know I get in the way of progress a LOT, but I'm glad He is "still working on me".

Part of His plan for me was to have YOU in my life! I'm amazed at such goodness, for I don't deserve any of it. Neither do you. None of us do. That is what GRACE is -- it is God giving us what we don't deserve and doing it because He loves us! So knowing that, let me encourage you to "let Jesus take the wheel" and take you on the right road through this life!