(from my archives)

This morning, during my quiet time with God, I listened to an old favorite: Be Still and Know, by Steven Curtis Chapman. The first time I heard it, I'd just returned from a meeting with my oldest son's high-school counselor, regarding his transfer to a smaller, self-paced school.

Christopher was not an easy child to raise. God knows of the challenges he faced growing up in the midst of our family dysfunction, but his temper brought it to another level. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. When we arrived, I fled to the restroom for a small reprieve from his rebellious attitude. I looked into the mirror and whispered to a desperate woman, "Don't cry."

The meeting went well. Papers were signed. Christopher would finish out the day and begin a new school the next. I cried all the way home. Once inside the house, I turned the radio on. "Be Still and Know" was playing.

I was too broken and exhausted to be angry. My knees buckled and I sat on the floor, slumped in a puddle of tears. Me and my pain, humbly positioned to receive peace that surpasses all understanding.

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is holy
Be still, O restless heart of mine
Bow before the Prince of peace
Let the noise and clamor cease

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is faithful
Consider all that He has done
Stand in awe and be amazed
And know that He will never change
Be still

Be still, and know that He is God
Be still, and know that He is God
Be still, and know that He is God

Be still; Be speechless

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is our Father
Come rest your head upon His chest
Listen to the rhythm of His unfailing heart of love
Beating for His little ones
Calling each of us to come
Be still, Be still

I didn't stand to my feet that day with all the answers. Rather, I stood with what I needed most. Validation, Comfort, and Peace. It took time for our family to change. But change, we did.

At age twenty-four, Christopher is a son who loves his mother. We're honoring to one another. 

We made it after all.

Are you exhausted? Broken? God peace flows freely to those who come to Him.

I saw him twice in three weeks. Once he came over and played games with his younger brother. He was polite; his old self...said he was going to get more hours at his work place and train to become a manager. When he left I felt proud, hopeful, and more secure in the decision for him to move out.

Then I didn't hear from him for a week. I called to see if he would come by. He did, but when he stepped through the doorway I knew by the look of his eyes that we would have to visit another time. When he left I felt sad, angry, and more secure in the decision for him to move out.

And that's how it goes...for now anyway. I continue to pray. I love and miss him so much and at the same time I'm relieved that everyday of my life is no longer conflict-resolution due to teenage rebellion. My hope is in Christ. 

I was a prodigal daughter for over twenty-years. And now look what I'm doing. I can't write another person's story. I don't have control. The same God who never took His hand off of me is covering my son. He allowed me to get in over my head so that I would become willing to yield to Him. Sometimes I find myself wanting my son to cry out, but not experience the captivity that accompanies rebellious behavior. But then his story wouldn't be complete. I will continue to pray for him, but this is his fight. And it will be his victory. One that I will one day proudly tell you about.

I believe that. Even as my eyes spill the kind of tears that would surely form a puddle if they hit the ground.

"You are forgiving and good, O Lord, abounding in love to all who call to you" (Psalm 86:5 NIV).

"Father in heaven, prompt my son to call to you."