Lucy woke to the
sounds of dogs barking and birds chirping as the sun began to peek in her
window. Her alarm rang several times. Each time was quieted and ignored. She
knew the time had come to get out of bed, but the desire to stretch her legs to
the ground and begin a new day never came to her. With her alarm resounding and
mother calling out her name, she knew what was expected, but the embrace of
unhappiness swallowed any hope of obedience. She rolled over, starred at the
wall and blocked out all sounds, calls and awareness to reality. Her mind fixated
on her depressed thoughts until her mom interrupted.
“Lucy! Oh my
goodness. You are still in bed? Get up! We’re late and look at this room…Lucy!”
Her mother had
enough energy for the both of them, but Lucy felt none. She slowly rolled to
look in her mother’s direction to see her in fast forward picking up the messy
floor. Her mouth was moving, but Lucy heard no words.
“Lucy. Please not
today. I don’t know what is going on with you, but I don’t have time to fight or
try to figure you out. I’m doing my best here. Now get up!”
She stormed out of the
room and down the stairs with no capacity to see the pain in her daughter -
only the inconvenience she was causing. Lucy managed to sit up in bed. Her feet
slowly made their way down to the floor and disregarded the mess her mom nagged
about. Her hair looked like it had never seen a brush and desperately needed a
shower, but Lucy paid no attention. She did well to brush her teeth, put on
shoes and pull her hair back in a ponytail. She sat on the stairs with a next
to empty backpack, holding undone homework, while her mom and sister scrambled
to make their way to the door.
Without noticing the
physical appearance of her daughter, she completely missed the sad and
depressed teenager hidden behind the mess.
For several years I
have spent time mentoring young teen girls. So many have the same
things in common. Depression and loneliness, coupled with a desire to be loved
and cherished. Some are unable to identify or say these words, but the pain
they describe and stories they share are so telling. My heart grieves for these
girls. If only I could sit the mom and dad down and ask them to spend more time
with their daughter. To plead with them to slow down their life and answer the
calls of distress. But I would be meddling. So who will tell them? How will
they know?
My heart is also
burdened for many mothers close to my heart struggling through combative
relationships with their children. The stories they share pour out of them as
the anguish from their battlefield tumbles out with every word. She cares so
deeply. Her desperation flows with each tear shed. If only she could get her
teenage child to understand she just wants to help. She sees their pain. She’s
aware of their depression and sadness. She is terrified of the destruction and
her child won’t let her in or heed her warnings. Her attempts are returned with
doors slammed in her face. If any talk is exchanged, it is rude and
disrespectful. The child’s scream for help is disguised as defiance and creates
trouble. The harm mom sees afflicted is numbing. The distance created
unbearable. Her love is not enough to prevent the abuse and damage. She is shut
out and hopeless.
God, the answers
seem so distant and impossible. The discouragement living inside these homes is
disheartening. Lord, they need you in such a way I can’t even begin to fathom.
I pray with a broken heart for their redemption. May they know the treasure
they are in your eyes. Father, help the heartsick see your love, experience
your grace and recognize who they are in you. Drive out their pain. Release the
grip of the past. Bring healing and restoration to unite the parent and child
into healthy and thriving relationships. Father you put them together for a
reason. They are crushed. Repair what has been broken. Help them find the
answers they so desperately need. Amen.
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