I've always been a difficult child. When I was a baby, my Mom and Dad had to ride me around for hours to get me to go to sleep (my sleeping patterns continue to bother my husband. He's in bed by 10 or 11, I'd just as soon sit up until 2 or 3). I was a picky eater, living on bean and bacon soup and cookie crisp cereal. No veggies for this girl. I was a drama queen in the worst way... this only worsened when Holly was born. I did not like being a big sister. (I've gotten used to her, and kind of grown to like her... Grin. But boy did she suffer!)
I was mouthy. I complained. I talked back (majorly). I stomped and slammed doors and was guilty of throwing objects a couple of times in my life (Again, sorry, Holly. I really DIDN'T mean to hit you in the head with the glass Christmas ornament).
I'm not proud of my behavior. When I look back now, I'd do anything to change it, yet I still catch myself mouthing off and complaining and back talking. (Not necessarily to my Mom and Dad, or even out loud, but there's a running dialogue in my head. )
Today, though, as I was reading the Bible, I read about David and Absalam. David, a man after God's own heart... who cursed his family because he let his eye stray to Bathsheba, got her pregnant, and then killed her husband "in the line of duty". (You couldn't buy a better fictional novel on Amazon than this stuff... sounds like a Days of Our Lives episode to me...only better. The redemption in this story is GREAT). Absalam definitely makes me look like a golden child. He stole the throne from his father, had him hiding, then tried to have him killed. So maybe my backtalking isn't so bad.
The point of my rambling is this... even God's best guy had troubles. You may be having trouble with your child. Or your parent. Or your boss... it doesn't really matter who. God is the One we can always run to. He loves us, shelters us, and is with us, even if we are hiding in a cave. And apparently he helps us keep our cool, even in dealing with mouthy teenagers. After all, here I am, living to tell about it. (And paying for my raising. Um... Caleb?)
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