Not my story , but someone's ...
I passed my son in the hall of our co-op yesterday and noticed ink on his arm. I had told that boy 1 million times not to write on himself. But he’s 17 and apparently an undiscovered artist.
He’s the stoic type when it comes to feelings. We meet for breakfast every Friday. He will randomly lay in my bed to tell me about how much weight he lifted at the gym or how he made the guys laugh at lunch. But if it’s real feelings, he’s the typical teen boy who keeps his emotions under wraps.
I stopped and looked closely at his arm to see what today’s ill advised graphic would be. 317. Three one seven. My mind tried to find some relevance for the numbers but failed. “What’s 317?” I asked. “Think about it, Mom. March 17.”
My mind flew back to an early morning in March when I had to wake my boy to tell him that one of his friends was gone. He sat for moments trying to absorb the information and shook his head as if I’d spoken to him in a foreign language.
317, 3/17, March 17.
Just this week, our community lost two more teen boys who chose death.
Each circumstance calls us to evaluate and look for reasons and patterns. Our boys feel lost, misunderstood, left behind and no one really knows why. The same can be said for our girls. Each story carries its own nightmarish details but at its core the story is always the same.
The spiritual battle for the souls of our children rages around them. They need more than a ten minute story about Noah’s Ark on Sunday morning to carry them through the darkness that rages around them. The 10 minute lesson can’t stand up against the 10 hours they spend online.
Our kids needs fathers who’ll teach them about spiritual warfare and the battle they are ensnared in. We need mothers who walk alongside their kids and spend time talking about hard things. We need churches committed to in depth biblical teaching and community built on genuine love for one another. This is how we battle the enemy — we find strength and hope in Jesus.
We need understanding and answers for this extremely complex problem. I don’t have the answers but I’m so weary from the headlines and the desperate souls behind each story.
My boy will never forget 3/17. He will never forget his buddy. He will never wish he hadn’t called one more time. He will mourn his loss all over again when it is time for senior prom and when he crosses the graduation stage.
I let go of my son’s arm and said “I am so sad about 3/17 but I am incredibly hopeful because of 3:16.” John 3:16. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son. That whosoever believes in him, shall not perish but have everlasting life.
He smiled and my tear filled eyes met his. Earth has not sorrow that heaven can’t heal.
Love on somebody today. Look for someone in need. Tell someone about Jesus. So that no one else becomes a date on someone’s arm.
I passed my son in the hall of our co-op yesterday and noticed ink on his arm. I had told that boy 1 million times not to write on himself. But he’s 17 and apparently an undiscovered artist.
He’s the stoic type when it comes to feelings. We meet for breakfast every Friday. He will randomly lay in my bed to tell me about how much weight he lifted at the gym or how he made the guys laugh at lunch. But if it’s real feelings, he’s the typical teen boy who keeps his emotions under wraps.
I stopped and looked closely at his arm to see what today’s ill advised graphic would be. 317. Three one seven. My mind tried to find some relevance for the numbers but failed. “What’s 317?” I asked. “Think about it, Mom. March 17.”
My mind flew back to an early morning in March when I had to wake my boy to tell him that one of his friends was gone. He sat for moments trying to absorb the information and shook his head as if I’d spoken to him in a foreign language.
317, 3/17, March 17.
Just this week, our community lost two more teen boys who chose death.
Each circumstance calls us to evaluate and look for reasons and patterns. Our boys feel lost, misunderstood, left behind and no one really knows why. The same can be said for our girls. Each story carries its own nightmarish details but at its core the story is always the same.
The spiritual battle for the souls of our children rages around them. They need more than a ten minute story about Noah’s Ark on Sunday morning to carry them through the darkness that rages around them. The 10 minute lesson can’t stand up against the 10 hours they spend online.
Our kids needs fathers who’ll teach them about spiritual warfare and the battle they are ensnared in. We need mothers who walk alongside their kids and spend time talking about hard things. We need churches committed to in depth biblical teaching and community built on genuine love for one another. This is how we battle the enemy — we find strength and hope in Jesus.
We need understanding and answers for this extremely complex problem. I don’t have the answers but I’m so weary from the headlines and the desperate souls behind each story.
My boy will never forget 3/17. He will never forget his buddy. He will never wish he hadn’t called one more time. He will mourn his loss all over again when it is time for senior prom and when he crosses the graduation stage.
I let go of my son’s arm and said “I am so sad about 3/17 but I am incredibly hopeful because of 3:16.” John 3:16. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son. That whosoever believes in him, shall not perish but have everlasting life.
He smiled and my tear filled eyes met his. Earth has not sorrow that heaven can’t heal.
Love on somebody today. Look for someone in need. Tell someone about Jesus. So that no one else becomes a date on someone’s arm.
Not my story , but someone's ...
I passed my son in the hall of our co-op yesterday and noticed ink on his arm. I had told that boy 1 million times not to write on himself. But he’s 17 and apparently an undiscovered artist.
He’s the stoic type when it comes to feelings. We meet for breakfast every Friday. He will randomly lay in my bed to tell me about how much weight he lifted at the gym or how he made the guys laugh at lunch. But if it’s real feelings, he’s the typical teen boy who keeps his emotions under wraps.
I stopped and looked closely at his arm to see what today’s ill advised graphic would be. 317. Three one seven. My mind tried to find some relevance for the numbers but failed. “What’s 317?” I asked. “Think about it, Mom. March 17.”
My mind flew back to an early morning in March when I had to wake my boy to tell him that one of his friends was gone. He sat for moments trying to absorb the information and shook his head as if I’d spoken to him in a foreign language.
317, 3/17, March 17.
Just this week, our community lost two more teen boys who chose death.
Each circumstance calls us to evaluate and look for reasons and patterns. Our boys feel lost, misunderstood, left behind and no one really knows why. The same can be said for our girls. Each story carries its own nightmarish details but at its core the story is always the same.
The spiritual battle for the souls of our children rages around them. They need more than a ten minute story about Noah’s Ark on Sunday morning to carry them through the darkness that rages around them. The 10 minute lesson can’t stand up against the 10 hours they spend online.
Our kids needs fathers who’ll teach them about spiritual warfare and the battle they are ensnared in. We need mothers who walk alongside their kids and spend time talking about hard things. We need churches committed to in depth biblical teaching and community built on genuine love for one another. This is how we battle the enemy — we find strength and hope in Jesus.
We need understanding and answers for this extremely complex problem. I don’t have the answers but I’m so weary from the headlines and the desperate souls behind each story.
My boy will never forget 3/17. He will never forget his buddy. He will never wish he hadn’t called one more time. He will mourn his loss all over again when it is time for senior prom and when he crosses the graduation stage.
I let go of my son’s arm and said “I am so sad about 3/17 but I am incredibly hopeful because of 3:16.” John 3:16. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son. That whosoever believes in him, shall not perish but have everlasting life.
He smiled and my tear filled eyes met his. Earth has not sorrow that heaven can’t heal.
Love on somebody today. Look for someone in need. Tell someone about Jesus. So that no one else becomes a date on someone’s arm.
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