One of our teenagers last night had a blow up. These sorts of situations are always full of combustion, meaning, depth. It’s where the way of nature collides with the way of grace. It’s when the layers of life seem to become more obvious if I choose to notice.

After tossing everything off of the counter and kicking the trashcan across the kitchen and into the cabinets she was desperate for something else to throw in anger. She punched the freezer a few times, the fridge a couple more. And then she noticed the big wooden magnet and took it off the freezer and chucked it onto the floor while screaming at the top of her lungs.


There is one word on the wooden magnet:


When she first blew up she ripped up her school card which had her homework assignments listed on it. Later when I asked for her to come talk with me about some of her behaviors she said, “I ain’t gonna be no dummy. I have homework I need to do.” As she sat on her bed she dramatically started getting out her books and folders from her backpack.

“Shit. I don’t know my homework assignments because I tore up my card.”

I didn’t need to say a word for a lesson to be learned.