Being the daughter of a firefighter, I was talking to the mom of a firefighter not long ago. Eventually the conversation wound around to her son having delivered quite a few babies over the course of his career. The youngest mom? Ten years old.
That's fourth grade.
The year I discovered Laura Ingalls Wilder and got that terrible pixie cut. The year Mrs. Weinlander used to exclaim, "Sacramento California and all points west of the Mississippi!" when we, her class, became unruly. The year Kimmy was my best friend. The year I started to wonder if it was time to put away the Barbies, but couldn't bring myself to do it.
And in another little girl's life; the year she became a mom.
Oh, the ways that little kids lives can be changed. We pontificate and shake our fists and debate how to save them. The truth is, they need saving from us. We are salvation and destruction all at once.
I just have to ask, of all the ways that our children are changed for the worse; are we brave enough to make a list of the changes we ourselves caused?
How many ten year old little girls who will give birth could have been spared if...
How much of it is really beyond our control?
When I turned fifteen I school shopped for my new jacket to wear to my first day of high school. Red. I had a Halloween party for the youth group at church, I dressed up as a punk rocker. I met my first serious boyfriend. I applied for a job at the mall. I took driver's ed. I slept on sponge rollers every Saturday night so my hair would be curly for church. I went on my first date. I attended my first school dance. I had my first kiss.
Another fifteen year old enrolled her child in kindergarten.
Someday needs to change, so our children don't have to.
It's not them, it's us.
Ephesians 6:4 And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.