“I want to go punch that little boy in the nose!” I punched the air with my free hand for emphasis, and almost dropped the phone. 

My friend on the other line commiserated with my story. She understood how my heart hurts for my own child, and how I long to march into the cafeteria or the classroom and set some things straight. She even had a story of her own from this week.
Her daughter had been planning to hang out with her very best friends after the game, but she came home instead and spent the evening alone in her bedroom. Things have been changing for this teen. Her friends have been changing. She’s had to make some hard choices about where she will go and what she will do. She’s had to think through what it means to follow Jesus in high school. 
And while this teen hurts up alone in her room, her mom is hurting down in the kitchen, too. Hurting for her daughter and wanting to do something about it. Wanting to set some things straight!
My friend and I agreed that there’s nothing we can do. Most schools won’t let moms tirade around the building throwing punches. But, on the other hand, my friend and I have done the best thing we can. We’ve gently asked, carefully listened, and used our mom-sized hearts to mop up the hurts our kids have spilled out.  
And when I want to do something else–something that might make a scene–I remember what Jesus did for his deeply hurting friend, Mary. He cried with her. Not in a hopeless way, but in a strongly agitated way. I think Jesus saw the deeply wounding effects that sin had on his friends, and it deeply troubled and  irritated him. 
Jesus knows my child’s pain, too. He agonizes over the hurt that sin has caused. Someday soon Jesus will set everything straight, and he won’t need my help to do it. But for now, tears are enough. 

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