I'm the kind of person who skips to the conversation when reading a book.
“I’ll walk home from church,” Grace told Bobby. She was staying after the worship service for a teen event.
“I’ll come get you,” he said. “What time will you be done?”
We live less than a mile from the church. Our town is sweet, innocent, little village with tree-lined streets and hundred year old houses.
“I can walk,” she said again, and turned from him. The conversation was over in her thirteen-year-old mind.
I was already home fixing lunch when Bobby came in and relayed the conversation to me.
“I’ve already told her that I don’t want her walking alone,” I told him.
Grace is a little slip of a girl, pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes. No, I definitely am not ready for her to walk alone through town — because even a town that seems innocent may be hiding something worse.
“So she’s just being flat out disobedient,” he said, a little grumpily.
“I don’t know if I would look at it like that,” I said. “She’s a teenager and wants some freedom.”
“I know that,” he said, “but I don’t want her walking home alone. And, if it’s not disobedience, after we’ve both told her how we feel, then what is it?”
He looked at me, not making the connection. Sometimes my analogies are a little weak.
“She’s testing the doorknob. We’ve both told her what we want, but she’s testing the doorknob to see if it’s really locked,” I said.
“So what do we do?” he asked.
“We show up, and either walk her home or drive her home,” I said.
“What if she won’t come with us?” he asked.
“She will,” I answered.
And she did. No fuss. No fight.
She tested her boundaries and found them still to be in place.