"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life." ~ Winston Churchill Tell me about an enemy of yours... someone who has been an opponent, adversary, rival or foe.

I don't think I've ever had any enemies in the traditional sense of the word. None come to mind. However, as so often happens in families, I sometimes felt as if my daughters were my adversaries during some tumultuous teenage years. We had some rocky times, for sure.

There were the less harmful transgressions--things like drinking, experimenting with smoking pot, skipping school, sneaking out of the house. (I have a very funny story, in hindsight, about my husband coming home and catching a kid out on our roof.) These were all things that I admittedly did when I was young, so on one hand I felt that I had no business judging my daughters. But at the same time, I couldn’t remove myself from the fact that I was their parent and was worried about their welfare. Then there were some more serious situations. One daughter was stalked by a girl who filed a false police report against her. The other daughter was involved in a car accident so bad that the tow yard owner told us he thought for sure it had been fatal after seeing the car. And there were other dire incidents involving bad choices that I decline to go into on this public forum.

Yes, there were definitely some "colorful" years there. As I think back on those times, I wince. My daughters weren't bad kids by any means, but they definitely liked to test their boundaries. And boy, did they ever like to push the envelope! Like all teenagers, they were trying to establish their independence while also viewing themselves as invincible—a dangerous combination.

I shed many tears and spent sleepless nights fraught with deep-seated worry and heartache. And try as I might, I couldn’t seem to keep from internalizing what was happening, asking myself questions like, “Are we bad parents?” and “What have we done wrong?” As much as I knew better, these self-doubts were often reinforced by society around me. Once when my older daughter had gotten into some trouble, the female campus police officer at the high school looked me straight in the eye and said, “I don’t know the situation in your household, but it’s my experience that these kids usually use their parents as role models.” My face flushed as I defended myself, but inside I really wanted to slap the self-satisfied look off that officer’s face! She’s the same officer who condescendingly told Michelle that her relationship with her boyfriend would be meaningless in the big scheme of life… that boyfriend is Craig, who has been with Michelle for over eight years and is now her husband.

It’s a time in my life I definitely wouldn’t want to relive. Through it all, I concentrated on making an honest attempt to keep the lines of communication open between my daughters and me. I tried to clearly let them know what my feelings and beliefs were in any given situation. And I kept telling myself not to let up or relent in any way, even when it was most tempting to take the easy way out.

We all eventually survived the teenage storm. My daughters are now ages 24 and 21 and are doing well—in fact, more than that they’re thriving, each in their own way. Both have apologized to me for the difficult times. I talk to my co-worker who’s dealing with a rebellious teenage son and I reassure her that he will eventually mature. Someday he, too, will be apologizing to her. When you’re in the middle of the storm, it’s hard to believe that “this too shall pass.” But it always does.