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I looked into the antique jar full of seashells my family and I had gathered on our vacations, and tried to ignore the nudging I felt from God. I held in my hand pieces of sea glass my children, my husband, and I had collected on our recent visit to Glass Beach. Nearly a century ago, this rocky shore served as the city dump. But today, herds of people comb the sand and rocks for sea glass. After much refinement in the ocean, these broken pieces of old glass garbage have become sought-after stones that sparkle like jewels in the surf.

As I placed this onetime trash into the jar, I felt God speaking to me about the "garbage" of my life—my past sins.

"I can use those transgressions now," he seemed to tell me. "Just as the sea has refined this glass, I've shaped and refined your mistakes into valuable gems for you to share with other people."

Specifically, I felt the Lord prompting me to tell my teenage daughters about the costly blunders I'd made when I was their age.

But the suggestion wasn't appealing to me. I didn't want to confess my past to them.

What I Was Hiding

My adolescence—and my husband's—was dark and dangerous compared to my children's coming-of-age years. My girls planned to be virgins on their wedding nights. They wore purity rings and at their youth groups had signed contracts with God not to have sex before marriage. While I knew my kids might not be able to hold to such ideal aspirations, I prayed they would. And so far, they were untainted by promiscuity, alcohol and drugs, or raunchy movies.

In contrast, my husband and I had watched every vulgar movie Hollywood made. During our teens we went to parties, got drunk, tried drugs. Because we weren't Christians, we never thought we were doing anything bad.

I'd been somewhat open with our kids about that period of our lives, so they already knew their proper Christian mother had a past. But they didn't know details. They didn't know that I had friends who'd died in drunk-driving accidents. That I'd driven drunk many times myself. My daughters didn't know that I'd taken friends to get abortions. Or that their grandpa had kicked me out of his house when I was 18 because he'd caught me sleeping with my boyfriend—their dad.

The lessons from those years were painful. I'd learned boyfriends love girls less after they put out, not more as the boys promise. That drunken bashes leave the partygoer feeling sick and empty the next morning. That drugs harm the body, but not nearly as much as they harm the soul.

Of course, I didn't want my daughters to suffer the scars of such sinful choices. But since my girls showed no signs of such perilous behavior, why would I need to share my old sins?

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I thank you so much for this article. I was just thinking this past week that now that my daughter is a teen I need to really sit down and talk with her. I have a past that I am ashamed of. I have cofessed to the Lord and would love to use my past to maybe help my daughter avoid the mistakes I made. Not only was I a Christian at the time of my mistakes but so was my boyfriend. I truely wondered if by sharing my past would I be to ashamed to share. By reading that others were willing to share with their children I know with God's help I can my own. Again I thank you for sharing. God Bless.

I had the same talk with my two boys when they were teenagers. I shared with them what I felt at the time, and how I felt about it as I talked to them. They are now fine young men with families of their own. They never used the excuse of my own sins. In fact my oldest boy did try drinking a couple of times and did not like it. My younger son never tried any of it. I thank God all of the time for giving my kids the wisdom to stay away from peer pressure. Telling them when I did was good. If you wait, you risk the possibility of someone else "spilling the beans" unintentionally. That would be far worse. It would take away their trust in you. This article hit the nail on the head.

Very touching story. God bless you for sharing!

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