Generation Hope.

        I recently had a pretty intense conversation with my son. We talked about his generation, the internet, culture, ideas instead of laundry and car payments.

A Gift.

         Let me just get this out of the way. My son is amazingly smart, sensitive, and informed. I am so proud of him for just being him that I will never be able to express it. I think I might get him to understand a quarter of that on good days. But hearing his brain in action isn’t all of the gift.

         He pushed me to see my own cynicism, hopelessness and outright fear about the world he is inheriting. I was so tempted to tell him he was young and he would change, that I am older and wiser. I didn’t allow myself to say it because I was divinely inspired to stop speaking. I couldn’t stop tears from forming in my eyes, however.

         I felt like crying for him, myself, and this world. I missed my own idealism. I wanted to stop time for him and protect him from the horror that really is out there. At the same time, I felt an overwhelming hopefulness: he and his generation might break through. It could happen. They might someday change the world. And, I recognize now, I felt shame for my generation which has failed so utterly. Thank the Mother, we have a decade or two left at an age when we can be courageous to the point of recklessness. If I can continue to shed all these fears I have of the future, the ones that our media and our government have etched so deeply into my mind, I might recover the strength I see in my son’s eyes.

Resolutions.

         The next time someone says that these kids don’t have a clue and we are doomed when they take over, I resolve to tell them to take off their ego-blinders and talk to a member of Generation Hope. Right away. I’ll introduce them to the nearest one I can find – goth, gangster, former cheerleader, nerd, gamer. I know there are great people in every one of those crowds.

         When I go into my classes on Tuesday, I will start an intelligent conversation, shut up, and listen.

        And just one more… I will stop watching the nightly news – unless I am strong enough to listen to the noise and the agenda behind the images and messages. I might even dip into the world of Reddit to see the news my boy is so positive about.

         

He might be onto something.