Somewhere, I overheard someone said: “our generation is a generation of children who had to listen to our parents and now have to listen to our children.” Children growing up, apparently anywhere in the world, in the fifties and sixties, were raised by parents and culture that in general highly valued respect for people older than us. That included, not talking back to your parents, and not questioning any errands or punishments meted to any naughty or unacceptable behaviours.

Last night, like a few nights over the last few months, instead of reading an eBook on my iPad or watching the news on television, I sat with legs extended towards the other end of the lounge chair and my teenage son sitting next to me the same way but facing in the other direction. We were both covered with a blanket enjoying a winter night.

This time was spent catching up with each other and included discussions, or more appropriately, sharing about our thoughts and beliefs.  Topics included: parenting – how my parents parented me and my siblings, how we parent him, and how he will be parenting his children in the future, moving out of home when he reaches 18 or 21 years old, sweethearts, learning and studying, jobs and finances, faith – belief in a God, or specifically the possibility of the presence of God in our lives and in the universe.

I shared my desire for his future life and his desire for his future with friends and girlfriend. It was an extremely open sharing – of what’s in our hearts and minds – between a mother and a son.

And true to the latest culture of parenting, I had to do a lot of listening and no arguing. Differences of opinion were shared in loving and acceptable ways.

It was a night of learning for me, not from my eBook but directly from the mouth of my son. It was, indeed, a joyful conversation that ended with a game of chess. It was even more joyful for me because I won!