My kitchen tools gig last night was with some friends from my old church. It was great to see them again, and meet their friends.
I almost cried when I saw their son, who is now 16 and towers over me. I spent a wonderful couple of days with him and the rest of the teens just before leaving Bell Street. We went on retreat, the minister, youth leader and I. We walked the labyrinth and journaled and cooked together and played poker, hung out at the beach at night and recognized in one another the deep longing for spiritual connectedness. Dear Boy was 14 at the time, and interested in Buddhism. I had just inherited a small Thai Buddha statue from my grandmother, which for some reason I chose to bring along on the retreat. And then, for some other reason, chose to give to Dear Boy. He was a little blown away, I think. I had other gifts for the other participants, including the young Christian woman I was mentoring through the coming of age program.
I asked Dear Boy's parents about his spiritual life. Is he meditating? No, they said. He is too into girls and sports right now. They haven't been going to church lately.
Sometimes I forget I am getting old. But I am reminded of it when I see kids growing into adulthood.
I pray, oh Lord, that Dear Boy doesn't bury his longing for you for too long.