Boys Will Be Boys

Recently, some teenage boys made me cry. 

My son had a group of friends over for a New Year's Eve celebration. They played hard all night long, ate tons of junk food, puzzled over the mysteries of girls and school and family and friends, and passed out all over the house by around 5 AM. Then, they woke up by 8:30, got themselves put together, and went to church with me.

This made me happy, but it didn't make me cry.

Then we came back home and they made lunch.

I was in my bedroom letting them do their thing, not paying too much attention to the happy chaos in the next room, when everything hushed for a moment. This sudden hush piqued my attention. Anyone who has experienced a house full of children at any age knows that when it's too quiet, it's time to pay attention, so I listened. 

I listened to them pray over the food.

Not prodded, not nagged, not reminded, this group of 16-17 year old boys prayed over their food.

Because that's what they've been taught.

Because that's what they've internalized.

Because that's what is a routine expectation in their hearts and minds and that connection with God is something they stay tethered to whether in their own home or in my home or in someone else's home.

I listened to them pray over the food and I cried.

I felt so grateful for such solid, good friends for my son.

I felt so hopeful for the future of this world in their hands.

The prayer ended and one of them made a crude noise and they turned back into regular teenage boys.

They turned back into regular teenage boys who will become regular men who will make sure that their own children remember to pray over their food.

And this helps me know that the world might just turn out okay after all.