New Year's Sunrise
It’s sunrise on New Year’s Day. From our back porch I can see our two sons in the park behind our home embraced in a circle of 15 friends from their high school for the arts. This clan of artistically gifted kids has just spent the night at our home having a New Year’s Eve party, and they made it through the night without one wink of sleep. In the spirit of “group experience,” they’ve all wandered outside at this early hour, most of them in their stocking feet, all wrapped up in each other’s arms, blankets, and sleeping bags that never got used during the night. They are bunched up together in the freezing cold, laughing and shrieking, with a cloud of fog hovering over them from the warmth of their breath.
They’d all received permission to spend the night with us, all of them using one version or another of: “It’s O.K., mom our friend’s dad is a priest,” as if that were some sort of guarantee of safety and decent behavior. Our sons were a little surprised that we allowed this party, and then when we said it was O.K. for girls to spend the night as well, as long as the house got cleaned, they sprang into action with the energy and fervor of cartoon characters. I’ve never seen vacuuming done with such dedication. In fact I don’t think I remember our son vacuuming – EVER! Even the carpet on the stairs got cleaned. Books were dusted and straightened with the care of monastic scholars. Even our two dogs, Archie and Roscoe got bathed. The more thoroughly they cleaned, the more convinced I became that we’d made a dangerous decision.
But now having survived the night without incident, except to have been invited into their conversations, and to have been asked permission to go outside and bang pots at midnight, I know we made the right choice. This moving human sculpture of dreams, silliness, rebellion, and awe for life, laughing through our back yard as the sun rises on a new year reminds me that these kids know more about life and community than most. They are tolerant of each other; they are genuinely interested in one another; they are eager to celebrate the successes of one another; they respect the dreams and hopes of one another; when one of them hurts another, they talk about it and work it out – together, instead of retreating to gossip or silent pouting; they welcome new kids into their midst without any of the posturing, ceremony, or games that adults require; and they embrace change as necessary and welcomed. This foggy mass of moving adolescence is a refreshing icon of health – from whom we adults can learn a great deal.