As Parents and Children Come to Common Ground

It is an odd thing, in a way, how each generation seems to feel that each preceding generation is somewhat old-fashioned—how each generation listens impatiently to the lessons of the past.

Youth is so sure the rules have changed. Age is sure they haven’t. Youth feels it knows how far it can go. Age is deeply aware of the danger. Youth feels it can always apply the brakes in time to save itself. Age knows it isn’t always so.

And so parents frequently find themselves groping, reaching, pleading, trying to say what should be said, in a way that will not be misunderstood, in a way that will not seem meddlesome. And always there is great need for parents and children to come to common ground, and to say to one another what should so much be said. And so we would plead this day with parents and with children to be more understanding with one another:

To you as parents, to remember when you were young; to remember why you wanted to do some things you wanted to do; to remember how eager you were for social acceptance—how sensitive you were to ill-time criticism, and how easily your hearts could be hurt; and how some things which now seem less important, once mattered very much. All this as parents we ask you to remember.

And now to you, our children, to you in your youth: Why should you suppose that the basic rules have really changed in the few short years since your parents were as young as you? The road seems new to you. It isn’t new to them. They’ve been over it. They are still traveling it, and it is still essentially the same. We have more; we move faster; we have acquired some things and lost others—but it is still true that causes are always followed by consequences.

And as you ask your parents to remember this of you, will you also remember this of them: that they were young, not very long ago, as you are young today—that they once thought your thoughts; that they once felt they too had found new ways, and felt your longings for flight and freedom—and since have learned the wisdom of restraint.

Remember, too, that parents have hearts that can be hurt; that they, like you, are sensitive to ill-timed criticism, and to misunderstanding of their motives. Remember that there is nothing, in righteousness, they would not do for you. They are yours and you are theirs, and you and they together, have the privilege, the right, the duty, to sit down and share your thoughts and consider your decisions with one another, that both of you together may be listened to and respected—and work, and pray and plan together for the wholeness of your happiness—always and forever.