My teenaged son likes to talk to me about the finer points of his skateboarding feats; his favorite, death-defying or death-causing scenes from the latest action movie; and occasionally about a funny wisecrack he made in class, well worth, in his mind, the lunch detention he earned. I love his stories, even though the content is rarely within shouting distance from any of my areas of interest. I try hard on these occasions to do what he’d like, to ‘just listen.’

‘ Just listening’ truly challenges me at times, as I want to remind him of moral imperatives, shift the focus to God’s grace, or at least converse about more personally pleasing topics. Humor helps me stay with my listening tasks. I quote from a wonderful youth pastor’s recent lecture, “… many points during a teenager’s years are like early-pregnancy morning sickness — a total mess, from a human perspective — and all part of God’s plan.”

I work hard to save my judgments for another time, when, perhaps, he and I can contract for safe skateboard use, better choices of movies, and more respectful behavior toward all human beings.

At the end of his life, Erick Erickson, a world-renowned expert on moral development, said he felt we all need someone to listen to our stories. Listening deeply to my son draws both of us into a blessed, miraculous event. To have times without moral censoring helps people to develop their morals, Erikson tells us. If I can remember to support my son, giving him room to reflect, he will, in time, find his own truths. Erickson said this becomes the work of a wise elder, who can “help the young to understand a few things.”