With the world upside down, I’m learning grace from my grandchildren
/The Boston Globe
Charlotte has been home from school for two months now, shut in with adults and her 16-year-old brother. She turned 13 last month. A big birthday, 13. Her mother sent out an e-mail to family and friends. Let’s have a surprise drive-by parade!
It rained on her birthday. But Charlotte didn’t care. She woke to balloons and cake and presents and hugs and smiles and Happy Birthday signs strung everywhere. Outside was raw and ugly but inside was just about perfect.
At 5:30 the parade began. Dozens of cars, which had lined up on a side street near her father’s house, began their slow crawl-by. Aunts, uncles, friends, cousins, leaned out car windows and shouted, “Happy birthday!” Horns blared. Everyone waved. Some people had made “Happy Birthday 13!” signs. Charlotte stood on the front lawn with her family and smiled and waved at everyone.
Before this year, she always had birthday parties in her dad’s backyard. Her dad’s a lighting designer so a themed party is right up his alley. She had a “Sofia the First” party when she was little, and a “Frozen” party where she dressed as Elsa and her dad made fake snow a few years later. One year she had a talent show and her father built her a real stage.
Adam, her brother, has always had big parties, too, mostly with sports themes. But one year it was a big trivia party. And one year, when he was 5 or 6, it was a science party where chemicals bubbled and liquids turned to solid and every little kid went wild.
Adam also had a birthday last month. His was big, too. He turned 16. He also woke up to decorations and presents, plus video messages from family and friends. Later, there wasn’t a parade but there were enough cars filled with well-wishers parked on our busy street to cause a small traffic jam.
Thank you, they both said at the end of their birthdays. “Thank you, Mom.” “Thank you, Dad.”
When I was a teenager? When I was 13? And 16? If there had been an epic pandemic? If school had been canceled? And my school play? And prom? If movie theaters had been shut down? If I couldn’t have seen my friends? If my appointment to get my driver’s license (16 now gets you only a learner’s permit) had been postponed? If I had been stuck at home inside for weeks? And it was my birthday? And all I could do was stand on my lawn and wave as people drove by?
I would have cried. And after I stopped crying, I would have complained.
Maybe my grandchildren cry behind closed doors. Maybe they complain to their friends. But I haven’t heard them once say anything close to “Woe is me.” What I have witnessed is grace under fire. They get up. They shower. They get dressed. They do their schoolwork remotely and religiously. School remains important to them. Later in the day they shoot baskets in the driveway. Charlotte runs. They play their guitars. They play on their devices. They play board games. They watch TV.
For her birthday, Charlotte asked if she could paint her room. She chose to paint it in a geometric pattern. This was not an easy task but she took it on. She ordered painter’s tape and paint and brushes, took everything off her walls, scrubbed her walls and began taping. Her mother helped. But it was Charlotte who did most of the work.
Most of what I’ve learned in life I’ve learned from older people or books or life itself. Not from 13- and 16-year-olds. But I have learned these past few months from my grandchildren. They could get a hall pass for pouting or complaining, for sighing and slamming doors. They are, after all, teenagers. But they don’t pout. And they don’t slam doors. They wake up and they carry on. They don’t dwell on what they can’t do.
Every day they do what they can. Not only without complaint, but — and this is what grace is — they do it with a smile.