THE SCENE: There I was, in the pastor’s office … with a boy. We were teenagers with no real knowledge of why these raging hormones were drawing us together. Then it happened, a kiss. It started as only one but then the hormones swelled to more kisses, heat rising, bodies drawing together and …
THEN THE DOOR OPENED…
To my horror in walked the shell-shocked pastor as two lip-locked teenagers made out in his office. That pastor happened to be my dad.
THE TALK: With a swift move he separated our hormone engulfed bodies and calmly placed each of us on either side of his chair, sat down and began as best he could, with words like:
birds and bees… sex destroys lives… resist the devil… sex… closed doors lead to trouble… sex is… girls lead boys on… sex is for marriage… boys can run from temptation…
My dad’s monologue “talk” that afternoon was quite impromptu since I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the scene he was expecting when he returned to his office to work on Sunday’s sermon. As I think about it from a parent’s vantage point he was facing his worst nightmare–”My daughter is actually a sexual being!”
He reached into his toolbox of life skills, and did what any pastor would do…he prayed for us. You better believe that I too was praying, praying fervently to somehow disappear and NEVER talk about this again…with him at least.
LEARNING: What memories do you have of your own parental “sex talk?”
Did it create a sense of being connected to your parent or was it a grossly miscalculated bomb dropped into the room?
We can use the past as a tool or a weapon—one seeks to cultivate and one to destroy. What if we trade in our monologue “talks” and cultivate a language for teens and parents to share?