CHRISTMAS 2019: ITS MEANING FOR US

We wish our readers Happy Holidays. Thanks for being with us this year. Today, we offer thoughts on the season.

                  

Woodson:  Let’s Take the Pain Out of Christmas

Christmas is too commercial and, in many ways, painful. Commercializing Christmas has too often drowned out the story of Jesus.

                  

As a farm kid with few possessions, a belief in Santa Claus allowed me to engage in an

expectation fantasy. Hours were spent leading up to Christmas imagining what I would find under the Christmas tree. Invariably, I received a cap gun with holster, socks, and an assortment of fruits, nuts, and candies. Christmas after Christmas, I imagined myself receiving something really big, perhaps a pedal-driven car or a pony. 

On the Christmas after I turned eight, I received my assortment of fruits, nuts, and candy, but no toy. Someone told me Santa Claus was a fantasy, and my

parents had decided to no longer indulge this costly fantasy. I approached an older brother, hoping to be consoled but he responded, “Dang, man, you still believing that Santa Claus business?” I was crushed. That painful memory stays with me. Hope and I vowed never to lie to our children about a Santa Claus. But we would give gifts. Even that decision left us with the complication of having to decide who to give gifts to, which remains stressful for me. I don’t enjoy buying Christmas gifts. I think I’m contributing to the commercialization of Christmas and perverting the Christian faith. 

There have been times when Hope and I had to charge these expenses to our credit cards when short on cash. So, we spent money we didn’t have on things we didn’t need. 

            

Christmas should be a time to reflect solely on

Jesus’s birth and life and how his life informs our own. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle between Christianity, deceit, and commercialism. A great meal and great conversation on Christmas, without the gifts, would make Christmas what I’d like it to be.

Rob:  Let’s Stay Together

Debating the meaning of Christmas became a political flashpoint a few years ago. Conservatives, who see only a religious meaning

for Christmas, argued secularists were scrubbing Christmas from the public sphere or making it just about commerce. Some saw a “War on Christmas.” The

issue hasn’t flared up much this year as impeachment and the 2020 campaign consumed space in public discourse. So, in an atmosphere not brimming with angst over what the holiday means, I took a step back when contemplating its meaning for me.

I could focus on religion. I practice progressive

Signs of Religions

Christianity, so celebrating the birth of Jesus matters. However, I regard that practice as a year-round activity rooted in understanding and following the teachings of Jesus, not the miracles supposedly attendant to his birth and death. I respect the religious aspect of Christmas, but that’s not my focus.

In our family, and for me, Christmas means togetherness. I live in the same town with only one

of my children; the other four reside near or far, but in each case “away.” Since my wife’s death nine years ago, we’ve rotated where we gather. I now find the process of convening, of making whatever trip I must make so we are together, a valuable part of the exercise.

Christmas, therefore, means celebrating the fact we remain a family despite losing Ida, despite the trials and tribulations of children growing up, and despite my own struggles as I age and experience transitions. As the song says, Christmas is “the most wonderful time of the year” because, for us, it’s when we’re together. At this stage, that’s what Christmas means for me.

                                 

                         Andy Williams' The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

                    

Henry: Christmas Everlasting
My memory pulls forth concentric spheres. The

inside, closed, perhaps restricted and protected sphere streams images of two brothers and their parents experiencing incredible joy and happiness waiting for the morning.  There were friends, church, family, gifts, food, speeches, and prayer for all, especially the “less fortunate.”  Acceptance and faith without doubt prevailed - for doubt springs from examination.

As those memories expand, the next sphere reveals a recognition of sadness and an awareness that all is not as well as it once seemed at an earlier time.  The protective shielding of the first sphere is no longer present. Poverty, fear, doubt, hopelessness, despair, hunger, and anger are present, invading the space between the first and second spheres.

As the first and second spheres merge, a third

sphere forms, enveloping all and expanding at light speed, speaking to my mind, soul, and spirit. Hope inspired by love required by my spiritual belief in redemption, forgiveness, and universal acceptance extinguishes all doubt for the moment and takes me to the innocence of the first sphere. Here, however, a more informed faith supporting hope pervades my world becoming our world. This last all-encompassing sphere contains all but has no limits. 

We are forgiven. “For with God nothing shall be impossible.” Luke 1:37

Joy-PLEASE

Parenting 102: More Advice on Parenting or The Legacy We Can Leave Our Children

We wrote last time about leaving a “legacy” for our children and grandchildren, a capstone on our look at parenting.  Woodson detailed his desire to bequeath to his offspring a legacy of “character” and “financial freedom.”  Now, Rob and Henry weigh in.  Both view the issue differently from Woodson and from each other.  Still, we see commonality in our three approaches to this concept.  Judge for yourself the particulars.

Rob’s Thoughts  Woodson’s insistence on leaving a “legacy” for his children forced me to think about what I will leave mine.  I find his “character” and “financial freedom” objectives laudable goals.  I don’t use the same words, but I see similarities in what I want to leave my children and what he seeks to leave his.

I look at this issue along an intangibles-to-tangibles continuum. What intangible qualities and attributes did I try to instill and what real assets can I leave?  I’ve tried to give my children a lengthy list of intangibles, but much work remains on the tangible part.

I have five children from two marriages.  At the intangible end of the spectrum, my wives and I sought to provide our children experiences and education that promoted good judgment, developed analytical and  problem solving capacity, taught writing, speaking, and computational skills permitting high level professional performance, and inspired intellectual curiosity leading to freedom of thought. We also tried to inculcate moral, ethical, and spiritual values that enhance justice and equality in a free society.

My wives and I devoted substantial time and treasure to these objectives. We spent significantly on travel, sports experiences, books, cultural activities, and, of course, formal education.  Each child earned a degree from a reputable university.  With considerable evidence now in, it appears we succeeded.  All five demonstrate, at some level of competence, the listed skills and generally adhere to the values we promoted.  It seems I am leaving my children a meaningful legacy of intangibles.

The tangible side of the ledger is another matter. Given where I started in life economically – no real wealth, just an ability to earn a good income – leaving a financial legacy of real assets required a level of saving and investment success I never achieved. In truth, I have little wealth to leave my children. The money got spent giving them the experiences and education needed to acquire the intangibles.  I sometimes regret spending, saving, and investment decisions I made that, if decided differently, would likely have changed this situation.

Woodson reminded me the fat lady hasn’t sung yet.  He’s pointed out that I retain an ability to acquire financial assets I can leave my children.  Time will tell if he’s correct, but his assessment offers hope and a reason to keep working.  I have, in fact, heard many stories of people achieving late life economic success. Because opportunity remains, I get up every day and keep trying.   

Henry’s Thoughts  The consideration of a gift to leave my children and grandchildren leads to an intense examination of what I value most.

I believe I have moved toward recognizing the beauty and glory of existence in this world and the beauty and glory of this world accompanied by an appreciation and gratefulness for this recognition.

Because we perceive life as so short and fleeting we seem to look toward what lies ahead and spend time preparing for where we wish we were. We always seek a better place--we crave what we do not have.

I believe we can push and plan for a better world while appreciating and enjoying the present--valuing each breath and what it brings. I believe this leads to appreciating each life on earth and working every day in whatever big or small way to enhance the lives of others, even if only to make one individual smile.

Overwhelmingly wonderful peace can come from these realizations. I would like to leave my children a path toward this peace.

It may lead to an "ordinary" life as some see it, or to fame and fortune, but to exist without regret and at peace with that existence could represent the ultimate life can offer. I wish to leave my offspring a legacy of daily life that causes them to examine this path. I suppose I want to leave them balance.

COLLECTIVELY SPEAKING   Our three approaches to legacy offer a window into the practical and the ideal on parenting.  All of us want to leave our children something practical (i.e., “financial freedom”) and something that addresses higher ordered needs and dreams (i.e., “intellectual curiosity”).  But, because we see the value in both, Henry’s concept of “balance” ultimately could serve as a touchstone for what we want to leave our children.  They will lead better lives if we can leave them both the practical and the ideal.

YOUR TURN!                     

Parenting Advice 101: Know When to Hold 'Em, Know When to Fold 'Em

Earlier we discussed our attitudes on corporal punishment in parenting.  That issue arises most often with younger children.  Now, we want to address our interaction with children becoming young adults.  Our experiences helped teach us the need for flexibility in parenting.  No one best way to parent exists and what works one time may not at others.  Parents need rules and principles, but they also need situational awareness.  Sometimes rigidity and preconceived notions must give way to understanding a child’s personality and predisposition.  In the words of the old Kenny Rogers hit about gambling, a parent must know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.

Rob’s refereeing assignment.  Having a second family as he did with children born in the 80s and 90s, Rob faced modern issues his parents didn’t see − drug use, weak commitment to education, aggressive insistence on reasons for every rule and decision.  One of Rob’s daughters forced him to mediate between her and her mother.  The daughter demonstrated little interest in adhering to many of her mother’s expectations about academic performance and general demeanor.   They frequently ended up in shouting matches and the daughter absented herself from home for long periods, spending many nights with friends.

Old school parenting mandated requiring that the daughter conform to her mother’s wishes about grades, homework, partying, and boys.  Rob surmised that such an approach would fail with this daughter, given her personality, and trying it might produce more turmoil and, potentially, risked permanently losing her to bad behavior.  He opted to let the daughter “punch herself out” by ignoring her rages against her mother and settling for adherence to minimum standards of conduct.

The strategy worked.  Gradually, the daughter’s bluster subsided.  She cleaned up her act enough to finish high school with a credible academic record, graduated from a major state university, and now works in her chosen field.  Trying to make her conform wasted energy and insufficiently credited her creativity, resourcefulness, and entrepreneurial potential.  This more flexible approach recognized the value in finding a way to get the daughter to do the things she needed to do to set herself up for a successful life, not just make her conform.

Woodson calms down. The Walker family reports a not dissimilar experience. Uncompromising disciplinarians about academics, Woodson and his wife saw academic excellence as the best avenue for African American children to escape the limitations imposed by a racist society. Being subjected themselves to segregated education, in largely inferior schools, then required to compete with white counterparts unhindered by such drawbacks, forged an enduring belief in education as a pathway to success.

One son, as early as eighth grade, expressed a desire to attend Howard University, one of the nation’s top historically black colleges. Upon graduation from high school he applied to Howard, but hedged his bets by also applying to Atlanta’s Morehouse College and Hampton University in Virginia. When Howard did not initially accept him, he said, “I guess it’s not God’s will that I go to Howard.  It must be His will that I go to Hampton.”

Woodson took the comment as violating the family commitment to academic excellence, which he thought Howard offered above the others, and a commitment to making no excuses. Woodson went ballistic.  He admonished the son about making excuses and reminded him, forcefully, that if he wanted something as badly as he professed to wanting to go to Howard, quitting at the first sign of resistance was not an option. 

Upon further review, Woodson realized the fallacy in responding as he did.  This son always showed a thoughtful and sensible side.  He reacted well to reason and exhibited perseverance in most of his endeavors.  No reason existed for getting in his face to convince him he need not give up on his Howard dream.  Careful reasoning and encouragement that he exhaust every possible avenue should have been, and ultimately was, the way to reach him.

Through persistence, the son eventually got into Howard and succeeded there.  In hindsight, Woodson recognized that the screaming was not necessary.  A better approach would have been a calm explanation of the virtues of never giving up on a dream.

Henry’s contract.  At one point Henry’s older son's interest in girls and in having fun exceeded his interest in school. The son had been an exemplary student until this funfest behavior appeared.  The situation presented a parenting dilemma because it brought Henry face to face with a challenge to the norms he’d learned himself as a child and had always enforced as a parent.  Instinct, training, and tradition dictated coming down hard on the son to force him to change his ways.  Henry opted not to do that.  He and his wife proposed a contract with the son.  That agreement included precise behavior requirements, goals, and penalties. Instead of imposing rules from on high, the parents engaged the son on a rational level.  By knowing when to back off and find a solution that really could solve the problem, Henry diffused the situation and kept his son engaged and interested in his education.  The son understood both the purpose and necessity of this approach and within a year was back on track.

So, we’ve learned from our experiences. We present these stories, not as templates but as examples of how we diffused volatile and troublesome situations in ways that produced positive outcomes. Parents should have principles, but good results depend on multiple factors. We’ve come to believe flexibility counts for a lot.  Give us your story.