Defining -- Without Being Defined By -- Successes and Failures

A couple of decades ago I was sitting in a class where The Family: A Proclamation to the World was being discussed.  Our lesson was on a particular sentence: Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities. 

As the lesson was announced, one neighbor raised her hand and took issue with the first word in this hopeful sentence.  "I disagree with the use of the word successful," she said, "because the idea of success implies that some families are not successful, that they are failures."

Frankly, I had never thought of it that way.  As I considered her comment, I realized that my neighbor had a different situation than I did, and she was speaking from her own experiences and fears.  What I, a mother with preschoolers and babies, had taken as an encouraging pattern for my young family was a source of pain for her, with her four challenging teenagers!

What follows is a collection of some of the thoughts I have had as I have pondered on the use of the word success through the years, particularly as it applies to families and motherhood.  As my children have grown and I have come face to face with my own inadequacies and with the painful choices of others, this comment has served as a reminder that the difficulties of life don't define me or my family as failures -- and that apparent ease or accomplishments don't define us as successes.

God defines success.  The Proclamation comes to us from God, through His authorized servants; He has the right to use the word as He will and we are bound by His definition.  Through His Spirit, He also defines success for us individually, without regard to our neighbors' successes or failures.  I would consider my grandmother, who grew up as the daughter of a bootlegger during the Prohibition, a success -- even if all she did was clear out drug and alcohol use from our family.  Grandma was a hard worker who set an example of temple service and keeping her marriage covenants.  She developed a variety of talents and helped her children cultivate them, too.  Grandma expected her children to refine themselves and to make the world a better and more beautiful place.  She taught them to worship God and made sure they attended church and served their neighbors.  In a single generation, Grandma changed our family tree.  Personally, I have a heritage to live up to -- and I know God expects me to work at least as hard as she did, though my challenges are different than hers.  I honor those who do for their families what Grandma did for mine, and I am confident that their posterity will consider them successful the way I consider her a success for building a foundation of Christian living.  Grandma turned to God and He helped her succeed.  Surely He will do the same for us!

Keep trying.  Successful people learn by continuing to practice, even when they initially fail -- and especially if they initially succeed.  In Mindset, Carol Dweck highlights many of the pitfalls of the common "fixed mindset," which entrenches the idea that "smart" or "talented" people are successful without effort and that hard work is for the lame Rest-Of-Us who Just Don't Have It.  This mindset causes people to label and limit themselves after only a short period of time, refusing to continue to try to grow if they don't succeed or to decline the risk of making mistakes once they have achieved some measure of accomplishment.  People with the "growth mindset," on the other hand, realize that they are growing stronger as they try; any  struggles or situational failures show what doesn't work and pave the way for future successes. 

Since reading this book, I have changed the way I praise and encourage my children:  I want them to value their own efforts and recognize their progress, rather than expect themselves never to make mistakes.  I certainly want them to know that my acceptance is not based on whether or not they succeed at something and that failing doesn't make a person a failure, any more than succeeding means they have never or will never fail.  Success comes as we become better, not as we never make any mistakes.

Apologize.  We can succeed at being humble and taking responsibility for our own weaknesses.  My children (and husband) are remarkably forgiving as I confess my faults and ask their forgiveness for offenses, even if they were unintended.  I have learned not to make excuses:  following an apology with "but..." negates the whole thing.  Accept and apologize for what's yours and leave the rest alone. If correction is needed, offer it separately.  A loving example of humility is more likely to promote understanding than almost anything else, because it will bring God's Spirit, one big measure of success.

Am I a successful mother?  Ultimately, time will tell, but maybe not in my lifetime.  In the meantime, I can try to have "happiness in family life...founded upon the teachings of the Lord, Jesus Christ" and work to establish and maintain our family "on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities."



Photos from sxc.hu.  Used courtesy of Alex Woodhouse, Adriana Herbut and sunshizzle.

Do It Yourself?

One of the challenges of parenting a toddler is the frustration that comes as the child decides to take charge of his own life.  It is a natural thing -- and a good one -- for a person to move towards autonomy:  this drive leads to walking, toilet training, speaking, self-dressing and a host of other desirable skills.  It would be debilitating for a parent to squelch the child's interest, though it takes longer for him to "do it Ah-self!"

Naturally, a toddler cannot be expected to fully care for himself.  Cooking, laundry and providing for his needs make it possible for him to learn needed skills and grow in capacity in a safe environment.  But parents should bear in mind that their role is one of planned obsolescence.  We are training our children to become the most capable orphans ever, for eventually they will probably have to do without us.

My third child recently graduated from high school and began a job.  His older sister was married this summer.  Their older brother has been on his own and is making many important life decisions for himself and their younger sister is a high school senior, also making choices that will color her future.  For each of them, I need to become somewhat obsolete -- or they will be crippled.

I have listened with amazement (and some amusement) when these grown children have returned home with announcements of "new things" they have learned for themselves -- and I have shaken my head as I have recognized those familiar refrains that I have sung to them hundreds of times in our home!  At first, this gave me consternation, since the "discoveries" should obviously be (to me or to them) nothing new; additional consideration led me to understand that I could count such learning a success for each of us:  while each child certainly does not learn these life lessons by himself, he has to learn it for himself.

Motherhood is like teaching children to sing by heart:  the teacher's job is to find creative ways to repeat and repeat so the children will be attentive and learn the song without becoming bored with it, so we sing together, hum loud and soft, clap the rhythm and move to the music.  A good teacher realizes that people learn in a variety of ways; that an active listener is also digesting things; and that to really know the song, children also need to understand what the words mean and be able to sing on their own, even when a teacher is not present to motivate them.  When a person finally knows the song for himself, the song is his -- regardless who wrote it or taught it to him.  This ownership does not negate or belittle the efforts of the creator or the instructor; rather, it gives meaning and purpose to all their work. 

As a parent, I have felt like I have repeated certain refrains a thousand times -- but that is my job and I know I cannot afford to get frustrated or give up:  I have additional younger children who need to hear these things for themselves so they can also learn them for themselves.  I will be gone someday, but if I have done my work, the fresh music of a joyful life will continue to ring out in the lives of my children in new and wonderful ways.
 

Photos from sxc.hu.  Courtesy of Anissa Thompson and Ned Horton.

A Few Choice Words

One day, when I was a child, a couple of the younger siblings got into an argument and began calling names.  We had pretty strict laws in our home about Naughty Words and the rest of us were properly horrified. 

Mom got serious, but instead of coming down on anyone, Mom did something I have never forgotten:  she had the two sit, crosslegged, knees touching, and she instructed them that their punishment was to take turns calling one another all the names they could think of.

Naturally, the rest of us became silently attentive.  Believe me, I have never tried this one at home!  We wondered what she could be thinking.

The first rounds included "Dumb-dumb," "Stink-stonk," and "Poo-poo," from which one can see the rhythmic bent of our family dynamic.  After these forbidden expletives, it became more difficult.  By the fourth round, they were really struggling, racking their brains with determination, working to escalate the contest with the most awful insult.

As the first child slung his attempt at a zinger, the second fizzed and frantically sputtered out, "You...you...A&W Root Beer!"

The startled snickers in the room quickly erupted into laughter, and the contest was over.

This humorous situation has served as a vivid example of the folly of name-calling:  it really doesn't matter what the words are, insulting is ugly.  I think it is beautiful that we could be more sheltered in our youth than my children have been able to be, but any word can be made vile by the intent of its use.

I have admired my mom many times for her unexpected creativity in Motherhood.  When asked about this situation, many years later, she laughed and said that one of the benefits was that she was able to plumb the depths of our vocabularies! 

I think that one of the secrets to her success as a parent was her use of situational humor to lighten the mood and help us to see the truth.  She only needed a few choice words.


Photos from sxc.hu.

Making Holidays Holy Days

A few years into our marriage, I sat down with a calendar and a pen and asked my husband about his ideas for family traditions on holidays.  I had realized (it took me awhile) that my expectations for quiet days at home did not match his dreams of shared family times doing activities.  I had never really considered how many Fourth of July parades a person might need in his life.

This exercise was a good starting point for discussion and negotiation:  I offered input and made efforts to provide opportunities for his holiday visions to happen, and we were free to evaluate them and revise our plans to accommodate our family's needs.  One year our parade experience was soured by the rude folks who crowded in front of us and left litter all over their parksite; another year, he took the children to the huge downtown parade and one got lost in the crush on the way back to the car -- which put a damper on his enthusiasm for future parade outings.

For St. Patrick's day, Roger's initial idea was to have an all-green meal.  I prepared a pistachio pudding dessert, along with a lettuce salad and green-toned sweet-and-sour chicken over light green rice.  The lemonade was even tinted a yellow-green.  Roger really got into the spirit of the day, helping paint dinner with food coloring drops.  The food tasted just like normal, but when we actually sat down to eat, he was overwhelmed by the visual experience.  Our water pitcher was made of green-tinted plastic and when he poured himself a cleansing glass of water and found the water was faintly colored, he lost interest altogether in the meal!  We have never tried that tradition again, though we talk about it at least once a year.

Over the course of the past couple of decades, Easter has become my husband's favorite holiday.  He likes the fact that it always falls on the Sabbath and that we have the built-in chance to worship.  We have tried to minimize the bunny aspects of the day, focusing as much as we can on the resurrection and atonement of Christ.  We have tried a Mediterranean meal and have had a Passover supper.  Some years we have colored eggs or done activities with extended family; most years we have made or purchased new warm-weather Sunday clothes.  We feel free to modify our plans according to our needs and resources.

Our family egg hunt has usually consisted of jelly beans and small chocolate candies which I have hidden around the family room after church for the children to gather into bowls and deposit into a communal dish on the middle of the floor.  The children have had so much fun with that, the older ones have often made two or three subsequent hunts for their siblings with the leftover candy.  Sometimes it got a little rambunctious and folks got a bit sugar-silly, but it was pleasant to see that nobody wanted the fun to end.

Yesterday, like last Easter, we had the dilemma of what to do, now that everyone is a big kid.  Our two college students are again living at home and the youngest is almost too old for an egg hunt.  As a solution, my husband composed a list of scriptures that highlight the mission of Christ, particularly as it relates to the resurrection; and we prepared an individualized, grass-filled cellophane bag of treats for each person and hid them around the yard.  Some of our family members have difficulties with gluten and some have problems with sugary treats.  We tried to select special items each person could enjoy.
 
Thirteen-year-old Emma helped choose and hide the treats.  Roger kept the others inside, occupied with a game around the table.  We used the same scripture list from last year, and instructed each person that it was a guide, not a requirement, for their study.

Each person was invited to quietly find his bag and then to choose a place to sit and silently read.  Some perched in trees, while others sat on the grass or on the stairs near the house.  The weather cooperated so well last year, people stayed out for more than an hour before returning to the house; this year was a bit cooler, but outdoor study was still pleasant.  We followed with a short meeting, a song and family prayer.

This tradition has truly helped us emphasize the mission of Christ and our gratitude for Him.  It was a nice break from the rest of the day, spent together sharing the words of apostles and prophets at General Conference. 

I had hoped that this would be enough Easter festivities that nobody would feel a need to dye eggs -- especially since we used most of the dye pellets on Friday to color yarn!  Sometime this week, however, the younger boys will still want to use up some of those on-sale eggs as a craft base....

Additional photos from sxc.hu.

No Dead Ends

While recently driving solo in an unfamiliar state, I made some mistakes.  The terrain was comprised of prominent hilly mounds and the roads went around these in confusing patterns, making it difficult for me to navigate from memory and a map.  Adding to my mix of emotions was the heavy traffic and occasional roadblocks due to construction.  I needed to know where I was going, but I had never been there before.  Thankfully, I had an address and a GPS.

I use the GPS with the volume turned off.  A glance shows what to expect at the next turn and what should lead up to it.  When I misunderstand the directions, there is no berating or blame:  a new route is simply recalculated and I am soon on track again.  This instrument reminds me that, no matter how far off I get, there are no Dead Ends; until I arrive at my destination, I am en route and am still working on it.  Instead of a Dead End, every place in between me and my goal is a Living Middle.

At one point, during rush hour, I happily made an easy right turn at a place where three lanes of left-turning traffic were crowding to merge into one lane during a short light.  A few seconds down the road, I realized why I was the sole driver on my side of the train tracks:  the previous intersection was the only nearby crossing and I had missed it!

Instead of its normal, no-big-deal, recalculation response, the GPS flashed the instruction to "TURN AROUND."  It only took a few moments to decide how to obey.  I was soon on the right track, with a better idea of how and why the roads were organized the way they are.  This was understanding that I could use when traveling that way later.

Did the experience hurt me?  Not at all:  I made it to my destination safely, with plenty of time to spare.  Frankly, I saw a lot of scenery on the trip, but I remember the picture of that particular part of the road very clearly; those surroundings gained a greater significance than most of the places I was merely passing through, on the way to Someplace Else.  Turning around actually helped me to take stock of the situation better and to recognize more fully my reliance on and gratitude for the directions. 

As I have pondered on this experience, I have considered how I travel through life, along with the ways I may tend to view wrong turns, detours or instructions to turn around.

I had business to take care of, but I was focused on enjoying the trip.  This was easier to keep in mind because I was there to serve my husband.  I expected to be traversing unfamiliar territory, so I allowed extra time to accommodate unexpected issues -- which is something that I often neglect when I am dashing about at home. The fact is that today's home territory may actually be new and unfamiliar; tootling along may help a person arrive quickly, but focusing on passing through the next intersection may cause a traveler to miss important understanding of the journey.

What happens when we misunderstand the directions for our lives and make wrong turns?  Do we feel judged and humiliated, or do we patiently accept the recalculated route?  If we have to turn around, does that mean we are failures, or do we see this as an opportunity to understand the journey -- and ourselves -- even better?  Do we feel upset at or thankful for the directions?

I have noticed that sometimes the slight delay or the recalculated route puts me in the perfect spot to enjoy a beautiful vista or to avoid disaster.  Naturally, I do not see every averted problem, but sometimes I have received a reminder that proximate annoyances may be blessings in disguise.  I recall one day when a companion and I were running late.  About halfway to our destination, we reached an intersection where we were the second car waiting to turn left onto a country highway.  As the car in front of us made its move, another vehicle crashed into it from the other direction, promptly sobering us with the thought that our morning's irritations (dropped toothpaste lids and delays at stop signs) might have spared us from having the accident ourselves. 

Until we reach our destination, we are in the middle.  And as long as we keep moving, it's a living journey to enjoy.

There really are no Dead Ends.  Just Living Middles.

Photos from sxc.hu.

All Set? Not Yet!

I love words; they mean things.

As a missionary in New Hampshire a couple of decades ago, I mused on the (sometimes unintended) significance of local phrases.  I thought the way people used "wicked" didn't generally apply, as in "wicked good ice cream," but that it did get "wicked cold" in the winter!  Sometimes people would tell us to go away, because "I'm really ugly today."  In one city, we were informed, "I'm Catholic, and I'm not interesting."  Several times we were rejected with the assurance that, "We already have two Bibles here, and we don't need another Bible."  The phrase that has prompted the most thought, though, was, "No thanks -- we're all set."

We heard this several times every day.  The "No thanks" part didn't bother me:  we were there to give people a chance to choose Christ and that was a reminder that someone had just had another chance.  But what do people mean by saying they are "all set?" 

I thought of broken hearts and hardened hearts.  I thought of broken arms being immobilized in casts.  I thought of concrete and plaster of Paris:  brittle and permanent when set -- and you get one chance to make the impression perfect.  I didn't want to be "set," to be bound like that, even in someone's mind and heart!  One of the greatest blessings about being mortal is that we are changeable.  Like clay, we can become molded and formed with infinite variety.  Even when the main part is established, small details can be perfected.  At what point would a person want to be "all set" and permanent, and what consequences would follow?

Over the years, I have noticed that holding grudges is one way we "set" someone in our hearts, insisting that they are the way we have portrayed them and that they cannot change.  Becoming "set" means that we are limited, and so are others in our lives.  It closes us to opportunity and growth.

A couple of months ago, my sister-in-law recommended Carol Dweck's recent book, Mindset, which clearly addresses aspects of this topic and outlines ways to grow out of a limiting mindset.  I promptly put the book on hold at the library, but it is so popular, it only just became available.  After a couple of days I bought a personal copy to share and mark up. 

The author highlights differences between people who have "fixed" and "growth" mindsets, showing how fear causes fixed mindset folks to avoid challenges -- at great cost.  Believing that their intelligence "is what it is" leads people to limit experiences that might prove them weak, because each performance must verify to themselves and others their identity as a "smart" person.  When we operate from this paradigm, we surround ourselves with people who will, in effect, worship us.  This mindset often leads to withdrawing from opportunities and even lying and cheating, to cover the truth that we don't already know everything.  Life is an all-or-nothing deal:  I am already perfect or I am a complete failure who has to hide it.  Where can learning fit in if we are "all set?"

Consider what happens when we do not consider challenges as failures, but genuinely look forward to them as opportunities to grow and develop.   Unlike scores on a test, intelligence and potential are not fixed and cannot fully be known or predicted in advance.  Neither we nor are children should think we are "all set."

What could happen if, instead of saying, "I don't know how," we added "-- yet," to the end of such sentences?  "I have never been able to -- yet," implies that, despite past attempts, we still have hope and time for perseverance.  "I haven't tried that -- yet," gives us permission to try -- and to continue working until we can achieve mastery of something challenging -- which is the best way to develop self-confidence.



Today I have seen evidence that some of my children are limited by a mindset I may have helped them develop.  I am not a perfect parent -- not yet.  I hope I am not too set in my ways to give my children the skills they need to grow and develop.





Photos from sxc.hu.

Obedience -- A Child's Job

When my insightful neighbor was teaching "The Family Is Of God" to the children in our ward, she focused their attention on the various roles of family members, as condensed from The Family:  A Proclamation To the World.  It was easy to pick out the roles of fathers and mothers, but when she asked, "What is the child's job?" the children drew a blank.  It's not explicitly mentioned in the song.

"A child's job is to obey," she explained. 

Obedience is the first law of heaven, and it's also the first lesson of the home.  Indeed, without obedience there cannot be any other lessons.

I have thought a lot about obedience, particularly as it relates to agency.

While many suggest that these principles are opposed, they actually belong together:  only with agency is obedience a possibility.

Without agency -- the ability to choose right over wrong -- correct actions are mere compliance. 

Don't misunderstand:  I appreciate compliance.  But compliance is limited.  Compliance focuses on the motions, but those motions may miss the meaning completely.  It is possible to comply with our hearts in the wrong place, which qualifies us for a lesser blessing -- or even for no blessing at all.  Does a plotting prisoner in a concentration camp obey each time he falls into line, parrots a mantra or puts his head down to save his life?  Can a child who is encouraged to share a toy with another qualify for the full blessing if he gives with a slap and a dirty look, following up with unkindness later?  Despite his compliance, he has not obeyed.

Obedience, motivated by love, is not blind.  True obedience is a gift that requires the proper use of agency.  True obedience means deliberately choosing compliance of action with a willing heart.

Is obedience easy to teach?  Consider the effectiveness of situations you know where parents insist that "as long as you live in my house, you will do things my way":  the stereotypically resentful children often comply "for now," but depart from the family's way as soon as they leave.  Situations like these are often cited as examples to elevate agency at the expense of obedience, but they have missed the point of both.

When we are obedient, we trust someone or something and are willing to choose to follow.  Those who would teach obedience have to be obedient themselves and their lessons must focus on more than mere compliant outcomes.  Teaching thus requires modeled obedience, thoughtful explanations and discipline that helps inspire changes in attitude as well as behavior.

Learning obedience is a child's job.  But whether we are young or old, each person can rise above compliance and choose to obey.


Photos from sxc.hu or by the author.