Have you ever met a family where all the kids and parents share the same personality? I actually have. All of them were basically quiet and introverted, not much for conversation, not very excitable, not likely ever to suffer from hypertension.
Okay, I’ll admit it: it was eerie. I’m not used to this. In my family, all four of our children are completely unique; they don’t even resemble each other physically. In fact, I’ll bet that if you tried to draw a venn diagram of them, there wouldn’t be any overlaps whatsoever.
Yet I envied this other family. It seemed so much easier than my arrangement. Everyone in that home would agree on the same foods, the same activities, the same TV shows, the same vacations. When they went somewhere, the kids stayed obediently in line, just observing the world around them without comment. How does she do it? I found myself thinking about the mom.
I, on the other hand, had the most curious, active kids I’ve ever met. Outspoken, hilarious, opinionated— exhausting yet enchanting at the same time. While her kids were sitting obediently on the church pews, mine were secretly rolling objects they had smuggled into the chapel, under the pews toward the front. Apparently, the idea was to avoid hitting people’s ankles, but this did not meet with great success.
For three years, I am certain I did not make it through a single Sacrament meeting without taking at least one of them out. I held them against their will (no rewarding them by letting them run around), then I would come back in, sweaty and exhausted from this wrestling match, and try again.
The dentist would beg me to keep them from asking so many questions. This same proclivity to ask questions prompted people in the supermarket to ask if I’d had them tested. (“If Atlas is holding the world, what is he standing on?” “If owls come out at night to catch mice who come out at night, why don’t mice stop coming out at night?” “If there are capital letters and small letters, why aren’t there medium sized letters?” “If a sea plane lands on water, how do the people get out?” “If children need more sleep than grownups because they’re growing, why don’t grownups sleep more and grow into giants?”) I seriously wonder if there are parents somewhere in padded cells, sitting on a pile of library books and muttering to themselves.
And all of this made me question whether we had family harmony. I thought a quiet home filled with quiet children was the key. And then, one day I was listening to a concert and it occurred to me: If everyone is playing the same key, you don’t have harmony. You have monotony.
Not that having compliant kids is anything less than fantastic, but it’s not the only way to define family success. Only when musicians play different notes can you actually make harmony.
This changed my perspective and made me value the varying figurative chords and instruments we had swirling through the air. Were there some discordant notes? Of course. But overall, if I thought about it, we blended. It’s the same with marriage.
Barbershop quartets are having a bit of a revival, and I can’t help but marvel at the way they mingle different notes. Everyone doesn’t try to sing baritone. Each person finds their niche and does their own thing.
If you have an athlete, an artist, a lawyer, a peacemaker, a chef, and an engineer, you have the makings of intricate harmonies that can delight you for decades. Family gatherings can be a smorgasbord of styles and ideas, concepts that stretch your imagination, insights that penetrate your heart.
When each person is appreciated for what makes them distinct, there’s a welcomeness you can’t just find anywhere. When you know and accept someone’s quirks, you belong to a sort of secret club, the one we all want to join, where everyone is accepted and valued.
Disagreements are to be expected, but so are good manners. Respect must lead the way. And a sincere fascination with why someone has a certain opinion can dissipate contention.
Sometimes harmony means someone drops down to the alto line, while someone else creates their own counter melody an octave higher. The goal is no longer commonality but a wider view, and unity on the things we can embrace together.
What if your children choose other paths? All parents pray for their children, and exercise faith that Heavenly Father loves them and is watching over them. If we focus upon the Savior, we’ll want to extend love and acceptance rather than judgment and correction. This can build stronger family bonds than projecting constant disappointment.
Yes, when we all gather together, it’s tricky to balance our grown kids’ vegan, carnivore, and “was this grown sustainably?” diets. We pray no one will bring up politics. But we also celebrate the things we all love (games, books, movies, music, travel, and laughter come to mind). We cheer each other on. And we can’t wait to get together again.
To tell you the truth, it sounds great.
Joni Hilton is a Latter-day Saint author, Seminary teacher, and shares life hacks at https://m.youtube.com/c/jonihilton.
