In which I unabashedly compare myself to Christ

Today a mother asked me if I knew of any way I could help to get her three teenage children to do their chores.  You can imagine all of the ways I should have simply backed away from such a monumental request - as if she had also asked that I prove scientifically the existence of one or more gods or turn water to wine.  I'm not gonna lie, I felt a little put on the spot.  Not to push the Christ references but I did hum to myself Herod's Song from JC Superstar:

"So you are the Counselor,

the great Family Counselor!

Get my kids to do their chores,

to pick up brooms when they get bored!"

Unfortunately over the past few years I've faced this question with alarming frequency which means I have a false sense of security in giving a litany of answers, few of which may ever prove helpful because the simple fact of the matter is that no one wants to do their chores and once a culture of complacency has been established it is a helluva thing to break.  But true to form I ran through the standard responses (i.e., chores charts, contingent reward systems, etc.) until I stumbled across using an old tool in a new light.

I should explain that I'm kind of a values hound.  I love values talk and I can rant for days on it.  My personal albeit crafted-from-many-many-greats-including-Ben-Franklin-and-Stephen-Covey philosophy is that our values are the compass we unwittingly follow on the seas to our goals.  The goal is the shoreline, the value the wind in the sails.  (I can't remember if I've stolen that metaphor at this moment but if I have please let me know so that I can site my source correctly).  I also feel there is a profound power in naming things.  It gives us language.  Form to the abstract; a way to question our motives simply but deeply.  Our language helps shape our culture, our culture our habits, and our habits our lives.

So confronted with the herculean task of teenagers and chores I found myself asking about family values and their shared vision for the household.  Family Value charts are nothing new in my line of work but using them to reframe the discussion of chores to be a discussion of how we show our values rather than what we have or haven't done is new to me.  A positive reflection of our idealized selves and the language to show our appreciation purposefully.

And as is always the case when I feel I've said something right with a family I work with, I can't help but wonder how effectively I have done these things in my own home.  Samantha and I talk a lot about our future and who we want to be and how we want to live, but we haven't outlined those values directly in a way that would allow me to see clean dishes and thank her for her demonstration of cleanliness and order; friendship and love. 

I think I might need a family value chart of my own.



*** Bonus reading material***


These are not groundbreaking ideas or tactics.  For more wonderful thoughts on values and culture, check out Stephen Covey's "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" or read anything put together online regarding Ben Franklin's Virtuous Life. 

The Amazing Spider-Man

I need to return to this effort.  Purely for my own sake but also to attempt something like thought and reason in a world where I all too often shut down awash in the waves of pop culture and streaming videos on demand from Netflix.

Little time at this direct moment, but here is a poem I had written some months ago I thought to share.

"The Amazing Spider-Man"

 

Dinner before a movie

My wife, myself, and two other couples –

A man’s night out turned evening affair.

We drink happy hour specials and wait anxiously for wings.

Having recently returned from a vacation to my hometown

I have spent the last week grieving the contact

And loneliness my new not-quite-home leaves

With its empty nights

And unreturned calls.

I relish tonight’s attention

And I smile.

I entertain.

I offer wit and banter.

I discuss the great heroes of our age:

Iron-Man, Spider-Man, the Cap and Fury

Their newest adventures and what adventures lay before

In space, on screen and page

And in countless meandering conversations such as this.

My wife whispers to me that I am an obsessed child

And I pause

I am only recounting the stories of others

Their visions, their memories, their greatness

And I find myself at a loss and in search for something real.

Visceral.

A tangible tale of my own to share.

 

Unwilling to lose my audience I grasp

And recount how on yesterday’s run –

I’ve started to run mostly to fix my form you understand;

A hearty chuckle from all around –

On my run I stared to the river cradling the setting sun.

I became distracted by distressed splashing in the distance

And squinting I realized ducks were fighting for the right to mate.

No.

No.

Not that at all.

The males were holding the female’s wings and taking turns –

Have you seen a duck’s penis?  It’s a horrid thing.

A corkscrew of evolution’s bastard parts –

I recount my tale of fowl fornication

Of rape and blood

And a single raised eyebrow from my wife

Accompanied by the silence of my compatriots tells me

Perhaps

I should return to Spider-Man.

Between the fantastic phantasmagoria of my childhood

And the blood of the earth

We need to see these things through a screen

A filter

And in the car I am smacked on the shoulder and scolded for this very thing

My lack of filter

Ruining a pleasant dinner

Before our 8:15 showing of

The Amazing Spider-Man.