So we had twelve or thirteen kids come over to our home on a weekly basis. It was an interdenominational, interracial group. The only thing they had in common was that they were in the same school district. They understood up front that this was on a trial basis to see if they liked getting together once a week. We set up a contract so that everyone would understand and agree on what was to happen. We came up with some guidelines for behavior, such as “when one person is talking, everyone else listens.” And we tried to plan the meetings around the things they wanted to talk about.
In the beginning we talked about things like honesty, respect, apologizing for mistakes, having a sense of contribution. The group evolved to the point where they started asking questions like “What is trust?” and “What is peer pressure?” My wife and I did research on whatever they asked about and presented it at the following week’s meeting. We didn’t do a lot of teaching through words. We spent maybe fifteen minutes doing that, but from there it went to physical activities. Some activities were outdoors; some were indoors. All of them highlighted the concepts they told us they wanted to hear about.
After we completed that first contract, the kids were very eager to continue with the second. They liked having a place where they could talk and ask questions about things that were important to them. And the parents appreciated it, too. One of the mothers called us up to say, “I don’t know what you do at your house for that hour and a half to two hours, but it must be something remarkable. The other day I made a negative comment to my daughter about someone else, and she said, ‘You know, Mom, we really don’t know that girl. We shouldn’t be saying that. That’s just what we’re hearing from someone else.’ I’m so glad she brought that to my attention. I wish adults could do this, too.”
Can you see how tremendously renewing this tradition of serving together can be? It’s spiritually renewing because it’s focused on something higher than self. It can also be part of fulfilling and renewing your family mission statement.
Depending on the nature of the service, it can be mentally or physically renewing as well. It can involve developing talents, learning new concepts or skills, or being involved in physical activity. And there’s tremendous social renewal in it: Can you imagine anything more bonding, more unifying, more energizing to the relationship than working together to accomplish something that is really meaningful and worthwhile?
Having Fun Together
Probably the most important dimension of all these traditions is having fun together—genuinely enjoying one another, enjoying the home environment, making home and family the happiest, biggest “warm fuzzy” in people’s lives. Having fun together is so vital and so important that it could even be listed as a tradition in and of itself. And it can be nurtured and expressed in many ways.
In our family we’ve built a lot of social camaraderie around humor. For example, we have a number of what we call “Covey cult films.” These movies are hilarious, and we frequently watch them together and have the funniest times. Everyone enjoys them immensely. We’ve learned the dialogue so well that many times we get into situations and the whole family reenacts an entire scene from the movie, word for word. Everyone cracks up and outsiders wonder.
As we observed in Habit 1, humor puts things in perspective so you don’t take yourself too seriously. You don’t get hung up on small issues or other little irritating things that can be divisive and create polarization in the family. Sometimes it takes only one person to inject a little humor into the situation and change the entire course of an event or turn an otherwise mundane task into an adventure.
Maria (daughter):
I remember when we lived in Hawaii, Dad used to give Mom Saturdays sometimes to recover from all of us. He’d say, “Okay, kids, today I’m taking you all on adventures.” We’d never know what the adventures were going to be. We were so excited. We didn’t know this until later, but he’d make them up as he went along.
The first adventure might be to go swimming in the ocean. Then we’d go to Goo’s Store, and everyone would get an ice cream cone. Then we’d hike a little trail. There might be seven adventures in all, and each of them would be a big event.
I also remember Dad taking us to the swimming pool and playing with us for hours—just throwing us around. He was crazy. He had no inhibitions, no embarrassment at all. A lot of parents won’t play with their kids, but Mom and Dad were both very fun-loving and would always play with us and do things with us.
David (son):
I remember when it would be Dad’s turn to drive the car pool. We’d have this whole car full of kids, and Dad would do the funniest, the craziest things. He’d tell jokes. He’d get people to recite a poem or sing a song. He always had everyone in stitches.
As we got older, we would sometimes feel embarrassed by his behavior. But he’d always say, “Okay. Crazy or boring—take your choice.”
“Boring!” we’d say. “Don’t embarrass us, Dad.” So he would just sit there stiff and silent. But then the other kids would yell, “Crazy! We want crazy!” And off he’d go again. The kids in the car pool just loved it.
Sandra:
I think there are some traditions that should have never gotten started—and they are very hard to stop! For instance, one time during dinner Stephen was called to the phone for a long-distance conversation with some business associates. The boys were anxious for him to get off the phone, and they kept pleading with him in pantomime to hang up. But he just waved them off and put his finger to his lips in a hushing motion.
Finally realizing that their father couldn’t possibly keep up his end of the business conversation and negotiation and keep them occupied and quiet at the same time, they recognized his vulnerability and immediately acted upon it. One boy got a jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard and started spreading it on his shiny bald head. Another put a layer of red raspberry jam on top of the peanut butter, and a third boy topped it with a slice of Wonder bread. They built a perfectly marvelous sandwich on the top of his head, and there was nothing he could do about it.
After that they looked forward to this opportunity every time he was caught on a long-distance phone call. They especially enjoyed it if their friends were there to witness it. Stephen wasn’t too excited about this tradition, but the final blow to his ego came on a hot summer evening when we were sitting on the lawn with some neighbors and friends watching a performance by some of our younger children, who were using the front porch as their stage.
A car full of teenagers pulled up, coming to a screeching stop. Five or six of them jumped out of the car and ran toward my husband. They were on a video-recording scavenger hunt. “Mr. Covey! Mr. Covey!” they cried. “We need you! We have to win this game. Please help us out.” They surrounded him with jars of peanut butter and jam and a loaf of bread and made a glorious sandwich atop the crown of his head, videotaping the entire production. They finally left and Stephen went into the house to wash off his head. He then returned to watch the rest of the plays.
Just as he (and our astonished neighbors) had settled down, a second car full of enthusiastic and eager teenagers pulled into the driveway. They ran to him with the same request. They assured him that they knew how to make the sandwich since they had been well taught by Sean, David, and Stephen.
Before the night was over, three cars managed to win their points by following suit. Our neighbor, whose children hosted the party, said the highlight of the evening was the playback of the peanut butter sandwich episode. They assured us that Stephen was the star of the video scavenger hunt.
What an honor—and what a tradition!
Nurturing the Spirit of Renewal
Whatever traditions you decide to create in your family culture, you’ll find there’s a lot you can do that will nurture the “spirit” or feeling of renewal in your everyday interactions.
Sandra:
One simple tradition that we’ve developed through the years is that of making a fuss over comings and goings. When the children come home from school, it takes only a few minutes to greet them warmly and ask about their day. As they put their books away, take their coats off, and start to unwind, I have found it’s nice to take time out from whatever I am doing and concentrate on them—to ask how their day went, to sense their attitude, spirit, or mood, and to help them prepare some fruit, a drink, or a snack as we talk it over. It’s so easy to keep being involved in the things that you were doing before they came, but it really enriches the relationship when you stop completely and focus on them—even follow them into their bedroom, asking questions and getting involved in their life and day’s activities.