When Your Kids Miss Out (and it’s your fault)

I have a friend whose kids don’t eat refined sugar.
I have another whose kids aren’t allowed to play with toy guns.
A different friend always gets her kids to bed by 7:30pm, no exceptions.

Every family has a culture and part of what makes their culture distinct is the lines they draw between what they will and will not do, regardless of what other families decide.

Speaking personally, our family draws a lot of lines.

We aren’t into Disney.
My girls don’t have Barbies.
My son doesn’t play baseball on Sundays.
We don’t have a tv or play video games.
We also don’t celebrate Halloween. (And that’s what got me thinking about this today.)

The Fear of Missing Out does not go away when you leave adolescence. It’s not something you grow out of when you get married or turn 35 or buy your first home. I still feel it. I feel it for myself and I most definitely feel it for my children.

I want my kids to have friends, to be a part of the fun. I want them to look back on their childhood and remember it being full of joy and laughter and friendship. I don’t want them to be the weirdos that no one invites over anymore because they’ve never played Minecraft.

But what do you do, then, if your personal conviction about something that “all the other kids get to do” means your kids have to miss out? Is it destined to make your kids resentful and painfully socially awkward, or can this become an opportunity for growth and character development? Can “missing out” actually be a blessing?

First of all, remind yourself that kids are resilient and will survive a little social exclusion. Give them lots of attachment and security at home and among trusted friends and family. They’ll be okay.

Also, think about the future and remember that what you do now, when your children are young, sets the stage for the years to come. Your expectations for them and their expectations of you will follow you well past their early childhood. Reinforce now that a) popular opinion is not always the right opinion, b) it’s alright to be different and live by different rules, and c) it’s a sign of maturity to be able to graciously say “No, thank you,” and walk away.

You do not want a teenager who expects to always be allowed to do whatever everyone else is doing. If your children are capable of bending your convictions now, when they are 6 and cry about not going to Lucy’s sleepover that “every other first grade girl is going to,” then good luck influencing their discernment when they’re 15 or 16 and all the same kids (and their boyfriends) are going to Lucy’s parents lake house for the weekend.

Then, think more proactively. When you think about your hopes and dreams for your kids, think bigger than your few small lines in the sand. Don’t feel like having a family rule about a few things means you have to be strict about everything. A family’s culture is more than their “don’ts.” If you can focus more—and help your kids focus more—on the things you do, then the kids won’t care as much about Mom not letting them buy a Barbie.

When I was a kid, my brother and I had some friends around the corner who were homeschooled. Their family culture was so very different from ours and they could have been perceived as socially-awkward by the “average” family. But that friend once (recently) joked that he had always loved coming to our house because we could watch a lot of tv and movies, but my brother loved his house because his dad did stuff like freeze their backyard into an ice rink in the winter.

The point is: you don’t have to give your kids everything. Just give them what you have to give. And give them the best of it. If you have a hang-up about sugar or nerf or witch costumes, offer your kids something else instead. Something good. Something they will love.

My kids don’t get to play video games or watch Frozen, but they do get to climb trees and use real knives and build fires and write songs and visit museums and ride the streetcar around downtown for fun.

Sure, its a different life I’m offering them. But it’s a good life. And they aren’t truly missing out on much. (Say that over and over to yourself if you need to.)

Remember, too, that feelings of “missing out” can be an opportunity to shape your kids hearts toward empathy for others.

Exercise your children’s sensitivity toward other kids who may be excluded and cultivate a variety of skills and interests in them so they can find a way to have fun with anyone. Then, teach your kids to encourage other children toward obedience of their family’s rules. Model for them what it looks like to consider others before themselves and to respect another’s conscience. And never tolerate them mocking or shaming another child for obeying their parents or not doing something that makes them uncomfortable or uneasy. (Big kids are notorious for this sort of “OMG, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’VE NEVER SEEN BLAH BLAH BLAH…”)

At the end of the day, remember to put things into perspective. It’s not really about Barbies or baseball or trick or treating. In fact, you might change your mind about these things as time goes by. Worry more about who your children are becoming than what they’re wearing or what games they’re playing and the specifics will work themselves out. As refined as it may become, your list of “yeses” and “nos” won’t matter at all if your children never learn to discern right from wrong. They’ll eventually need to be the ones drawing the line in the sand for themselves. This is just the groundwork.

So, parents, don’t apologize for saying “no” to your kids. Even though it might mean they miss out on something with their peers. And don’t worry that their social status at 9 is going to follow them into eternity and they’ll never have any friends or get married or find a job. They’ll be fine. You’re doing great.

(Repeat, if necessary.) “They’ll be fine. I’m doing great.”

Every family is different and lives by different rules. It’s alright to be a little peculiar. If you play your cards right, your kids will grow into discerning adults who are able to glean the best from what you gave them and make the rest into some awesome stories to tell around the dinner table.

”You think that’s weird? When I was a kid…”

 

 

 

 

Halloween, All Hallow’s Eve, and (some thoughts on) Religious Syncretism

It’s Halloween!
Or All Hallow’s Eve!
Or Sahmain!
Or whatever.

“Happy Holidays.”

My earliest memories of Halloween are of me donning my older brother’s football uniform so I could do the absolute bare minimum for the school costume parade in the third grade.

When I was young, our family’s participation (or lack of participation) evolved over time but, in general, we did not celebrate Halloween. By the time I was in middle school, I sometimes went out looking for candy with my friends, but my mom had adopted a full-on boycott. No candy for visitors. Front porch lights out.

I didn’t quite understand it then. But it makes more and more sense to me now.

Most of us don’t think too seriously about the finer points of syncretism and how it manifests itself in culture and in our religious traditions. Either we take for granted that all our favorite traditions are purely ours or we take for granted that no tradition can be pure. And, either way, we don’t really care too much.

Whether we admit it or not, much of what we do in church (and in life) is influenced by our own culture and the world around us. And some of us fight this influence more strongly than others. In the context of Christian worship, some churches follow a Regulative Principle of worship that says “whatever is not explicitly commanded/affirmed in the Bible has no place in Christian worship,” but most of us are not in this camp. So most will admit that many traditions are a matter of cultural preference–like the difference between an organ and an acoustic guitar–and most of these preferences are really benign. They may have theological implications, but they are not theological prescriptions.

The farther back we go in church history or the more we develop “new” traditions, the more they tend toward two extremes–either the church develops it’s own symbols and traditions based on their distinct Christian-ness or it adopts symbols and traditions of other religions/cultures and “christianizes” them for their own use (aka syncretism).

In 2017 America, since we seem so far removed from First Century paganism and Eastern religions, most Christians don’t give two thoughts about where their traditions came from. It’s assumed that, at this point, the potentially worldly roots of our traditions don’t matter anymore. We are, after all, a culture primarily influenced by Judeo-Christian traditions. And everyone else understand the Christian-ness of our symbols and traditions. Right? Well, maybe sorta. Or maybe not.

For most of America, today is Halloween. It’s an excuse to dress your kid up in funny or scary or ridiculously adorable costumes, visit with neighbors, and collect candy to get you through the long, cold nights until Thanksgiving (our next gluttonous holiday).

But for some people–primarily Catholics and some other Christians who fancy Catholicism–it’s All Hallow’s Eve. In some way or another, it’s a day to revel in the reign of Christ over evil and to mock the devil. (Some Catholics fast today in preparation for tomorrow’s Feast Day of All Saint’s Day so they save their candy for tomorrow. Bummer, right?)

 

 

People think I’m all kinds of crazy when I tell them we don’t celebrate Halloween. Apparently, it means I a) hate talking to my neighbors and giving them things; b) don’t want my kids to enjoy life; c) am just a stodgy old coot. In actuality, none of these things are true about me, I am a reasonable woman, and I have thought this through quite a bit.

Though my level of commitment to abstaining is still evolving–Will I hand out candy? Will we buy a pumpkin for the front stoop because it’s fall and pumpkins are cute? etc.–I am perfectly comfortable saying that, as a family, we don’t do Halloween. I believe this is a matter of personal conscience. It’s not something important enough for me to fight with friends over and it’s not something I’d draw a line about between myself and people I love. But it’s something I’m pretty committed to and I’m going to try and quickly explain my reasoning about the issue because, every year, someone seems surprised that I actually care enough to think about it.

So, here.
Reason with me now.

No one seems to agree about the exact origins of Halloween. Did the Catholic Church institute All Hallow’s Eve as a distinctly Christian holiday, or was it an attempt to christianize the ancient Celtic festival of Sahmain by slapping a Christian name on the same tradition? Were you there? Me neither. All you need is a quick Google search to prove that the jury is still out on this one. And this is true for many of our other holidays, too.

Young in our family life, we decided to try and focus on as many distinctly Christian traditions as possible and avoid pagan, secular, and Eastern traditions if we could. We downplayed Christmas (in the secular Santa sense) and embraced the season of Advent. We skipped the Easter Bunny entirely and focused on Resurrection Day. We tried to “purify” our family expressions of these great holidays as much as possible while admitting that it’s simply impossible to avoid all syncretism. The truth is that even our best intentions have left us with half-baked American traditions like Easter egg hunts and Christmas stockings. Whatever. Imperfect is better than nothing.

One of the biggest questions in my mind has always been about what, exactly, is the nature or intent of the thing we’re appropriating into our expression of our faith? Is this a purely cultural expression? Or is it a religious expression? Can the two every be truly separated?

Take for example Indian culture and the practice of yoga.
A few months ago, I asked my friends on Facebook whether they believed the practice of yoga was a) inherently spiritual, b) imputed with spirituality by those participating in it, or c) purely secular. Responses were mixed. But it has always seemed clear to me that a practice created specifically as a spiritual practice for another religion cannot be stripped of its spiritual element and simply secularized or christianized by another user. We are not dualists; nothing done with our spiritual bodies is purely biological.

But, wait! I eat Indian food! Isn’t some Indian food somewhere prepared by Hindus (potentially) offered to a Hindu god? Well, sure. And if someone came to my table and offered a prayer to Vishnu over my food, I could still eat it (Biblically speaking), but it might make me feel a little weird about it. But knowing someone next door in the YMCA may be doing yoga isn’t the same as actually doing yoga myself, is it? So I see eating Indian food as less like doing yoga and more like wearing yoga pants. Which might be wrong, but for different reasons. (That was a joke. Maybe.)

So, back to Halloween.

Some of my friends seem to think that the only people still celebrating pagan Celtic festivals like Samhain are the 12 Druids living on a commune in New Hampshire. But I can tell you for a fact that pagan Druid spirituality (along with Wicca and actual Satanism) are real. They exist in 21st Century America. And if I had not once stood in a room of a few hundred totally normal American citizens worshiping the planet Earth, I probably wouldn’t believe it either. (Ask me and I’ll tell you the story sometime.)

And this is not even to mention the absurd world of horror movies and haunted houses that capitalize on the scary sentiment of Halloween just to scare the crap out of you and your children. And I won’t even talk about actual spiritual warfare. Ugh.

Okay.
So you’ve decided that Halloween is still no big deal because you want to meet some neighbors and your kid looks really cute as Elsa from Frozen (you returned the Moana costume because it’s culturally insensitive).

Well, my Halloween loving friends, you’re not alone. And I don’t think you’re a terrible person or a devil worshiper. I just think you need to ask yourself some questions about how you’ll celebrate the holiday well.

First: if you are going to use the “All Hallow’s Eve” excuse/clause, you have to ask whether your observance of Halloween really resembles the Christian tradition at all. If you want to know the truth about your family traditions, ask your kids. What do they believe they are celebrating? What do the symbols mean to them?

If I ask your kids can say to me “Oh! We’re mocking the devil because Jesus is King!” I might say, “Well, heck. Right on!”

Second: are you neglecting some of the distinctly Christian traditions in place of the more “fun” ones? If you are a Protestant, did you even tell your kids about Reformation Day today? If you are a Catholic, did you take the opportunity to throw eggs at my car? (Joking again.)

And how should you celebrate? Well, consider how much your family and children miss out on the Christmas story when the entire Advent season is not observed. The same goes for the season of Lent and Easter. If you really believe Halloween is a Christian tradition, then express it as one and go all out. Slip some Testamints into those candy buckets. (Joking. Don’t do that. They taste gross.)

But, here’s the thing about celebrating Halloween: you might think that it’s totally cool and in good fun for Christians to go around the neighborhood merrily mocking the devil by wearing cute superhero costumes, but your neighbors are probably not in on the joke. They might be watching a movie about serial killers to commemorate the occasion or could be waiting in a bloody clown costume to scare the crap out of your kid when she rings the doorbell or could be standing around a tree in the woods chanting about their sacred mother.

Or maybe they’re all in superhero costumes, too, and it’s really no big deal. I’m willing to admit that kids in superhero costumes are really cute.

The short story is this: participating in Halloween just seems really confusing to me–less like wearing yoga pants and more like sniffing the yoga mat. (Gross, I know. Sorry about that picture.) And if I’m not going to do yoga, I’m not gonna sniff the mat. (Most you probably do yoga, so you just realized I wasted all your time.)

Okay, so that was a lot to say about something that, at the end of the day, isn’t really a big deal. Like I said, it’s not a line in the sand for me.

But I do kind of take Halloween seriously. At least seriously enough to think more about it than just what candy I’ll buy.

For the record, I bought kit-kats and fruit snacks. Because we don’t celebrate but we also don’t ever turn away a stranger who knocks on our door, no matter how they’re dressed.