War on Family?

How a selfish culture has lead to destruction

The other day I was chatting with my boyfriend Chad and we got to talking about whether we think there is a war on family or not.

I was quick to say that I did think that the family was being attacked. But I did not really have a super good reason as to why I thought that. I just said I could see how much brokenness there was within the family today; more so then I ever think there has been before.

As usual, Chad had a pretty well thought out response and reason on this topic. He’s a pretty smart guy. 

He told me that he did not like the term war on family because it makes it sound like a big group of people sat around a huge mafia type table and plotted the demise and destruction of the family as we know it. Which most likely did not happen!

He said that rather he thought there was a misconception about what it means to be a family. He talked about how the traditional thought of family, as a mom, dad and their kids was being challenged. More and more everyday people are saying that a family can be whatever you want it to be. Whether it be a group of people who are close to each other or two men and their adopted children.

This can be a hard thing to talk about I know, because lots of people were not given the luxury of having both a loving mother and a caring father at home. Sometimes parents pass away or other circumstances happen which lead to not all families looking the same or fitting a certain mold. I get that, and so does Chad.

By saying all this I’m not passing judgment on anyone and their experience of family.

What I am saying is that when a family is composed according to its original design (both a mother a father and their children) that is when the family can truly thrive even when the people making up the family are imperfect.

Then Chad and I got to talking about why then the family is breaking down and being torn apart.

We came to the conclusion that it is because our society is so self-centered. What is best for ME and MY needs and MY personal happiness? What will make ME feel good?

We talked about how when the cell phone or the internet or divorce or abortion or same sex “marriage” or pornography or the sexual revolution or the new wave feminist movement were invented or promoted the creators of these things were most likely not thinking about how they could best destroy families but rather they were thinking about “what will make ME happy and other INDIVIDUALS happy?”.

And the byproduct of these movements, inventions and advancements aimed at greater happiness has been a greater sense of loneliness, brokenness and despair. And ultimately a breakdown of the family.

In turn when the family is breaking down as a byproduct of SELFISH ideals, so the society, which is composed of families continues to fall apart.

What can we do to stop this? We can start by not just thinking about what is best for us and start looking at the bigger picture. We can strive to repair brokenness within our own homes. When it comes time to start our own families we can work hard to do things right. And we can work to support ideals and organizations which promote and support life and the family.

Some Loving Hoax's

A FEW SHORT STORIES

My parents are very resourceful people, and the following two stories prove their sheer cleverness.

Story 1: 

Every year the Larson family comes over to our house on December 31^st to bring in the new year with a party, games and lots of food. We have been doing this since I was a little girl, and to this day, even though we are spread all over the place, we all come together to celebrate the past year and the start of a new year.

When I was little, I felt so cool and grown up because New Year’s Eve was the only night of the year that I got to stay up until midnight, which is something that I greatly looked forward to. Little did I know that when I thought I was staying up until midnight, my parents and the Larson family parents rigged a great system so us kids were only staying up about 30min past our bedtime.

Needless to say, when I found out about this system, only a few years ago I might add, I was quite upset. Once I got over my feelings of betrayal I thought it was one of the funniest things I had ever heard.

You see, when New Year’s Eve rolled around, at about 4:00pm, our parents started turning all of the clocks in the house ahead in 15min increments, and then after we ate and us kids were playing in the basement, they would set the clocks forward every hour until it was about 10min to “midnight”. Then they would call us all up, we would do the countdown, drink our sparkling grape juice, dance around the house, and then off to bed we went. After which our parents had plenty of time to relax by themselves after our little heads had hit the pillow.  Clever, huh?

Story 2:

One bright and sunny summer day, a little 4 year old me was sitting on a rustic red, wooden picnic table chowing down on more then one slice of pink, juicy, crisp watermelon. I discovered a little, smooth, black seed inside of my watermelon and then like any curious little munchkin I asked my daddy what it was. My dad, this point sporting a horribly caterpillar like brown mustache on his upper lip, explained to me that it was a watermelon seed and that if I planted it a new watermelon would grow.

 I was completely fascinated by this concept of a little black seed growing into a big pink watermelon, and being a girl who preferred spending more time in the dirt then anywhere else, I decided that I would plant it. 

With seed in hand, I grabbed my little plastic yellow shovel and marched over to the dirt filled spot underneath the slide attached to my wooden swing set. I knelt down and dug a little hole, placed the seed in the hole and covered it with dirt. My mom helped me fill a little watering can with water and I sprinkled that cool, clear water over my little seed. 

Every single day, for the majority of the summer I faithfully watered my watermelon seed. I was starting to get discouraged because each day I would go look at the dirt covering my seed and every day it still looked like a pile of dirt. Until one beautiful day I skipped out to my small watermelon garden and lo and behold, there is was! Overnight my little black seed turned into a big beautiful watermelon! My little heart was overjoyed and excitedly I ran into my house to fetch my mom who helped me to harvest, cut and eat the fruits of my faithful 4 year old labor. It was the best watermelon I had ever tasted.

Now you might be thinking to yourself that this story seems a little bit two Jack and the Beanstalk ish. And yes, you are right, something about this story does not seem quite right. Until I was 16 years old I firmly believed that I grew that watermelon all by myself, and that it was the best darn watermelon that anyone had ever grown. Until one fateful night at the dinner table I was fondly remembering this magical time in my childhood when my mother, with the best of intentions I’m sure, crushed this joyful childhood memory. She could hardly contain her laughter when she explained to me that she and my dad realized that my seed would never grow into a watermelon and so once I was in bed my dad strategically placed a watermelon on top of that pile I dirt I had been watering for weeks for me to find in the morning. Obviously I fell for it.

After getting over my initial shock that I had lived a lie for the last 12 years of my life, I was able to laugh about the fact that my thumb was not as green as I thought.  


It is clear that Mr. and Mrs. Black don't mess around, and are never afraid to pull a little loving hoax.