I
was born into one of those “yours mine and ours” kind of families. Both of my
parents had been previously married; my father had been married twice before. I
had a half-sister from my father’s first marriage, and a half-brother from my
mother’s first marriage. Then there was me, followed by my younger brother.
We
lived in New Orleans, exotic, yes, but we lived in a fairly typical post-World
War II American suburb. The subdivision was long blocks of three-bedroom ranch
houses. I was smack in the flood of the famous Baby Boom, and so I knew
overcrowded schools and everything else that came for the Boomers.
At
the time, most of us didn’t think in terms of happy or unhappy families. Our
families just were. Some families
were clearly better off financially than others, but I never asked whether my
own family was happy. I don’t really think any of us did. Some families were
large and others small. Some did a lot of screaming at each other (mine was
relatively small and extraordinarily quiet).
But
even the screaming wasn’t considered bizarre; it was just something that came
along with some families. (The one really loud family in our neighborhood that
I remember best had two parents and six children living in a three-bedroom
house, and five of the six children were boys.) (I’d probably be a screamer,
too.)
Children
accept all kinds of situations as normal, because it is normal for them. It’s
what they know. It’s the familiar. It may be far from ideal, but there’s a
security in the familiar. And I know there can also be insecurity in the
familiar.
It
wasn’t until I was older that I began to understand many things about my own
family that I didn’t see as a child. Every family has tensions; every family
has brokenness. Broken people bring brokenness into every family. Both of my
parents had been divorced, and I think there was often a determination to make
this marriage work. But I know the possibility occurred to both of them.
But
brokenness does not preclude happiness; families can be happy in spite of a lot
of things stacked against them. But what I’ve learned in my own marriage is
that it takes work – lots of work. And it’s helped enormously that both of us
share the same faith.
Over
at The High Calling, we’re
starting a book discussion on The
Secrets of Happy Families by Bruce Feiler. Feiler likes lists, and the
book promises to have lots of them. What he’s done is to look at the studies,
the research, the anecdotes, and his own experience, and identified what happy
families seem to have in common. It promises to be a lively discussion – after all, we
all have an opinion on families.
Related:
NPR
did a
story and interview with Bruce Feiler.
Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
Thanks for this link to the interview, Glynn. I'll head over to listen next.
ReplyDeleteYou cover a lot of deep territory here. I especially love what you say about sharing faith with your wife. That makes a difference, doesn't it? My husband was not a believer until thirteen years into our marriage. It changed so many things when he was baptized. And I thought we had a pretty good marriage before.