Tag Archive for: family

"Zoe's perspective of minimalism is pure joy. She brings years of experience as a mother and a wife to the table, paired with an ongoing love of the simpler life."--Brian Gardner, Founder of No Sidebar

"Minimalism for Families is a must-read for anyone wanting to explore minimalism but feels held back by 'having a family.' Zoe, a mother of four and a military wife, gives approachable, practical, actionable and direct advice. If you follow the guide set forth in Minimalism for Families, you'll be able to declutter every room in your house and maintain your simplified home once it's achieved."-- Rebecca Shern, MPH, RDN, Creator of minimalwellness.com

"Zoe Kim has written a book on minimalism for families that is practical, encouraging, and motivating. And I'm glad she did--we need more guidance like this in the world today."--Joshua Becker, founder of Becoming Minimalist

 

Organizing your home and leading a minimalist lifestyle can seem like a daydream for busy families―but it’s possible! Designed for families who want to declutter and embrace minimalism into their life and home, Minimalism for Families lays out a room-by-room strategy to conquer chaos and show your family how much more time, space, and energy you gain when you live with less.

Minimalism for Families contains:

  • An Introduction to Minimalism covering essential information including what minimalism is, its lifestyle benefits, and how to adopt and integrate the mindset into your life
  • A Plan for Every Room providing practical and realistic strategies for decluttering your family home one room at a time
  • Tips for Team Effort tactics for getting your family on board with minimalism, plus approaches to address resistance to minimalism as a lifestyle

Minimalism for Families features techniques to declutter and tidy up every room: Living Areas, Kitchen, Bedrooms, Home Office, Bathroom, Basements, Attics, and Other Storage Spaces.

Clean up your family home for a clear purpose with Minimalism for Families.

 

About the author:  Zoë Kim stumbled upon voluntary simplicity and minimalism 6 years ago through Zero Waste Home. She's a regular mom of four who found herself stressed and exhausted, spending more time doing things with her stuff than doing things with her family. It was in that stress and exhaustion that her desire to live lighter was born. As she shed her layers of possessions she began to see the real cost of her stuff—and it was way overpriced!

Zoë Kim is the creator of The Minimalist Plate, a website that inspires families to own fewer possessions to make room for what matters most. She is also a contributor at The Huffington Post and No Sidebar.

She is passionate about helping other families let go of what’s weighing them down so they can find and experience the freedom in owning less.
She lives outside Atlanta with her family.

 

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I will make several cents - with thanks.  It all helps!

A message every adult should read because children are watching you and
doing as you do, not as you say.

Father and child, pivotal parenting

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you hang my first painting on the
refrigerator, and I immediately wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned
that it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make my favorite cake for me,
and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life.

When you thought I wasn't looking I heard you say a prayer, and I knew that
there is a God I could always talk to, and I learned to trust in Him.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you make a meal and take it to a
friend who was sick, and I learned that we all have to help take care of
each other.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you take care of our house and
everyone in it, and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw how you handled your
responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good, and I learned that I would
have to be responsible when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw tears come from your eyes, and I
learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw that you cared, and I wanted to be
everything that I could be..

When you thought I wasn't looking I learned most of life's lessons that I
need to know to be a good and productive person when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking I looked at you and wanted to say,' Thanks
for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking.'




Each of us (parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, teacher, nurse, friend)
influences the life of a child.

How will you touch the life of someone today?
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply.
Speak kindly.

Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant combine stories, research, and practical advice to help you build strength for life's challenges—and help your family and community do the same.

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday morning. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it:

I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whomever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say.

"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. It's too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital," he continued; "Let me tell you something that has helped me keep my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of a "thousand marbles."

"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years.

Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3,900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, Tom, I'm getting to the important part.




It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1,000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear.

Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away. I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life.

 

There's nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight.

Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time.
It was nice to meet you Tom. I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band. This is a 75 year old man, K9NZQ, clear and going QRT, good morning!"





You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter.

Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. "C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."

"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. And hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles."

 

What I love about stories is that they can speak to our soul. This is only one of many great stories in my book, Charging the Human Battery...50 Ways to Motivate Yourself.   Sometimes, our greatest challenge is getting inside our own heads to determine...what makes us tick? That's what this book is all about!

Is it just me or is 24 hours really not as long as it used to be? And what about our kids? They're growing up at warp speed. Probably a blessing we're all too busy to notice them morphing into young adults before our eyes, otherwise how scary would that be? Of course, when it comes to other people's kids, you can't miss the changes, but with our own... most of us have a terminal case of blind spots. Unfortunately, turning a blind eye to reality isn't the most effective way to parent.

 

Life is all about change and our ability to deal with it. Our bodies, our feelings, our kids, our relationships, our life situation... all constantly changing. (So are all the molecules on your kitchen table, but we can save that for another time.) The more I meditate and breathe and read and write and think and teach, the clearer the changing nature of life becomes. The more I twist my torso into improbable positions (Hey, it's not painful, it's yoga!) the more I learn how flexibility is the best tool I've got going for me.

"Steady in the winds of change," my yoga teacher says. Steady as she goes. Steady, strong, centered. Those are the keystones to effective parenting. But steady doesn't mean "stuck" and true strength requires insight into what's needed right now.

 

Suppose you've always had a close relationship with your 12-year-old daughter. She's been a kid who's never held back from telling you everything she thinks and feels. You've prided yourself on the closeness you two share and how relationship reflects so positively on your parenting skills. Then one day you walk past her room and the door's closed. You go in. She's listening to music and reading. "Hi Dad," she grins, not removing her headphones.

 

You sit on the bed. "Hi, sweetheart. So tell me, what's new with you?"

 

"Nothing."

 

An awkward silence follows.

 

"You want something, Dad?"

 

You shake your head and slowly walk toward the door. "Dad," your daughter says sweetly, "Next time could you please knock?"

 

"Sure, honey," your smile belies the ice pick skewering your heart. In the hallway your mind reels. Why should I have to knock at my own child's door?! We've never had closed doors between us! She must be hiding something. I'm going back in there and demand that she tell me what's going on. I couldn't talk to my father about anything that really mattered, so I'm going to make damn sure that my daughter...

 

WAIT!

 

What's going on here?

Is this about your 12-year-old's normal desire for some privacy and respect or is it about your own fear that your relationship with your child is changing into... who knows what?

 




Should you zig or zag? If you zig only because it's how you've always reacted when you're hurt then you're not paying attention to your child's needs. Nor are you awake to the parenting challenge in front of you. An unwillingness to change in spite of changes happening all around is a sure-fire formula for unhappiness.

 

The result will be internal struggles and plenty of ongoing conflicts with your ever-changing tween or teen.

What to do? How about going for a walk? An actual walk is great if you can swing it, but any conscious choice to take a head-clearing break will help. While you're in the self-imposed time out ask yourself:

What does my child need from me now? It's an essential question whenever you feel stuck in your parenting mission. Children's behavior at any time, any age, broadcasts a need. Your job is to identify their need as accurately as possible then offer your help. Of course, there's no formula that will always work because their needs constantly change. One moment she'll need a hug and an encouraging word. Another moment he'll need a sympathetic ear and no words from you at all. One time they'll need you to set clear limits with unambiguous consequences for noncompliance. Another time they'll need you to respect the meaning of a closed door without taking it personally.

 

Where do your needs as a parent come in? That depends. You're absolutely within your rights to have your role, your values, your rules and your property respected. Those are valid needs. But when you need to be needed by your child or you need to use your child to look good in the eyes of others, that's unhealthy. Always be an adult and take care of your own changing needs as best as you can. Your kids have a big enough job growing up and learning to take care of themselves without having to take care of you too.

Change is our constant companion on this journey we call life. Our kids are the clearest evidence of that. They're rapidly developing into the independent young adults. As parents we're privileged to have an essential role in their unfolding. If we pay close attention we get to witness parts of the process. We also have the honor of helping them become who they are. Part of the reward is an opportunity to learn and grow along with them.

 

It's a new year. Change is the air we breathe. The best we can do for ourselves and our family is to remain as steady as possible. It also helps to keep your eyes, your mind, and your heart open. That's what our kids need most from us.

 

Annie Fox, M.Ed. is an award winning author, educator, and online adviser for parents and teens. AnnieFox.com

Read excerpts from her books: Too Stressed to Think? and the new Middle School Confidential™ series. Download (free) her entire book:Teen Survival Guide to Dating & Relating.

Listen to her podcast series "Family Confidential: Secrets of Successful Parenting" FamilyConfidential.com.

 

sunrise

 

While waiting to pick up a friend at the airport in Portland, Oregon, I had one of those life changing experiences that you hear other people talk about. You know, the kind that sneaks up on you unexpectedly? Well, this one occurred a mere two feet away from me!

Straining to locate my friend among the passengers deplaning through the jetway, I noticed a man coming toward me carrying two light bags. He stopped right next to me to greet his family.

First, he motioned to his youngest son (maybe six years old) as he laid down his bags. They gave each other a long, and movingly loving hug. As they separated enough to look in each other's face, I heard the father say, "It's so good to see you, son. I missed you so much!" His son smiled somewhat shyly, diverted his eyes, and replied softly, "Me too, Dad!"

Then the man stood up, gazed in the eyes of his oldest son (maybe 9 or 10) and while cupping his son's face in his hands he said, "You're already quite the young man. I love you very much Zach!" They too hugged a most loving, tender hug. His son said nothing. No reply was necessary

While this was happening, a baby girl (perhaps one or one and a half) was squirming excitedly in her mother's arms, never once taking her little eyes off the wonderful sight of her returning father. The man said, "Hi babygirl!" as he gently took the child from her mother. He quickly kissed her face all over and then held her close to his chest while rocking her from side to side. The little girl instantly relaxed and simply laid her head on his shoulder and remained motionless in total pure contentment.

After several moments, he handed his daughter to his oldest son and declared, "I've saved the best for last!" and proceeded to give his wife the longest, most passionate kiss I ever remember seeing. He gazed into her eyes for several seconds and then silently mouthed, "I love you so much!" They stared into each other's eyes, beaming big smiles at one another, while holding both hands. For an instant, they reminded me of newlyweds but I knew by the age of their kids that they couldn't be. I puzzled about it for a moment, then realized how totally engrossed I was in the wonderful display of unconditional love not more than an arm's length away from me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if I were invading something sacred, but was amazed to hear my own voice nervously ask, "Wow! How long have you two been married?"

"Been together fourteen years total, married twelve of those," he replied without breaking his gaze from his lovely wife's face. "Well then, how long have you been away?" I asked. The man finally looked at me, still beaming his joyous smile and told me, "Two whole days!"

Two days?! I was stunned! I was certain by the intensity of the greeting I just witnessed that he'd been gone for at least several weeks, if not months, and I know my expression betrayed me. So I said almost offhandedly, hoping to end my intrusion with some semblance of grace (and to get back to searching for my friend), "I hope my marriage is still that passionate after twelve years!"

The man suddenly stopped smiling. He looked me straight in the eye, and with an intensity that burned right into my soul, he told me something that left me a different person. He told me, "Don't hope friend...decide." Then he flashed me his wonderful smile again, shook my hand and said, "God bless!" With that, he and his family turned and energetically strode away together

I was still watching that exceptional man and his special family walk just out of sight when my friend came up to me and asked, "What'cha looking at?" Without hesitating, and with a curious sense of certainty, I replied, "My future!"


Michael D. Hargrove

© Copyright 1997 by Michael D. Hargrove. All rights reserved. Used with author's permission. Visit Michael's website at: www.bluinc.com

 

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” 

? James Baldwin

children_listening

     "Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.   "Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."

My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington  and  Oregon  He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.

The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his powers.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived... But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue..

Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.

But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."

I listened as she read.. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog  in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed..

Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention.. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog "Can you tell me about him?"

The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said..

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"

Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.

At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne.  Together he and Cheyenne  explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and  Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and  Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne  made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel  Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed.. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article....

Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. .. ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.


     This story was written by Catherine Moore and originally published here 

Awakened by the phone ringing at 11:35 p.m., I fumble for the receiver beside my bed. 

Who would be calling at this time of night?

"Hello," I mumble, my brain barely functioning.

"Mom, I'm not in jail." The voice at the other end belongs to my 21-year-old daughter, Rachel.

"What?" My heart is beginning to race and my imagination is running away with me. It's amazing how quickly those words fully awaken me.

"I'm not actually in jail," my daughter continues. "I'm fine. It's my car."

"What's the matter?" I ask, trying to make sense of what I am hearing.

"My car was impounded. I found out that since it's registered in your name, you have to be the one to get it out." There is a sense of urgency in her voice.

"At this hour of the night?"

I knew earlier in the day that her car had been missing. She assumed it had been towed and was trying to locate it. Now she is calling from the city impoundment lot that closed at midnight, (or so I thought.) It's located in the industrial area of a city of 900,000 people. I'm not at all familiar with that part of the city and I avoid it even in daylight. Travel there alone at night? Certainly not.

I awaken my husband, explaining the situation. Fortunately his concern for our daughter wins out over his anger at being awakened.

After driving down the freeway, we wind our way down the darkened streets in the industrial area of the city. The world is eerily silent except for an occasional passing car.
"I hope some day that she will believe the signs she reads," I say wistfully. "She parked in the half-empty parking lot of an apartment building to visit a friend this morning and ended up staying for three hours. She ignored the sign that said 'unauthorized vehicles will be towed at the owner's expense.'"

A university student, Rachel had a penchant for parking in unauthorized places in the cramped lots at school, and had already collected her share of parking tickets. However, this is her first towing experience.

When we arrive at the impoundment lot, Rachel and her room-mate are waiting for us and are in a good mood. In fact, she gets me laughing too. The woman at the desk stares at us in disbelief. No doubt she had seen a good many confrontations between angry parents and children in similar situations - or has dealt with angry car owners coming to claim their cars. No doubt laughter in her office is an extremely rare thing.

"Why are you laughing?" I ask.

"It was a choice between crying and laughing," Rachel says. "I choose to laugh."

"And why did you wait until 11:30 to pick up your car?" I ask.

She explains that although she had gotten off work at 8 p.m., she had chosen to watch her favorite T.V. program at 10 p.m. as a way to "de-stress" before she and her friend left to pick up her car.

All it takes is my husband's driver's license for identification, and she is free to take her 1991 Chevy Sprint rust bucket home. She still has a hefty fee to pay, but that's now her problem.

As my husband and I drive home, a little short of sleep, I think of other parents who get phone calls in the night from their children - who really are in jail, or from police reporting that their child was in an accident, or worse. I silently breathe a prayer of "thanks" to the Lord that our daughter is safe.

A "jailed" car is trivial in comparison to other things that could have happened. So many things in life are irritating, annoying, and inconvenient at the time, but are of no lasting consequences. I think my daughter's philosophy is a good one. I, too, choose to laugh.

Janet Seever
Copyright © 2004

The mother of two adult children, Janet Seever lives in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. She writes for Word Alive magazine, a publication of Wycliffe Canada, and has had articles published previously in magazines and on the Web. Janet lives her life with a strong faith and still can find reasons to laugh. You can read more of her writing at: www.inscribe.org/janetseever