Growing up with the Art of Loving

"I'm one of five," I say, "5 kids in 8 years". As I get older, I realize that some of the most interesting things about my family are the things that feel normal to us. We were raised with the Art of Loving, taught with phrases, with example, and with responses to new situations. I want to share what that was like.

Childhood photo of four of the five of us kids, my Mom was probably holding my youngest sister.

Reverse competition

I remember many times, being at an impasse with a sibling. We'd be arguing over a toy or activity and ask Mom to intervene. We'd each present our case, wanting her to side with our way and make it happen. She would respond, not with 'well who had it first?' or 'who got to pick last time?', rather, she would step completely out of the details of the situation and ask, "So who's going to be the first to love?".

Being the first to love was a cool thing to do. It earned you cosmic points in the game of a good life. I am very competitive by nature and found these reverse challenges particularly unnerving and awesome. It was like this grand trick, POW. Just slice through whatever nonsense was going on and get straight to what matters: love.

Not always, but sometimes then, there was a rush. "I'll be the first to love! She can have it!", "No I can be the first to love too, we can watch your movie instead!" Sometimes this went so far as for us to request that a punishment, which had been chosen for another sibling's error, would also apply to us in solidarity, so as to lessen their loneliness and embarrassment with our companionship.

Pick your battles

The house really operated with love as the most important thing. Often, the impact of that belief was that other things were relatively less important, and forgiveness was common. Kids break dishes. Kids ruin clothes. Kids make messes. Sometimes, kids scratch drawings into the headboards of their heirloom antique beds.

It sounds simple, but when we did these things, we did not get yelled at or called names or told we were bad. We got side hugs, kisses on our heads, and smiles while Mom said, "everything crumbles". Then we got huge and sweet looks into our eyes while our parents carefully explained why a behavior was not preferred, but also firmly stated that love was the most important thing anyway.

Infinite joy

So much of what we did as kids was celebrated. From the outfits we picked out to wear for the day, to our dance moves in the living room before bed, to our elaborate setups of toys or costumes or skits.

Part of where the joy came from was seeing the good in each of us. Our household was pretty egalitarian in structure. The opinions and desires of the kids were not taken to be lesser than that of the adults. It always felt like my parents were listening to us, asking, and being ready to learn from how we saw the world.

My Mom recently said, "We saw each of you as complete, infinite human souls, even though you were kids".

So when we claimed ownership of a new throw blanket Mom had picked out for herself, she would see the good in us: and say something like, "I see you also appreciate warmth and coziness." Or when we took scissors to the only copies family photos, giving them stylish if awkward corners and pasting them into our personal scrapbooks (see above), my parents would see the good in us and say something like, "I'm so glad you feel connected to the life and story of our family want to include it in your scrapbook". And when we made and then walked away from huge messes after failed experimental baking sessions, our parents would see the good in us and say something like, "they were learning to cook with all their enthusiasm and then got tired out!"

Even when it was very clear we had done something wrong, it was always the behavior that was identified as unacceptable, while we remained good people in good standing, who had done something bad. We were never called bad people.

Making Space

Mom and Dad decided things, of course, but they asked us first. We would have family meetings to discuss each person's goals for a weekend, and see if there was an option to make the most people happy. If there was a bit of our schedule or one person's behavior that seemed to be producing repeatable conflict over a period of time, we sat down to talk it out.

There was also a firm belief that it was possible for a divine presence to join us when a situation was approached in love. My Mom explains, "So I had many experiences of calming down, becoming quiet inside, asking for his presence among us as I listened or spoke." And we often felt this third reality, that showed up if we were lucky in the setting of mutual love. And it would help to clarify the specific decisions at hand. Achieving that was the goal of our routine family meetings.

Family photo, Summer 2021, reunification after a year and half of pandemic separation.

Without boxes

Similarly, we were not boxed in. Our parents did not let any of us develop reputation ruts as being 'the kid who always does this or that'. Every day we were seen as fresh, capable people, full of love to give, and ready to engage in relationships.

Without fear

I feel we were almost raised without fear. Certainly without unnecessary fear. Because we believed that love was the best way to approach challenges. So in whatever situation, if we'd approached it with love, then we were confident it was good, or at least as good as it was going to get. And there was constant recognition of our huge potential for goodness, and affirmation of our frequent attempts to love.