Family Mission, Vision and Values

“7 in 10 parents say they have an explicit set of values for their family, but less than 3 in 10 have written out that purpose or mission statement.” – Andy Crouch, The Tech-Wise Family

One thing that has been important to our family is coming up with mission, vision and values statements. The idea came up about seven years into our marriage, when Dave mentioned having recently walked his department at work through formulating their mission, vision and values; I had recently listened to a Focus on the Family podcast about doing one for families, and we decided to give it a shot.

The first time we did it, four years ago, it took about half a day. We drove down to the Outer Banks and sat at the Wright Brothers Memorial. To formulate our mission statement, we asked: what is our purpose, what do we want to accomplish in our lives together, for the next five years? For our vision statement, we asked: what is our long-term goal over the next several decades? For our values statement, we asked: what are the shared core beliefs that we’ll always try to reflect while in pursuit of our mission and vision?

For each question, we brainstormed a list of ideas separately and together, then developed or eliminated various ideas until we arrived at the most concise statement possible that encapsulated everything we felt was important. Values often involved a little more give-and-take in finding the ones we both agreed were important, and we tried to keep the list to just a few. 

Three years later, as we faced a move to California and our kids entering a slightly different stage of life, we went through the process again (this time it just took a few hours at the local Barnes & Noble). We incorporated anticipated cultural challenges, our vision for making the move, and individual and family changes in what we valued. Maybe because there has been so much change since the move, we have actually looked back to what we wrote more than ever before, to help us make decisions about how we spend our time, energy and money; what we persevere in praying for; and big and little details of how we live our day. Here is that latest version, which is up on our wall:

Mission

To live counter-culturally and missionally by deepening in unity and enjoyment in our marriage, providing a stable foundation for and investing in the character growth of our children, and intentionally building a committed and genuine community.

Vision

Our home is a place of strength and health that brings hope and blessing to those around us.

Values

Growth: being aware of changing needs and development as individuals and as a family; investing intentionally in inward growth over outward appearances.

Simplicity: maintaining space and margin; being fully present and content

Joy: having a home full of light, fun and hope; enjoyment of our environment and friends

Generosity: giving our time, money and resources; practicing hospitality; engaging in community

Long Days and Short Years

The last few weeks have been a revolving door of serial viral maladies—pretty much the lot of anyone with kids during some period of the year. On the East Coast this usually happened during the (what I now feel was bitterly cold) winters; this year, we’ve managed to escape being sick until being hit now with a double round. Just as the fourth kid is recovering from what’s been passed through the three previous kids, the first kid gets sick again, this time even worse, and down we go through the line again.

So this afternoon found me again holding lethargic, clingy, feverish kids and figuring out creative ways to get a two year-old to drink medicine she hates, while still dealing with the bickering and appetites of the healthy kids. And trying to somehow sort out germy and non-germy things on behalf of my public-health husband who believes we should have been able to contain spread of this contagion (he may be right).

By the time Dave got home, I didn’t feel like sitting through forty-five minutes of bay-area traffic to make some doctor’s meeting I had signed up for, but the best part ended up being the traffic, because I turned on some Focus on the Family podcasts like I used to during commutes in Virginia. Gary Thomas was sharing as an empty nester. He said one time when he was in the mall he saw a toddler run in front of her daddy to say, “hold me; my legs are tired!” The dad didn’t look too happy, but he shifted his bags to one hand and picked her up. And suddenly he was struck by the fact that he would never again hold one of his kids while walking through the mall (his youngest was twelve). These changes happen so subtly, he said. He wished someone could have gone back and told him, “this is the last time you will hold your kid while walking in the mall!” and he would have been more present.

I thought about how just today, I was feeling frustrated about having to hold Esme while walking into school for pick-up. But thinking back now I remember how the wind blew her wispy, sticky hair in my face; how her little chubby arm crooked around mine; how she kept talking on despite her fever about how there were letters on the road! And there was a dog! And she wasn’t wearing any shoes! (always a score in her book)

I remember Ellie exclaiming how nice it is to read a good book when you’re sitting sick on the couch. How she burrowed in my bed when she got chills. That moment when Eric was mad-faced and teary but agreed to be held and then jumped up to hug me hard when I hefted him up. The sleepy way Elijah rolled himself into his special blanket on the couch after waking up from a long nap.

The danger of my present, I suppose, is that it is so engulfing. It is hard to retain perspective or true presence. And I suppose part of wisdom is realizing that there is something in all of it, the good and bad, the healthy and sick, that I will one day wish I could retain but cannot. There is a part of my every day that God has portioned for me not just to function through, but to notice, to be aware in and even treasure, because it will not come back. I don’t want to be so consumed that my gratitude, focus, or curiosity has been sucked up by impatience, efficiency, or tasks. I don’t want to be so worn down by the consuming repetition of caregiving that I write off wonder in the common things.

Quote

"Faith is a refusal to panic. Do you like that sort of definition of faith? Does that seem to be too earthly and not sufficiently spiritual? It is of the very essence of faith. Faith is a refusal to panic, come what may. 

"It says, 'All right, I see the waves and billows but'--it always puts up this 'but'. That is faith, it holds on to truth and reasons from what it knows to be fact. That is the way to apply faith...It is inevitable logic, and faith argues like that. Faith reminds itself of what the Scripture calls the 'exceeding great and precious promises. ...Whatever your circumstances at this moment, bring all you know to be true of your relationship to God to bear upon it. 'All things work together for good to them that love God.' Not a hair of your head shall be harmed, He loves you with an everlasting love.'" 

– Martin Lloyd-Jones, Spiritual Depression, 1965: 143-145