What Are You Waiting For?

Stella, age 4, can hardly wait until Christmas. She is hoping that Santa will bring her a "My Little Pony," preferably blue.

Her older sisters, age six, are hoping for new cowboy boots--the kind with lots of glitz and glitter that girls their age love to wear.

I bet most of us remember the longing we experienced as children, waiting what seemed like an eternity for that special day to arrive when we would receive the much anticipated gift we felt certain would be under the Christmas tree. In those days, most of us waited with some kind of certainty our wishes would be fulfilled. It just might take longer than we would like.

When we grow up, we still long for things but often with less certainty. Some of us long for a life partner; others for a child of their own. Some folks yearn for healing in a relationship, or for the return of a rebellious child, or even an end to chronic pain and suffering. When we wait for these kinds of things our waiting is much less certain. We're not at all certain our marriage will be healed, our child will return from his or her rebellious ways, or our family member will be reconciled. We don't know if we'll ever marry, we'll have a baby of our own, or the pain we're enduring will loosen its icy grip on our lives. When we wait for things like this, it's much harder to be hopeful. In fact, in the dark days of December when other people seem to be so "merry and bright," it can be even more difficult to experience the hopeful waiting that seems to be such a part of this season.

So what can be done? How can one wait hopefully and avoid a dreary descent into anger, bitterness and despair? When it comes to answering questions like these, I turn to people who seem to have done a much better job than I have . . . people who teach me what it means to wait with peace, patience and perspective. One such person is Cathy Tijerina.

Cathy writes the following:

     In September of 1991, I was twenty-four years old when I found myself trying to explain to my two and four year old sons why Daddy didn’t come home that day. “Prison” was a new word to define for my sons - a word that toddlers should not even know - yet here I was trying desperately to provide an explanation to them that would make sense without completely robbing them of their innocence. We were so sure that Ron was not going to be convicted of a crime he did not commit we had not even thought about telling our sons anything. Now, as I sat alone on the floor of our house, holding my sobbing, frightened children, I wondered how on earth our young family was going to make it through that night—let alone the next 14-25 years my husband was just sentenced.
     Little did I know that the devastation I felt as I walked out of the court house alone that day was just the beginning of a journey of pain, shame, disappointment and social shunning that my husband’s incarceration had created for my children and me.  
(See http://www.theridgeproject.com/#/about-us/ron-cathy-tijerina.)

Ron was released from prison after 15 years. He missed most of the growing up years for his sons--the birthdays, Christmases and graduations. While he was gone, Cathy functioned as a single parent, helping her children stay connected with their father through regular visits to the prison, keeping the faith that someday Ron would be released and they all would be together as a family. That time finally came in 2006, but in the interim both Ron and Cathy had to wait with a lot of uncertainty about the future. 

I thought of Cathy when I was driving to work one day last week, wallowing in a bit of "December dreariness."  I reflected on all the Decembers she must have spent loading kids in and out of the car by herself, putting up a tree and holiday decorations by herself, shoveling snow and managing wintry weather conditions by herself while she waited for one day, some day, when she wouldn't have to do it all alone.

I know Ron and Cathy, have heard them speak on a number of occasions and talked with them in person. When I'm tempted to feel discouraged or sorry for myself, reflecting on their story gives me a great deal of hope. Here are some things I think they might tell you.

Faith makes a difference. Early in their experience of incarceration, Ron and Cathy became part of a faith community--Ron behind the walls, Cathy on the outside. They would tell you that their faith in God was transformative. They would also emphasize the importance of being associated with like-minded people. If one must persist and endure, waiting with the encouragement of others can be very helpful.

Look beyond yourself. In the first year or two of Ron's incarceration, Cathy began to look for meaningful support for someone like herself--a committed wife and mother who wanted to wait for her husband's release with patience and courage. She writes:

Ron continually inspired me and encouraged me that we COULD make a difference for all those who came behind us. I believed him, and we took on a new mission beyond just our own family. In 1993, we began with a program we developed called Keeping FAITH (now the Keeping Families And Inmates Together in Harmony program.) In this program, Ron mentored other men in prison, while I would meet with and encourage their families on the outside. This was the beginning of the Ridge Project. In 2000, while Ron was still incarcerated, we officially founded the Ridge Project. Ron continued to mentor incarcerated men, while I worked with their families, and I also began an after-school program to help at-risk or struggling youth.

People forced to wait by a serious illness, marital discord, rebellious children and a host of other problems often report finding great meaning in looking beyond themselves to comfort and encourage others who are experiencing similar difficulties. This doesn't necessarily change the circumstances (Ron was still incarcerated for 15 years), but it brings meaning to suffering.

Enjoy the little things. Although I haven't heard Cathy or Ron say this specifically, I know from my contact with them that they are two of the most joyful people I know. They embrace life and enjoy each other. Their enthusiasm is infectious. One cannot help but be impacted by their presence. There's so much about which they might be bitter and angry, but they have chosen to focus on the good. I want to be more like them.

I confess to being a prone-to-impatience kind of person. Waiting is rarely easy for me. At the same time, I can see that watchful waiting, done in the right way, can soften us into more peaceable persons who bring joy and hope to others. Maybe that's what I'm waiting for this Christmas and I do think it's the kind of thing that's worth the wait.

Waiting with you,

Dr. Jennifer Baker

What Are You Giving Up for Christmas?

 

Yes, I know it's customary to ask what you want for Christmas or what might be on your Christmas "to do" list, but right now I'd like to suggest a pause in your holiday celebration to consider what you might want to give up for Christmas, especially in the interest of "Peace on earth, good will to men."

 

 

I've been giving this some thought myself lately. For instance, if I didn't do all the things I typically do, would I then have time to be a more peaceful and joyful person? I'm thinking I might. This gave me some ideas of what I'd like to give up for Advent, the period of preparation leading up to the celebration of Christmas.

Expectations: Most of us have quite a few expectations about the celebration of Christmas, whether we know it or not. If we've celebrated many Yuletide seasons at all, we know--with a capital "K"--how some things are to be done. We KNOW how stuffing in the turkey should taste, what kind of cookies must be baked, who must be present on Christmas Eve and when the presents should be unwrapped. There are rules about such things and we know they are true because we learned them as children. The only problem is that the person we married or the folks we hang out with didn't learn the same rules. How does one deal with the sort of disappointment and disillusionment that occurs when rules aren't followed? Only by giving up some of your expectations for Christmas and embracing the moment of today.

Disappointing Others: I've worked with any number of couples around this time of year about how to manage the expectations of their extended family for the holidays. The matter is further complicated by divorce. For example, his mother and stepfather want them to be present on Christmas Eve, but so do her father and stepmother. His father lives alone, but has asked that they spend part of Christmas Day with him. Trouble is, her mother and step-father want Christmas Day time as well. Confused yet? Not as much as this poor couple who feel torn apart by people they love, but don't want to disappoint. If small children, i.e., grandchildren, are involved, the pressure can intensify--especially if all the persons in question live close enough to each other that the couple could actually split their time, even though it exhausts them in the process.
 

And let's not forget the pressure of gift giving on small budgets already stretched to the limits for many young families. How does one deal with the sort of conflict and confusion that occurs when trying to set limits with important and much loved extended family? Only by releasing the fantasy that you can please everyone and also create happy memories for yourself.

Self-Absorption: Sometimes it's easy to be merry and bright during the holidays. Other days it's not. On the days when it's not going well, my greatest tendency is to think about myself--what I want, how I'm feeling, where my life is not going well, and how others may have disappointed or frustrated me in some way. The problem with being self-absorbed is that we miss the opportunities for joy occurring all around us, e.g., shoveling an elderly neighbor's sidewalk, helping someone beyond your family trim their tree, visiting with someone who might be lonely, or taking a friend to lunch. When we give up self-absorption we often find the joy we hope to experience during this season.

There are a lot of other things I'm thinking I need to relinquish for a more joyful holiday season--impatience for one. Perfectionism for another. I could ask my family members and they might add a few more things to my list. The more I think about it, focusing on what I want to give up this Christmas might be even more important than either the "wish list" or the "to do list." Maybe I ought to give that list a little more work.

Wondering what you want to give up this Christmas for a most joyous celebration.

Dr. Jennifer Baker

 

I Want What I Think You Want

When I rose from my bed an hour later than usual last Friday morning, I thought about all the shoppers who engaged in "Black Friday" activities while I sat in my fuzzy fleece robe, sipped hot coffee and watched the sunrise. What got them up and going at such an early hour, or perhaps led them to curtail their Thanksgiving activities the evening before? Was it only the lure of not-to-be-missed sale items, or was there something more? What is it about how we think that makes us sacrifice for a sale? Bully our way to the front of the line for a bargain? Forgo free time for long lines of pushy shoppers? And then I remembered our daughter's fifth birthday.

It was late June and I was lying in bed, "sick as a dog," wondering how I was going to purchase the Cabbage Patch doll our five-year-old daughter wanted for her birthday, as well as pull off her party the following day. If you weren't alive in 1982 or 1983 or were under the age of five, you probably don't recall what a sensation these dolls were. Perhaps it was a backlash against Barbies or dolls that walked, talked and wet their pants, but suddenly Cabbage Patch dolls with chubby faces and soft cloth bodies that didn't do anything were on every little girl's list. We were unable to secure one of the prized dolls for Christmas, but by the time our daughter's birthday rolled around in June, we thought we might be able to manage the inflated expense, provided we could locate one. Finally, just days before her birthday we tracked one down in a store about 40 miles from the small town where we lived in southern Illinois. My Main Man, like a hunter in pursuit of game that would ensure his family's survival, drove to Alton, Illinois in pursuit of the prize. Forty dollars and 80 miles later we had our doll.

Black Friday and Cyber Monday are now but a dim reflection in the rear view mirror of 2013, but there's much to learn about the way retailers use these two days to capitalize on a phenomena known as the "scarcity principle." This principle is rooted in both economic and social psychology research and refers to the way market conditions are impacted if people believe something might be in scarce supply. That's pretty much the way it was with Cabbage Patch dolls and we were certainly impacted. Because they were scarce, because not everyone could have one, our daughter wanted one more than ever.

In Contagious: Why Things Catch On, Jonah Berger, PhD notes that "Scarcity and exclusivity help products catch on by making them seem more desirable. If something is difficult to obtain, people assume that it must be worth the effort" (p. 54). Think about it for a moment, why do you think Disney takes its old animated features like Cinderella and Snow White off the shelf periodically and offers them to the public for a limited time only. It's because it increases their desirability. 

 

Do you recall when you had to have special status of some sort to shop at Sam's Club? Even now you have to have a "membership" and your status is checked at the door. Why's that? Because it actually increases the likelihood more people will want to be members. Not only that, but if something appears to be in short supply and we are "lucky" enough to secure it, we tell others much more often than we would have had it been easily obtained.

It's a funny thing about the way our brain works. If we think something is in scare supply, we want it more. It matters little if that item or experience is worth the sacrifice we might have to make for it financially or otherwise. If it's within our power to obtain it, we have a strong tendency to assume it will be worth the effort or expense.

Prohibition is perhaps one of the best examples of the scarcity principle in action. In his latest book, One Summer: America, 1927, Bill Bryson chronicles this era as one of the worst experiments in American history.

[Prohibition] was easily the most extreme, ill-judged, costly, and ignored experiment in social engineering ever conducted by an otherwise rational nation. At a stroke it shut down the fifth-largest industry in America. it took some $2 billion a year out of the hands of legitimate interests and put it in the hands of murderous thugs. It made criminals of honest people and actually led to an increase in the amount of drinking in the country (p.160-161).

Something designed to limit the consumption of alcohol actually increased it. Hmm. . . it got me to thinking. Retailers who decided to open on Thanksgiving this year may want to rethink that strategy for next year. It seems like there's significant evidence to suggest the reverse may prove more lucrative--limit hours and availability and people may want it more. From what I hear, Black Friday profits were down considerably this year from last. Scarcity, limited quantities, insufficient supply--all these may actually increase desire. Then again, if we think those limited quantities may be sold out by 4 a.m., we're likely to keep pushing the envelope on how early we'll rise to participate in the hunt.

Still pondering the mysteries of our brain,

Dr. Jennifer Baker