Christy Monson - Family Talk: How to Organize Family Meetings to Solve Problems and Strengthen Relationships

This book contains some of my clients stories. The names have been changed, and the circumstances of each incident have been altered so individuals are not recognizable.

The material offered in this publication is not to be used to treat, diagnose, or advise about an illness or a matter that requires consultation with an expert. If you are in need of medical assistance or advice for psychological, medical, legal, or financial services, please consult with a specialist in the respective professional field.

Dedication

I am grateful to my husband, Robert Monson, and our children, Kirsten Slaugh, Robin Condie, Laura Vaden, Rebekah Murcray, Christian Monson, and Rachel DeVore. They are dedicated to their families and are productive members of society. For that I am thankful. Without them this book would not be possible.

I also appreciate my critique group members, who have read and reread every page of this book, giving sound advice and helpful ideas to make this the best it can be: Margot Hovley, Chris Miller, Cory Webb, Jeanette Wright, Ken Lee, Marion Jensen, and Colin Murcray.

Thanks to the editor, Amanda Wind, for her terrific organizational skills. She has had an impact for good on this manuscript.

Preface

This book is an exposition on synergy in the familya how to for creating family talk through the medium of family councils to bring about that synergy. If families work together to infuse themselves with honest, positive energy, they can create harmony, allowing and encouraging each member to become more than they could be on their own.

Dating and courtship begin for many of us when we are young. Friendship blossoms into love and marriage. Children bless our alliance with more affection as our family grows.

Families come in all different varieties. There are traditional families with a mother and fatherboth parents may be income-producing in some families, while others have one source of revenue. Some households have only a single parent, and working together is a must to keep life running smoothly. Others are faced with the difficulty of blending a family. Trying to mold different lifestyles into a single functioning unit of love can seem like a daunting task.

No matter what the parameters, synergistic families are based on devotion and trustin other words, love. Encouraging communication through listening, understanding, playing together, boundary-setting, and creating rules brings deeper bonding and greater affection.

Family councils can improve relationships, increase our understanding of each other, and assist us in fostering a respectful, pleasant environment for everyone in the homewhatever our age or situation may be. In this book, well explore some of the important messages and skills family council meetings teach children.

In 1981, my husband and I had six children at home. They ranged in age from three to sixteen. Loving and nurturing this group of youngsters that I adored seemed like an overwhelming task some days. Somehow we smoothed our lives out with weekly family council meetings. We looked at our problems, talked about them, brainstormed solutions, and came up with actions to keep our lives somewhat intact.

When our children were older, I went back to school to become a marriage and family therapist. I have used the same positive relationship model we fostered with our children in my work with clients over the years.

Introduction

My preschooler was through with her naps, but my grandmother, Nana, usually spent an hour sleeping every afternoon. I peeked into the bedroom to see if she was still resting. Nanas eyes were open with her jaw dropped. She wasnt breathing. I touched her cheek. It was cool. Her face had a look of peace about it that I hadnt seen beforealmost an angelic aura. I leaned against the wall.

Nana, age 99 years and 7 months, had just died in our home. Disbelief, shock, grief, and an overwhelming sense of What am I going to do now? engulfed me. She was my second mother from the time I was six years old, after my father died.

I sat down in the living room and put my head in my hands. I had to handle this. Deep breaths. Rest a minute and think. What did I need to do? How was I going to tell everyone?

My mind wandered to the many hours Nana spent reading to me when I was a child. Neither of us could get through Lassie Come Home without tears. I worked in the garden with her, weeding the flowerbeds. We canned fruit together, using mountains of sugar, spilling a little here and a little there until the floor was so sticky our feet squeaked as we walked. She was infinitely patient with me, teaching me to sew and cook. I knew she loved being with me.

In the background I heard the postman slip the mail through the slot. My world seemed to have stopped, but everything around me continued.

After I married, our family had spent a lot of time vacationing at Nanas home over the years, so the children also had many memories with her. They made rhubarb pies together. They played checkers by the hour, and she was always willing to read them a storyuntil she fell asleep. The listener would gently shake her shoulder, and she would rouse and say, Now where was I? and begin again.

I shifted my weight on the couch and stared out the window into the sunshine. I wondered about the afterlife. Where was Nana? What was she doing right now?

She had come to live with us three years ago, and we took care of her nowfixing her meals, washing her clothes, and bathing herinstead of her caring for us. Kirsten, age 16, enjoyed painting Nanas nails and curling her hair, and Nana loved the attention. She and Kirsten shared a room. When Nana first arrived, her mind was sharp, but as she approached the century mark, her thinking became less clear. She believed Kirsten was the lady from New York who didnt keep the room very tidy.

Robin, age 13, cleaned Nanas dentures every day. Robin enjoyed dropping the little blue capsule into the glass of water and watching it foam into fizzy bubbles. She helped Nana dress and settled her in her wheelchair.

Laura, age 12, loved creating fun and games for her younger siblings, and Nana joined right in. The kids would seat Nana in the recliner in the living room and then take turns pushing each other around the house in her wheelchair.

Rebekah, age 8, and Rachel, age 3, played dolls with Nana. Nana and the girls made up names for themselves, like Mrs. Fall and Mrs. Winter. Sometimes the dolls caught the measles or whooping cough. Mrs. Fall and Mrs. Winter rocked them and cared for them until they were well. Other times everyone dressed for a party in their best ball gowns and traveled to New York for a birthday celebration

When Chris was a toddler, he loved his bottle. When we decided it was time for him to give it up, Nana made a pig out of the modeling clay that the kids were playing with one day and told him, The piggy ate your bottle. He didnt ever wonder about his bottle or ask for it again. He accepted that it was gone, and he knew what had happened to it.

During the days before her death, Nana read to the younger children, and sometimes they read to her. They wheeled her chair out by the pool where she loved to watch the kids dive and do tricks.

And now I had to explain that she was gone. What would they think? How would they feel? Every time we were in the car and passed a graveyard, the kids held their breath and lifted their feet off the floor so no dead spirits would get into them. They were sure to remember this.

Rachel walked into the living room and climbed onto my lap. Time for Nana to get up from her nap and read me a story.

My heart sank. What should I say? I couldnt tell her just yet. I rocked her, stalling for time. Nanas still sleeping.