Getting To Work
I finished my summer vacation this year on my knees, hammering nails into sheets of plywood while splinters worked their way through my capris. I was visiting cousins in the midst of renovations, and we put a dance floor into the new ballet studio. Classes started in three days, so there wasn’t much time for slacking. I came in on the train at 8:00 p.m., wolfed down supper, and got to work.
It didn’t seem strange to me. My family never took vacations. Dad had frequent business trips, and whenever he could he took us all with him. We saw most of America from the back of a station wagon—later a minivan—on our way to new parade sites, festival grounds, or trade shows. We were always crowded and usually behind schedule. My sisters and I loved the sensation of falling asleep in Michigan and waking up in Kentucky, watching the rising sun shimmer on white fences and bluegrass.
With a history like that, it’s no wonder we tend to look with bewilderment at people who actually “vacation”—who spend large chunks of time at resorts or cabins or hotels. What do they do with themselves?
In a nation where the most popular pastime is staring for hours at images on a screen, we tend to view work as a bad thing. The Bible admits that, post-Fall, work isn’t without its rough side—Adam was told that the ground would bring forth thorns and thistles, “and thou shalt eat the herb of the field; in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread” (Genesis 3:18-19).
Homeschooling families across North America have recognized this loss as an unfortunate one, and many are actively forming new traditions with their own families—activities, attitudes, and ways of doing things that they hope will be passed down to future generations. Some of our families still have an intact heritage to draw from; others are more or less starting from scratch.
History and experience tell us, though, that even in His curse God was kind. In Ecclesiastes 2:24, Solomon pronounced his judgment on work: “There is nothing better for a man, than that he should eat and drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also I saw, that it was from the hand of God.”
What does all this have to do with family traditions, you ask? Much: in my family, the most memorable traditions have centered around work.
There was a time when most families had a host of traditions passed down for generations. Many traditions, like my family’s, were tied into work. There were traditions surrounding seedtime and harvest, traditional foods and handicrafts, hunting and fishing. Others were based on religious events and holy days or milestones like christenings, weddings, and funerals. But the world has changed rapidly in the last few hundred years. We have come through the Industrial Revolution, devastating wars that literally rearranged the maps of the world, and the generational disconnect of the sixties. Today, technology changes so rapidly that what is cutting-edge one day is completely passé a year later. Not all change is bad, of course, but a major result of it is that the old traditions have gotten lost somewhere.
Reclaiming (or Restarting) a Heritage
Homeschooling families across North America have recognized this loss as an unfortunate one, and many are actively forming new traditions with their own families—activities, attitudes, and ways of doing things that they hope will be passed down to future generations. Some of our families still have an intact heritage to draw from; others are more or less starting from scratch.
As you seek to bring meaningful traditions into your family life, consider giving work an important place in them.
My family is one of those that was blessed enough to have a solid heritage. My grandfather moved to Canada from the Ukraine in the early 1920s with his Mennonite family. They came fleeing famine and religious persecution, along with the rest of their community. The Mennonites of this era settled in Ontario, Manitoba, and other areas in the United States and Canada, rolled up their sleeves, and got to work.
As a child, I loved visiting Oma and Opa’s farm. We played in the hayloft and rode on Opa’s knee in the cab of the tractor or on the seat of the riding lawn mower. The pile of chicken heads behind the barn was a little unnerving, but we enjoyed throwing corncobs to the live chickens and eating the baked ones. Mom was one of six children, and several times a year the whole family would come together for some traditional observance or other. Most of these were work-related.
Oma and Opa had apple trees and grape vines on their farm. Every fall, we’d all gather in the double garage to make juice. Everyone had a job to do. My uncles operated the handmade wooden press, which gushed and crunched as apples rolled into it. My aunts tied up cheesecloth bags full of pressed grapes so the last bits of juice could drain into jars. Homemade donuts dipped in sugar kept everyone happy. Vats brought the dark purple juice to canning temperature, and we could hear the pop of lids sealing in the corner.
We kids were too small to be of much use when it came to presses and hot temperatures, so we were stationed at big metal washtubs. Into these were dumped bushels of grapes or apples, along with a few spiders. We plunged our hands into the cold water and washed away dirt, webbing, and pesticides, trying our best to keep up with the adults.
And When He is Old…
When I was thirteen, my family moved away from Ontario and headed west. We lived in California for eight years, far away from the annual gatherings, homemade donuts, and hot vats full of grape juice. A few years ago, we came back. Last year, for the first time since we moved, we helped make grape juice. My Opa had passed away only months before. The grapes came from vines he had tended all year. It was a meaningful time. And this time, I saw the gathering with the eyes of a young adult.
I think I’d always known that we were doing something more than making juice when we gathered in that garage. This time, though, I saw it far more clearly. As three generations worked side-by-side, we were being given far more than jars of grape juice and cider. This gift wouldn’t just sit on our pantry shelves or grace our tables. We were being given a heritage, and that would be with us for the rest of our lives.
What did we learn in that garage? What did we learn that we might not have in some more idle setting, swimming in a hotel pool without a washbasin in sight?
To start with, we learned valuable skills. We learned that provision doesn’t come from a grocery shelf, but is a product of hard work and ingenuity. People who never work with their hands never really get in touch with real life. There’s a barrier of unfamiliarity over its most basic elements. When you learn to get juice out of a grape instead of a can, some of that unfamiliarity is ripped away, and all of life suddenly looks more doable.
We learned to work hard with a good attitude. Our role models—our parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents— never complained. Ever. They chatted without slowing their pace. They laughed and had a good time. They ate donuts, and so did we. Work is not a choice in life. We all have to work, and often the work is hot or monotonous or unappealing. Sometimes there are spiders in the water! Parents who impart a good attitude about work are giving their children a gift immeasurable in value. There is no better way to do this than for parents and children to work alongside each other. In the modern world, that’s not always possible on a day-to-day basis. Work-centered traditions can fill some of the gap. Many of my favorite memories involve work. I’m grateful for that, and for all the adults who taught me to “make my soul enjoy good in my labour.”
One more thing happened out in that garage, and on all the business trips we took along with Dad, and in all the crazy projects my family has taken on over the years. We just about obliterated the generation gap.
Many homeschoolers are looking for ways to prevent the fabled disconnect between parents and children in these perilous days, a disconnect that is unnatural, unnecessary, and destructive. Work connects people in a special way. Create together, build together, laugh together. Have something to show for it at the end of the day—something you can eat or drink or otherwise use, a tangible reminder that you make a pretty good team.
There is a place for vacations in this life. Play is necessary. Hotel pools are fun. But when you’re creating traditions for your family, valuable traditions you want to see still honored by your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, give work its proper place.