My fourteen year old high school freshman asked me about an iPhone the other day as we and the littles were running errands. She knows us well, so she wanted to know how much the phones cost each month and if she could get an iPhone and pay the monthly difference. If any of you know us, you’ve already guessed how that went. I know we’re weird. That we’re the last hold-outs. That we’re out of touch. That we’re insensitive. I’ve heard it all. It’s just that we don’t care what people think, least of all the younger set in our house. We’ll listen. Of course. And sometimes we’ll make concessions. But we’re pretty unshakable when it comes to phones.
Here’s what I explained. Just because you could pay for one, just because we may have an extra couple of phones floating around that the little kids could use, just because every other kid your age has one and everyone the little kids' ages have iPods and iPads, none of that warrants us moving in that direction. She has a perfectly useful phone that more than adequately meets her needs. (Sort of exasperated with the request, I stopped myself from going further with it all. A personal phone a need? We had to use communal phone in the school office. Or pay to use one at the nasty gas station. Or wait until we got home to see who left a message on the answering machine.)
It’s not that we’re not sympathetic, that we don’t understand. There’s just more to it than simply wanting something and then coming up with the money for it. We feel compelled to help them temper their natural inclination for materialism. That we all struggle with.
“We might ask ourselves, living as many of us do in societies that worship possessions and pleasures, whether we are remaining aloof from covetousness and the lust to acquire more and more of this world’s goods. Materialism is just one more manifestation of the idolatry and pride that characterize Babylon. Perhaps we can learn to be content with what is sufficient for our needs.” (D. Todd Christofferson)
That seems to sum up our stance as we field queries like the one about the phone.
Our family enjoys a very comfortable life, no question. But that’s just it. We want our kids to appreciate what they already have without needing to constantly be on the prowl for more. And yet, we aim to strike a balance between wanting them to be industrious, to earn their own way, and to learn to use money wisely while at the same time recognizing when they have enough. I think most of us struggle with this, even as adults. I know we do.
Obviously, we wholeheartedly believe in finding meaningful work and saving for big-ticket items; in fact, we encourage it. We’ve determined, for instance, that a trip or a gun—which you probably think is crazy—would provide much more value than a phone or iPod at this junction. We’ve paid for part of Avery’s two trips to Scotland, half of Andrew’s gun, half of Callum’s gun, and half of Mitchell’s computer. Many years ago when Andrew approached us, we felt having his own gun would increase the time he’d spend with his dad shooting and hunting. Which it has. We liked the skills he picked up. We’re totally on board if they want to use their money for camping and hiking gear. We like how these investments facilitate real life interaction with people. Mitchell’s purchase is the exception to our general philosophy. And if you know Mitchell, you know why we conceded. Mitchell spends a lot of time coding and developing programs—we knew what we were getting into and that we wanted to encourage that skill set. Like I said, we don’t have a formula, it’s different for every kid. We know the littles will just text their friends silly messages and take funny pictures and make videos and play games (which is what they do when they get ahold of our phones) if they had their own iPods or phones; their lives and maturity levels don’t warrant having them. If they were coming and going on their own all the time, if they had jobs away from home, if they were driving, if they were in high school, we’d talk about it; but they’re always with us. So yes, we while we try to instill in them a work ethic that allows them to have some autonomy, we don’t want earning money and spending it (simply on fun) to become the focus of their lives. So partly it’s the actual item they’re requesting; partly it’s where they are maturity-wise, and partly (mostly) it’s us wanting them to learn this lesson as taught in the scriptures by a prophet, “for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me.”
We basically want them to not only appreciate an item once they can eventually have it, but also to understand they can still navigate life without having what “everyone” else has. Even when they (or we) can afford it, there’s nothing wrong with holding off, with developing patience, with saving, with using your resources on others, with learning to do without. Because that’s real life. Rarely will they ever be able to have everything they want—even as an adult. Maybe especially as an adult. Many of their wants will inevitably be displaced by grown-up obligations. I’m sure most people would like to eat out more, have a new car every couple of years, tour fascinating locales, and buy the latest toys. And yet, the lesson is best taught while young. Learn to temper wants. To make do. To discipline yourself. To realize you have plenty. To be creative. To put on blinders to what everyone else has and does. To be content.
I thought back to the early years of college and marriage as I was thinking about a way to explain this all to Avery. Cinder blocks to create storage under our beds. Funny book shelves. Hand-me-down decorations. Not very much meat. Cheap dates. We were blessed to find a great deal on an already-cute little apartment when we were first married, and we happen to love the primitive look, so decorating was cheap. We continued to live near other married students and the disparity in living conditions was always very interesting to me. Some looked like they had just moved in off the street, bare bones, very minimal improvements. Others looked like they had inherited a high-end furniture shop. And maybe a clothing shop on the side. Just intriguing. I remember the luxury apartments the 19- and 20-year-olds I knew lived in, noting their private rooms, stackable, in-house washers and dryers (contrasted with the dumpy laundromats most of us frequented), private (or semi-) bathrooms (so strange to me, in an apartment with one), how contemporary and fresh everything was. I guess my take on that period of our lives, looking back, is I respected my friends who took their time acquiring things, who little by little built homes for themselves, who stayed out of debt, who were content with what they had, who managed without major handouts from their parents, and who were both creative and generous with their resources. I’m still impressed that they made do with what they had, and slowly, incrementally improved their situations, which is what I tried to point out to Avery.
This is a harder concept to adhere to once you can start affording more. Is wanting something—and having the means—a good enough reason to acquire it? Should we own 200 pairs of shoes just because our income allows for it? Do we need three homes? What happens when kids have earned their own money (Avery’s argument), should they be allowed to buy whatever they want? We would have to say no, not always. You probably don’t agree with us, but what if your kids raised enough money for a litter of puppies? Or a violent game? Or a bouncy house? Or what if they wanted to spend all their birthday money on candy or gum? You have your limits and reasons, and so do we. (In fact, we’re a million times more likely to welcome a bunch of puppies into our home than we are any of the gadgets we’ve talked about.)
But that’s kind of where Avery was coming from with the phone argument. What I had to explain was—to us—money is the least important factor, even when you’ve earned enough to pay for an item. It’s more about wanting them to develop self-discipline, helping them feel gratitude for what they already have, teaching them to use their time and energy to do good in the world instead of thinking of ways to entertain themselves with the latest advancements, and learning what contentment feels like.
I guess we just go back to how God works. We see it all the time. He could certainly give us the moon. Or a newer car. An elaborate house. A better job. Another child. A cure. A perfect knowledge. Of course. And yet, in His wisdom, and in His perfect timing, He allows us to wait. He may bless us with some of those things as we do our part and as He sees fit. But I love how it’s rarely all at once. His hallmark is line upon line. And sometimes, as we’ve all experienced, it’s not meant to be at all. At least in this life. It’s hard to see why He refuses to grant us something that seemingly requires nothing more than a wave of a magic wand. I’m sure our kids wonder the same thing about us. We (and our kids) usually don’t understand (or care about) the wisdom behind the decision as we all desperately plead our cases, and I’m certain we will be left to wonder about many of our unfulfilled desires until after we die and can ask Him in person. It probably won’t be until our kids have grown up and become parents themselves that they’ll be able to see where we were coming from. But as we’ve matured and experienced parenting from another perspective, I think we can all appreciate that a loving parent is not indulgent; he is mindful. The more experience we have with God, the better we understand that He holds back not to showcase His power and authority and control, but so we will learn. To be trusting, meek, satisfied, generous, and grateful. To be content with all that we’ve been liberally blessed with.
So, as we talked about phones, I was hoping she would begin to understand why we said no. That we hold back out of love. Because we know the better gift is not really a fancy phone but an awareness of the blessings she lives with so abundantly already.
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