Hyperextended Families

Apparently knees and elbows have a "normal range of motion". Movement outside that range is called "hyperextension." I've heard that it can hurt quite a lot, and sometimes do quite a bit of damage.

Relationships, like joints, being more or less flexible connections between more or less rigid personalities, acquire a "normal range of motion." We establish patterns of interaction with siblings, spouses, parents, and children, to which we become accustomed. Even when those patterns are unpleasant, the familiarity of the routine (or "rut") provides a certain self-perpetuating normalcy. In studying the types of marriage which endure the longest, Cuber and Harroff discovered that a significant number of long-lasting relationships fit a pattern they named "conflict-habituated", which essentially describes a couple so accustomed to fighting with each other, that they wouldn't have it any other way. (Reminds me of an old Andy Griffith episode.) Despite the well-intentioned advice of preachers, psycho-babblers, booksellers, and other busybodies, most families persist in patterns that include "unhealthy" and "unhappy" dimensions, simply because that is how their joints and tendons have been formed.

Extended families add complexity and reduce familiarity, but nevertheless fit the same paradigm. Adult children often relate to their spouses in ways that imitate their parents; cousins recognize and repeat both the affection and the mockeries of their aunts and uncles. Distant relatives whose names are not easily recalled can be recognized by the behavior patterns that are common on "that side" of the family, and dealt with accordingly. Predictable gatherings triggered by traditional events (holidays, weddings, funerals) activate memorized interactions, mitigating the risk of the unexpected emotional explosion. As long as everything moves and flows within that familiar "range of motion", anxieties abate and families function.

But when we move outside that range, whether by reckless abandon or unforeseen circumstance, hyperextension can occur, and pain and injury follow. Deep emotional vulnerabilities are exposed when those who know us best (and perhaps love us most) wander into areas where they were not invited. Critical wounds that leave lasting scars result when sharp tones and barbed remarks strike unguarded flesh and raw nerves. Nobody knows where the sore spots are quite like family; those who helped us forge and don our armor know where the gaps and chinks are.

Treatment for familial hyperextension usually involves a combination of repair, rest, and rehabilitation. Repairing damaged relational tendons is tricky business; it would be wise to consult an expert in the field. Rest is harder than it sounds, and involves modifying your behavior to avoid putting weight or stress on the injured area. Avoiding the people and circumstances that could aggravate the injury will certainly disrupt your normal routine, and may require a relational "brace" to immobile the weakened joint. Rehabilitation is all about time and effort. Slowly rebuilding strength, without doing further harm, requires discipline and determination, as well as focused self-awareness. Respect your limitations, and do not rush the recovery. Exercise the damaged relationship to the point of challenge, but not to the point of damage, and it will strengthen over time. Full range of motion can be regained, but only with patient persistence and courageous caution.

Of course, prevention is preferable to treatment, where possible. Stretching and strengthening relational "muscle" is a life-long endeavor that many emotional couch-potatoes neglect. Learning balance and boundaries is a challenge of continuing education, with trial-and-error the most common curriculum. As the old country doctor was often heard saying, "If it hurts when you do that, stop doing it!"

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Full disclosure: My last two weekends were spent in extended family gatherings. Two weeks ago, I was with my wife's family in the celebration of her parents' fiftieth anniversary. Last weekend, I was with the family of a church member, on the occasion of her granddaughter's wedding. Both events were wonderful, memorable, enjoyable, and overflowing with the dynamic potential for risk and reward that makes such occasions both worthwhile and exhausting. Nobody got hurt, that I know of.

May all of your family gatherings, extended and otherwise, provide you with as many blessings.

-- Brother Tom

Horse Races and Rat Races

We love the surge. That eagerly anticipated, intensely orchestrated burst of energy and strength that drives horses around ten furlongs of dirt and dust in two minutes or less (if you count Secretariat) provides a contagious drama that draws spectators and speculators from around the world. Perhaps thoroughbreds embody what all of us desire: the capacity to perform at extremely high levels at critical times. LeBron James explodes past defenders in singleminded pursuit of the rim. Adrian Peterson sheds tacklers who dare stand between him and the end zone. Ryan Howard slams a fast ball 500 feet over the center field wall. Davis Love III crushes a drive 450 yards down the middle of the fairway. It's not just fun to watch, it stirs our spirits, reminding us of our own passion for excellence, instructing us in the power of drive and determination.

But that beloved burst of epinephrine (adrenaline) that fuels our peak performances is the same hormonal phenomenon that feeds our propensity to panic. Necessary when confronted with real and present dangers, essential for effective fight or flight, the heightened state of alertness and anxiety that is so helpful in small doses can be dangerous -- even devastating -- with prolonged exposure. Politicians who shrewdly capitalize on the opportunities implicit in crisis understand this well: panic produces a level of energy and attention not otherwise available, and there are certain short-term advantages to stirring up a well-timed crisis. Business leaders get it too: a good crisis helps generate the funding and resources required to implement significant change. We thrive on crisis (and the panic it provides) in nearly every aspect of living. Our lives sometimes resemble an endless series of emergencies, our homes and workplaces imitate immediate care centers, and triage becomes our standard operating procedure. But eventually, inescapably, the energy wanes, the alertness fades, burnout sets in, and further efforts to stir and awaken are met with increasingly persistent apathy and lethargy. And we wonder why.

The solution to this silly pattern is not at all complicated or complex. We all know that a marathon is run at a different pace than a sprint, that 500-mile races require pit stops, that starting pitchers need three or four days rest between starts, and that every sport has an off-season. We need breaks, naps, weekends, vacations. We need rest, relaxation, recreation, recuperation. The crazy thing is, I'm not sure how long a horse would run, if the jockey didn't tell him to stop. I'm not sure LeBron would ever take himself out of the game, if the coach didn't send in a sub. A dog bred for hunting, but not yet trained to stop when he hears the horn blow, will indeed run himself to death, if the fox is too fast and the chase too long.

We all need a jockey, a coach, a manager, a trainer: someone to blow the horn when its time to stop chasing. Some people picture God as the chronically dissatisfied boss who always wants more out of us: do more, love more, serve more, sacrifice more. Thankfully, the ancient wisdom of scripture preserves a different picture. Our Creator and Redeemer is the Lord of the Sabbath, the Lord of Rest, the Almighty Horn-Blower. When He tells you to stop, Stop.

My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. -- Psalm 62:1


Shalom.

-- Brother Tom