Parents are focused on doing what’s best for their children. For some, it can be about building a financial legacy for future generations. But of all the things we pass along to them, a grounding in their history might be the most important.

As I’m writing this piece, Orthodox Christians around the world are celebrating Palm Sunday - the triumphant arrival of Jesus into Jerusalem, just days before his crucifixion. This day is a big deal at our local parish - particularly for families with young children. The highlight of the service is an outdoor procession, with decorated candles and palm leaves folded into crosses. Our family’s historical photo albums are punctuated by pictures in our Sunday best, standing outside the church, palm leaves in our hands. 

The truth is that I never liked going to church on Palm Sunday. It’s loud and chaotic, full of impatient children who aren’t used to sitting through services. It can become so crowded that many don’t even set foot in the church, but rather mill about outside, taking pictures while waiting to join the procession. It can be more of a social event than a worship service.

My parents may have felt the same way. But it didn’t matter. Every year, we dutifully dressed up, took the obligatory pictures, and paraded around the park across the street from the church. Although the church has moved across town, to this day, when I return to that inner city park, I am brought back to childhood memories of Palm Sundays past. It is an anchor.

Sundays used to serve as an anchor to the week. Church. Football. Family dinners. 

Events like religious holidays, Thanksgiving, or birthday celebrations are anchors to the year. 

We can have a variety of anchors in our lives. The stronger and more meaningful they are, the more room we have to expand our horizons, knowing that the anchors give us a safe place to return. For me, church is an anchor. Family is an anchor. Traditions are anchors.

Part of what I feel was most damaging about the Covid years was the removal of those anchors. In many cases they haven’t returned, and there’s some sadness in that. Could part of the current high rates of depression, particularly among children and teens, have to do with the loss of those anchors?

On this particular Palm Sunday, my wife and I are on driving duty, split between dance studio and dojo. There’s nothing special about this particular Sunday to my kids. No dressing up. No palm leaves. No procession. Part of me is relieved that I don’t have to get ready and fight the crowds at church, but it’s one less anchor.

I don’t know what the point of writing this is. Maybe it’s the nostalgia of middle age. I wish the modern world was less rushed, and provided more room for families to create their own traditions. I hope that the investment simplicity that I describe in Low Risk Rules is a way for people to make more time to do just that. 

I feel like we need anchors now, more than ever. Our children certainly do. Maybe it’s the most important thing we can do for them.