The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families.

Stephen R. Covey.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

This book is truly the synergistic product of a team of people. Without their tireless, wholehearted, unique contributions it never would have come about. Each of their names could easily be listed on the cover alongside mine, and I express my deep appreciation to them: -my beloved wife, Sandra, for many of the ideas and stories in this book, for her constant support and encouragement, for her intuitive wisdom and her education in child development, and above all for her sacrificial dedication over four decades in raising nine marvelous children.

-my dear children Cynthia, Maria, Stephen, Sean, David, Catherine, Colleen, Jenny, and Joshua, and their spouses and children, for their revealing and often embarrassing stories and for the quality of their lives and contributions.

-Boyd Craig, for his superb management of the whole three-year team production process, his unflagging positive energy, his remarkable judgment and counseling on many key issues, and his work hand in glove with Rebecca in the editing process.

-Rebecca Merrill, for her unusual editorial ability in weaving the ideas, stories, transcripts, and research together in a way that truly sings. Never have I had such a faithful translator.

-my dear brother, John M. R. Covey, for his lifelong loyalty and friendship, his inspiration to me in the development of the ideas in this book, his gifted ability to model and present these family principles, and his excellent work as a content leader in Franklin Covey Company's home and family area. He is also my personal spokesman for this family material. Also to his wife, Jane, a wonderful mother of a lovely family, whose early work on the book team and contributions of stories and learnings from presenting this material have been invaluable.

-my friend and colleague George Durrant, whose early work on the book team and association with us has infused both the book and us with an undying spirit of hope.

-Toni Harris and Pia Jensen, for their second-mile administrative support and their ability to interview and relate with people in a way that has drawn out so many of the powerful stories in this book.

-Rick Meeves, for incredible research and documentation contributions.

-Wally Goddard, for providing the team with decades of the learnings of many scholars, himself included, in the field of family and human development.

I also express my appreciation to many others whose contributions have made all the difference: -my associates at Franklin Covey Company for their direct and indirect help and support to this project, particularly Greg Link, Stephen M. R. Covey, Roger Merrill, Patti Pallat, Nancy Aldridge, Darla Salin, Kerrie Flygare, Leea Bailey, Christie Brzezinski, Julie Shepherd, Gloria Lees, and our outside counsel, Richard Hill.

-Randy Royter and his associates at Royter Snow Design for bringing the visual and design elements of the book alive.

-our friends at Golden Books, particularly Bob Asahina, for his splendid professional editing and for always keeping us connected to the pulse of the reader. Also my supportive and creative literary agent, Jan Miller.

-the hundreds of families who have so willingly shared their experiences in applying this material in their families.

-the many mentors, teachers, scholars, authors, and leaders who have influenced my thinking over the years.

-the spouses and children of the book team members whose constancy of support, encouragement, patience, and belief have sustained and lifted us all.

-my parents, my three sisters, Irene, Helen Jean, and Marilyn, and my brother, John, for contributing to my happy childhood.

And, finally, I express my appreciation for the goodness of an overriding Providence in my life.

For all children, our common mission

A PERSONAL MESSAGE.

Dear Reader, Never in all my life have I had such a passion for a project as I have for writing this book-because family is what I care the most about, as I imagine you do also.

Applying the 7 Habits material to the family is an absolute natural. It fits. In fact, it's where it was really learned. You'll sense this when you read the marvelous stories of how families of every kind share how they applied the 7 Habits and what resulted.

I'm also sharing a lot about me and our family-how we've tried to apply it and also how we've blown it. Every family situation is unique and different. So is ours. But in many ways every family is similar. My guess is that we struggle with many of the same kinds of problems and day-to-day challenges you do.

One of the personal dilemmas I have in writing the book is just how much to share of our family stories, mistakes, and achievements. On the one hand, I don't want to sound as if we think we have all the answers. On the other hand, I don't want to hold back from sharing where my heart is and where I have really learned the remarkable power of the 7 Habits.

I've asked Sandra and the children to share also-the good and the bad. Their stories are set off with their names in bold. Perhaps we've gone overboard; about a fifth of the stories are about us. But the stories are only illustrations of principles, which are universal. You may not relate to the stories, but I believe you will relate to the principles. And I hope the stories will trigger new ideas that work in your situation.

With all this material, I want, above all, to instill a sense of hope that this way of thinking can really be helpful and can work for you. I know you want to prioritize your family, and I want to share with you a powerful way of doing this in our crazy, turbulent, often family-unfriendly world.

Finally, I firmly believe that family is the building block of society and that our greatest fulfillment lies there. I also believe the most important work we will ever do is at home. Former First Lady Barbara Bush said it beautifully to the graduating students at Wellesley College: "As important as your obligations as a doctor, lawyer, or business leader will be, you are a human being first, and those human connections-with spouses, with children, with friends-are the most important investments you will ever make. At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, not winning one more verdict, or not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a child, a friend, or a parent. . . . Our success as a society depends not on what happens in the White House but on what happens inside your house."1 I am convinced that if we as a society work diligently in every other area of life and neglect the family, it would be analogous to straightening deck chairs on the Titanic.

Sincerely, Stephen R. Covey

FOREWORD.

At the conclusion of our son's basketball tournament, I visited with one of the mothers. She said, "I'm surprised that your husband has been here for almost every game Joshua has played. I know he's on the run-writing, consulting, traveling. How has he managed?" The first thought that flashed into my mind was that he has a great wife and a full-time assistant. But putting that aside, I replied, "He makes it a priority." And he does.

Stephen once told a group of high-powered businessmen, "If your company were falling apart, you know you'd do whatever you had to do to save it. Somehow you'd find a way. The same reasoning applies to your family." Most of us know what we need to do, but do we want to do it?

Stephen and I both had happy childhoods and wanted the same for our children. Life was much simpler then. I still remember the long summer evenings as a child playing night games with all the neighborhood children: kick the can; hide-and-seek; red rover, red rover; run, sheepie, run. Our parents watched us from lawn chairs or sat on their porches, chatting and visiting. Often, my mom and dad walked hand in hand to Fernwood's Ice Cream Parlor to get a double-decker cone. As children we took time to lie on the cool green grass and watch the clouds make pictures in the sky. Sometimes we slept outside on summer nights, after gazing in wonder at the billions of stars in the Milky Way. This was the picture in my mind, the ideal of a happy, secure family.

Stephen and I often discussed the kind of home and family life we wanted to create. As our family grew and our lives became busier and more complicated, we realized that successful families don't just happen. It takes every bit of combined energy, talent, desire, vision, and determination you can muster. Things you really care about take time, thought, planning, and prioritizing. You have to work at it and make sacrifices; you have to want it and pay the price.

People have often remarked to me, "You have nine kids. How wonderful. You must be patient." I never could follow that line of reasoning. Why would I be patient because I had nine kids? Why wouldn't I be a raving maniac? Or they'd say, "If you have that many kids, I guess one more doesn't matter." They say that because they never had one more.

Raising a large family has been hard work. I wanted life to be simple, the way I had remembered my own childhood, but Stephen kept reminding me that our life together would never be like that. It was more complicated. There was more pressure. The world has changed. Those days are gone-but they can still be remembered and treasured.

As Stephen was building his reputation as a consultant, speaker, and author, he had to travel a lot. This meant planning ahead so as not to miss important events such as football games, school productions, and junior proms. Whenever he was gone, he would call nightly to talk to each child and touch base.

"Somebody get the phone," you'd hear. "You know it's going to be Dad again. I talked to him last night. It's your turn!" "Oh, brother! Tell him to call back when the movie is over." "Is there no respect?" we'd ask.

When he was home, he was totally there. He was so much a part of their lives and so involved that I don't think anyone remembers his being gone. Stephen has always been a great listener, a continual learner, and a perpetual student. He's always asking questions-picking people's brains as if he's devouring the last of a Thanksgiving turkey, hoping to hear opinions different from his own. He values the differences. I admire him for trying to walk his talk. He truly tries to live all the principles he teaches and believes in. This is not easy to do. He is a man without guile. He has an uncommon sense of humility that touches, changes, and softens his heart, thus making me want to do likewise.

He is an idealist (which is a blessing and a curse). His idealism inspires and motivates me, the people he teaches, and our children; it makes us want to achieve and lift ourselves and others. He is also a struggler, as I am (and as most of us are).

When we're trying to live what we believe, struggling but moving in the right direction, our children will usually accept our values. Our hearts and intentions are good-we have the vision and desire-but we often blow it. Our temper can put us in a compromised situation, and our pride can keep us there. We often get off track, but we keep coming back.

I remember an experience I had when our oldest daughter, Cynthia, was three years old. We had just moved into our first house-a tiny, new, three-bedroom tract house that we were crazy about. I loved decorating and worked hard to make it charming and attractive.

My literary club was meeting there, and I had spent hours cleaning so that every room looked perfect. I was anxious to show my friends around, hoping they would be impressed. I put Cynthia down for the night and thought she would be sleeping when they peeked in to see her-noticing, of course, her darling room with the bright yellow tied quilt and matching curtains and the cute, colorful animals I had made and hung on the walls. But when I opened her door to show off my daughter and her room, I discovered to my dismay that she had hopped out of bed, pulled all of her toys out of her toy chest, and scattered them all over the floor. She had emptied the clothes from her dresser drawers and thrown them all over the floor. She had dumped out her Tinker Toys, puzzles, and crayon box-and she was still going at it! Her room was a disaster. It looked as if a tornado had hit it. In the midst of all this, she looked up with a mischievous smile on her face and said sweetly, "Hi, Mummy!"

I was furious that she had disobeyed me and gotten out of bed; I was upset that her room was all messed up and that no one could see how cute it was decorated; and I was annoyed that she had put me in this embarrassing situation in front of my friends.

I spoke sharply to her, spontaneously spanked her little bottom, and put her back to bed with a warning not to get up again. Her lower lip started to quiver. She looked shocked at my response, and her eyes filled with tears. She started sobbing, not understanding what she had done wrong.

I closed the door and immediately felt terrible for overreacting. I was ashamed at my behavior, realizing that it was my pride-not her actions-that had set me off. I was angry at myself for such an immature response and shallowness. I was sure I had ruined her for life. Years later I asked her if she remembered the incident, and I breathed a sigh of relief when she said no.

Faced with the same situation today, I think my response would be to laugh. "That's easy for you to say!" my daughters respond as they struggle with their toddlers. But what once seemed important to me has shifted and matured.

We all go through stages. Concern about appearances, making good impressions, being popular, comparing yourself to others, having unbridled ambition, wanting to make money, striving to be recognized and noticed, and trying to establish yourself-all fade as your responsibilities and character grow.

Life's tests refine you. Genuine friendships sustain you. Being unaffected and genuine, having integrity, and facing problems squarely help as you try to reach out, make a difference, touch a life, be an example, do the right thing. You become motivated as you struggle to become a better person.

The struggles are ongoing. After raising nine kids, I think I'm just beginning to get some perspective. Many times I blew it, lost my temper, misunderstood, judged before understanding, didn't listen, and acted unwisely. But I also tried to learn from my mistakes. I apologized, grew up, shifted my values, recognized growth stages, didn't overreact, rolled with the punches, learned to laugh at myself, had fewer rules, enjoyed life more, and realized that raising kids is hard work-physically and emotionally. It's draining as well as fulfilling. You fall into bed at night, totally exhausted, and like Scarlett O' Hara murmur, "Tomorrow is another day." Oh, to be half as smart as your child thinks you are and half as dumb as your teenager sees you!

Through it all I've learned that parenting is basically a life of sacrifice. I have a sign in my kitchen to remind me: "Motherhood is not for wimps." Along with your children you go through lessons and practicing, carpools and braces, tears and tantrums, ages and stages, traumas and triumphs, homework, table manners, puberty, pimples, puppy love, driver's licenses, fighting, and teasing.

But in the end (as in childbirth) you don't remember the pain. You remember the joy of being a parent, of worrying and sacrificing for that remarkable son or daughter you love with all your soul. You remember the expressions on your children's faces through the years-how they looked in that special dress or outfit they wore. You remember your pride in their success, your pain in their struggles. You remember the wonderful times, the fun of it all, the quiet moments of bonding as you gazed at the baby you were nursing, filled with the awe and wonder of your stewardship and your fulfillment in being a parent and nurturing a family.

It wasn't until we had our seventh baby, Colleen, that I felt as though I was really putting it all together. I finally learned how to say no to the unimportant. As I sat in my rocking chair, looking out the window, nursing, bonding, glad to be there, savoring the moment rather than thinking I should be doing something else, a sense of joy and balance filled me. Finally I knew that for me this is what it was all about.

So I only remember the good times. But then, only seven of our children are married. We still have two at home. And Joshua, our seventeen-year-old high school junior, often reminds me (with a twinkle in his eye), "We could ruin you guys!"

Each of you has a very different and very personal family life, one that is unlike anyone else's. You've probably discovered, as I did, that life isn't simple anymore. Society doesn't support families as it used to. Life is more technological, faster, more sophisticated, scarier.

The theories and principles put forth in this book were not invented by Stephen. He noticed them, observed them, put them together in some workable order. These are universal principles that you already know in your heart to be true. That's why they seem so familiar. You've seen them in action. They've worked in your own life. You've even used them yourself-often.

What is helpful, however, is giving you a framework, a way of thinking about and looking at your own unique situation and finding a way to deal with it. It's a starting point, a way to examine where you are right now and where you want to go, and ways that might help you get there.

A few years ago Carol, one of my best and dearest friends, developed cancer. After months of radiation, chemotherapy, and operations, she realized what her fate would be. She never asked, "Why me?" There was no bitterness or feeling of despair. Her whole perspective on life changed dramatically. "I don't have any time for things that don't matter," she told me. "I know what's important and where to put my priorities." Her courage touched my heart as I watched her strengthen her relationship with her husband, children, and loved ones. Her utmost desire was to serve, contribute, and somehow make a difference. Her death made all of us who loved her want to become better and stronger people-more willing to love, care, and serve. In a sense she wrote her mission statement for life on her deathbed. You can begin writing yours now.

No one will ever really understand your situation, your uniqueness-the rocks or baggage you carry or the idealism you hope for. You can take from this book what you will, what feels right for you. Some story or example might hit home and you'll be able to stand back, stand apart, and look at your own life and gain insight or perspective.

We want to give hope to those who feel they've made a lot of mistakes, blown it, or not prioritized their families and are feeling the repercussions of that decision-or even those who may have lost a child along the way. You can reclaim a lost child. It is never too late. You should never give up or stop trying.

I believe this book will help you become that agent of change, that transition person who will make a difference.

Every good wish in your efforts, Sandra Merrill Covey

YOU'RE GOING TO BE "OFF TRACK" 90 PERCENT OF THE TIME. SO WHAT?

Good families-even great families-are off track 90 percent of the time! The key is that they have a sense of destination. They know what the "track" looks like. And they keep coming back to it time and time again.

It's like the flight of an airplane. Before the plane takes off, the pilots have a flight plan. They know exactly where they're going and start off in accordance with their plan. But during the course of the flight, wind, rain, turbulence, air traffic, human error, and other factors act upon that plane. They move it slightly in different directions so that most of the time that plane is not even on the prescribed flight path! Throughout the entire trip there are slight deviations from the flight plan. Weather systems or unusually heavy air traffic may even cause major deviations. But barring anything too major, the plane will arrive at its destination.

Now how does that happen? During the flight, the pilots receive constant feedback. They receive information from instruments that read the environment, from control towers, from other airplanes-even sometimes from the stars. And based on that feedback, they make adjustments so that time and time again, they keep returning to the flight plan.

The hope lies not in the deviations but in the vision, the plan, and the ability to get back on track.

The flight of that airplane is, I believe, the ideal metaphor for family life. With regard to our families, it doesn't make any difference if we are off target or even if our family is a mess. The hope lies in the vision and in the plan and in the courage to keep coming back time and time again.

Sean (our son): In general, I'd say that our family had as many fights as other families when we were growing up. We had our share of problems, too. But I am convinced that it was the ability to renew, to apologize, and to start again that made our family relationships strong.

On our family trips, for example, Dad would have all these plans for us to get up at 5:00 A.M., have breakfast, and get ready to be on the road by 8:00. The problem was that when the day arrived, we'd all be sleeping in and no one wanted to help. Dad would lose his temper. When we'd finally get off, about twelve hours after the time we were supposed to go, no one would even want to talk to Dad because he was so mad.

But what I remember the most is that Dad always apologized. Always. And it was a humbling thing to see him apologize for losing his temper-especially when you knew deep inside that you were one of the ones who had provoked him.

As I look back, I think what made the difference in our family was that both Mom and Dad would always keep coming back, keep trying-even when we were goofing off, even when it seemed that all their new plans and systems for family meetings and family goals and family chores were never going to work.

As you can see, our family is no exception. I'm no exception. I want to affirm at the very outset that whatever your situation-even if you are having many difficulties, problems, and setbacks-there is tremendous hope in moving toward your destination. The key is in having a destination, a flight plan, and a compass.

This metaphor of the airplane will be used continuously throughout this book to communicate a sense of hope and excitement around the whole idea of building a beautiful family culture.

The Three Purposes of This Book

My desire in writing this book is to help you keep this sense of hope first and foremost in your mind and heart, and to help you develop these three things that will help you and your family stay on track: a destination, a flight plan, and a compass.

1. A clear vision of your destination. I realize that you come to this book with a unique family situation and unique needs. You may be struggling to keep your marriage together or to rebuild it. Or you may already have a good marriage but want a great one-one that is deeply satisfying and fulfilling. You may be a single parent and feel overwhelmed by the relentless crush of demands and pressures put upon you. You may be struggling with a wayward child or a rebellious teenager who is under the control of a gang or drugs or some other negative influence in society. You may be trying to blend two families together who "couldn't care less."

Perhaps you want your children to do their jobs and their homework cheerfully, without being reminded. Or you're feeling challenged trying to fulfill combined (and apparently conflicting) roles in your family life, such as parent, judge, jury, jailer, and friend. Or you're bouncing back and forth between strictness and permissiveness, not knowing how to discipline.

You may be struggling simply to make ends meet. You may be "robbing Peter to pay Paul." Your economic worries may almost overwhelm you and consume all your time and your emotions so that there is hardly anything left for relationships. You may have two or more jobs, and you and your loved ones just pass one another like ships in the night. The idea of a beautiful family culture may seem ever so remote.

It could be that the feeling and spirit in your family is contentious, that you have people quarreling, fighting, yelling, screaming, demanding, snarling, sniping, sneering, blaming, criticizing, walking out, slamming doors, ignoring, withdrawing, or whatever. It could be that some older kids won't even come home, that there seems to be no natural affection left. It could be that the feeling in your marriage has died or is dying, or that you're feeling empty and alone. Or it could be that you're working your heart out to make everything nice, and nothing seems to improve. You're exhausted, and you have a sense of futility and "what's the use?"

Or you may be a grandparent who cares deeply but doesn't know how to help without making things worse. Perhaps your relationship with a son or daughter-in-law has become soured, and there's nothing but surface politeness and a deep cold war inside, which occasionally erupts into a hot one. It could be that you've been a victim of abuse for many years-in your upbringing or in your marriage-and you're desirous and determined to stop that cycle, but you can't seem to find any pattern or example to follow and keep falling back into the same tendencies and practices you abhor. Or it could be you're a couple that wants desperately to have children but can't, and you feel the sweetness in your marriage beginning to slip away.

You may even be experiencing a combination of many of these stresses, and you have no sense of hope at all. Whatever your situation, it is vitally important that you do not compare your family to any other family. No one will ever know the full reality of your situation, and until you feel that they do, their advice is worthless. Similarly, you will never know the full reality of another family or another person's family situation. Our common tendency is to project our own situation onto others and try to prescribe what is right for them. But what we see on the surface is usually only the tip of the iceberg. Many people think that other families are just about perfect while theirs is falling apart. Yet every family has its challenges, its own bag of rocks.

The wonderful thing is that vision is greater than baggage. This means that a sense of what you can envision for the future-a better situation, a better state of being-is more powerful than whatever ugliness has accumulated in the past or whatever situation you are confronting in the present.

So I would like to share with you the way that families throughout the world have created a sense of shared vision and values through the development of a "family mission statement." I'll show you how you can develop such a statement and how it will unify and strengthen your family. A family mission statement can become your family's unique "destination," and the values it contains will represent your guidelines.

The vision of a better, more effective family will probably start with you. But to make it work well, others in the family must also feel involved. They must help to form it-or at least understand it and buy into it. And the reason is simple. Have you ever done a jigsaw puzzle or seen someone doing one? How important is it that you have the final scene in mind? How important is it that all who are working on it have the same final scene in mind? Without a sense of shared vision, people would be using different criteria to make their decisions, and the result would be total confusion.

The idea is to create a vision that is shared by everyone in the family. When your destination is clear, you can keep coming back to the flight plan time and time again. In fact, the journey is really part of the destination. They are inseparably connected. How you travel is as important as where you arrive.

2. A flight plan. It's also vital that you have a flight plan based on the principles that will enable you to arrive at your destination. Let me share with you a story to illustrate.

I have a dear friend who once shared with me his deep concern over a son he described as being "rebellious," "disturbing," and "an ingrate."