Celebrate the Best of Us

Am I forever unredeemable?
Can I ever overcome all the wrongs I'm running from?
Can my worst be left behind
And do I deserve to find
There's a soul who could see any good in me?
Or will I only ever be
Unredeemable?

–Unredeemable, from Spirited

Spirited is one of my favorite Christmas movies today. Only two years old, it stars Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds and is an over-the-top A Christmas Carol twist of a musical comedy. I love it. Our kids like it. My wife Amy does not. At least, not all the singing and dancing parts. Actually, none of the singing and dancing parts. 

She's not a musical fan, but she kind of likes the story. That one along with many other holiday movies we watch this time of year: predictable campy comedies and melodramatic classics and heartfelt uplifters. For us anyway. The Holiday, Elf, Christmas Vacation, Just Friends, Four Christmases, Noelle, When Harry Met Sally, The Family Man (still my favorite), and It's a Wonderful Life (always a favorite). There are others as well, but these are the mainstays. And yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

However, A Christmas Carol isn't one of my favorites, whether the Charles Dickens' novel or any of the movie adaptations over the years. I get the story. I like the story. Just not a favorite.

But the theme of it -- that even the worst human is redeemable and can be inspired to find the good inside others and inspire others to do the same -- has always resonated with me. 

Too bad the worst humans today get the most media visibility and inspire too many others to do their worst as well, including our children and grandchildren. Our own children ask us all the time now why so many people celebrate and support those who embrace the worst qualities of humanity. That's always a super-tough one to answer, and it gets harder to answer as our kids get older. 

Because we're all a little unredeemable, aren't we? That's what makes us human (and why we watch all those campy holiday movies each year). No matter what religious or spiritual belief system and/or societal norms we choose to live by, or try to live by, or pretend to live by, most of us have made poor choices and done bad things we're not proud of. 

Some of those have seen the light of day and hopefully we've repented, while others are secrets buried deep inside the dark wells of our hearts. Mercy me, that seems to be the plot of nearly every contemporary dark novel and movie adaptation in recent memory. 

Our kids want to know about our poor choices and bad things we're not proud of; they want to understand who we were, those choices we've made in our lives, and why we became who we are today as they're becoming who they are tomorrow. Of course, we don't tell them everything, but we do want them to understand the why of our choices and what those repercussions were, and what they could be today or tomorrow if they made them.

When they ask, we also talk openly about the worst of humanity with our kids now that they're older, while emphasizing the best of humanity when they don't. We know we shouldn't be defined by the worst things we've done, as long as we've worked hard to be good people and do good things for ourselves and others. 

Are we ever unconditionally selfless, empathetic, and loving with others throughout our lifetimes, no matter what they've done? For most of us, no. It's more complicated and nuanced for most humans, and the worst-of-us recidivism is unfortunately up these days. But instead of wallowing in all that, something I struggled with in my youth, I only need to look at my wife and children to know that we work hard to celebrate the best of us. It's not a Dickens' novel, or a spirited modern day musical (of which Amy is thankful), but it is a story of redemption I continue to write with gratitude.