Before We Bring the Kids to the Table
My dad once told me I needed management training.
He meant something like a one-day seminar. Maybe $500.
I took that idea a little further.
I started with management books. Then leadership books. Classes. Programs. Mentors. Coaches. More books. Lots more books.
Eventually, my management training had very little to do with management.
I invested in personal coaching. My marriage. Communication. Relationships. Then healing work. Fear work. Spiritual work. Intuitive work. Understanding my gifts. Learning to listen to my body. Learning what happens when I know something and override it anyway.
Apparently, I’m still in management training. Ha.
But there is a harder part of this story.
My dad encouraged me to develop myself. He didn’t make the same investment in himself.
And eventually, as I changed, our relationship changed too.
Today, we no longer work together.
For a long time, I could have looked at that as evidence that something went wrong.
I don’t anymore.
The work actually did what it was supposed to do.
I got clearer. Clearer about who I was. What I valued. What I wanted. What I was really good at. What was mine to carry and what wasn’t. And clarity has consequences.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately as I’ve been spending more time around family offices and learning about the incredible work being done to prepare the next generation.
There are programs for financial literacy, stewardship, governance, trusts, leadership, family enterprise and understanding the responsibilities that can come with wealth.
I love that this exists.
I also keep wondering if I would start somewhere else.
Because we inherit a lot before anyone inherits money.
We inherit roles. Expectations. Fears. Definitions of success. Stories about money. Ideas about responsibility. Who is good with money. Who isn’t. Who will probably take over. Who needs protecting. What makes Dad proud. What makes Mom nervous.
Some of that is incredibly useful.
Some of it might not belong to us at all.
And it takes time to know the difference.
So if a dad came to me today and said, “I want to start preparing my daughters,” I don’t think I’d start by taking the daughters somewhere without him.
I’d invite him in too.
I’d want to know him. What does he want for his girls? What is he afraid of? What does he hope they do with what he’s built? What happens inside him if they don’t want it?
Then I’d want the girls to have their own space.
Not to prepare the right answers for Dad. To figure out theirs.
Who am I? What matters to me? What am I curious about? What are my gifts? What kind of life do I want? What do I know already? What do I have absolutely no idea about yet?
“I don’t know” is allowed.
Actually, I think we need considerably more room for I don’t know.
Because when we start working with people individually, something interesting tends to happen. They get clearer. They gain confidence. They recognize their own desires and values. They start trusting themselves. Which is wonderful.
Until their clarity isn’t what everyone else wanted. That’s where the relationship work begins.
Kevin and I have experienced this over and over in our marriage. It’s one thing to know myself more deeply. It’s another thing to be married to someone who is changing too.
We have had to learn each other again. Families do too.
So maybe Dad does his work. Mom does hers. The kids begin theirs when they’re willing. A couple starts noticing what has changed between them. And over time, we bring people together.
Not because everyone has finally arrived at the same answer.
Because there is enough room now for different answers.
That’s the kind of family meeting I’m interested in.
Yes, let’s talk about the money.
Let’s understand the trusts and investments and businesses. Let’s meet the advisors. Let’s learn stewardship. Let’s talk about responsibility and opportunity and what has been built.
But let’s also leave some room for what we don’t know yet.
The daughter nobody expected to be interested in the business might want in.
The son everyone assumed would lead it might want something completely different.
Someone might discover a gift the family has never really seen.
Someone might finally say the thing everyone else already knew.
Someone might need another five years.
We don’t know.
That’s kind of the point.
I think about this with my own six boys.
One of our sons felt called to the military. Other people had opinions about whether that could possibly be his calling.
I remember thinking, How would they know?
And then realizing the harder question.
How would I?
I can know him deeply. Love him. Challenge him. Share what I see.
I cannot know his life for him.
Maybe that’s part of what parents are preparing for too.
We aren’t just preparing our children to steward what we’ve built.
We’re preparing ourselves to be in relationship with them as they discover what is theirs.
And I think that work can start long before the first official family meeting.
One human at a time.
Then relationships.
Then the family.
With enough time to unpack some things. Unlearn some things. Know ourselves a little better. Trust ourselves a little more.
And leave enough space for something none of us could have planned to emerge.
Maybe preparing the next generation was never supposed to start with the next generation.
Maybe it starts with us?
With love and belief,
Jaime & Kevin
