My answer to our legacy planner's draft Family Wealth Letter of Intent

My answer to our legacy planner’s draft Family Wealth Letter of Intent

What information can help an estate planning/legacy planning professional create the best plan for you? A document like this could help!

As I noted a month ago, our legacy planner provided a draft “Family Wealth Letter of Intent” designed to summarize in written form what Sarita and I currently understand God’s plans to be for the remaining time we have on earth, and to serve as a guide to our family and advisors to help them understand our life priorities and the things we want to do for our children and for God’s Kingdom . . . during the remainder of our life on earth . . . and beyond.

I indicated I was not happy with the paper as our planner had drafted it. It wasn’t “us.” Honestly, it overemphasized things we would have emphasized far less (and maybe not mentioned at all); it used words and phrases that we would never use; it failed to express the things that we most highly value; and it said several things that, frankly, were just plain untrue.

So I knew I had to rewrite it. And I finally finished my rewrite today. As I wrote a month ago, so now: I share this with you “primarily because I want you to see the full process we are going through. Sometimes the process is easy; often, I’m afraid, it is–or is going to be–very difficult. Most importantly, I think you need to understand that legacy planning is an iterative process.”

So here is my/our “latest iteration.”

*******

From: John Holzmann
Sent: Saturday, December 29, 2007 1:06 PM
To: J_____
Subject: Holzmann Family Letter of Intent, Draft 1

J_______:

I am, herewith, sending a final (complete) first draft of [Sarita's and my Family Wealth Letter of Intent].

Please note:

1) Yes, we recognize this is a large document. Way larger than the one you-all drafted.

At the same time,

2) As we read the original document, it seemed so lacking in detail, we couldn’t figure out how it could possibly be really useful to anyone.

Therefore,

3) You will see we have added a number of comments that state what we believe the document is supposed to be about and how it should be used. We added these comments, first, to help the reader but, second, to seek clarification from you: have we understood your intended purpose?

4) As we say at the end of our Introduction, the document as written, though obviously meant to be read by all manner of people, is directed to our children alone. If, as I surmise, a much shorter document would be more helpful to our counselors, then, may I suggest we create a separate summary document that will contain only those items necessary for the use of our counselors? Leave the long document for the sake of our children.

What do you think? Does this make sense?

Thanks for your and C_____’s help!

John

*******

File Attached: Holzmann Family Letter of Intent – 20071229.docx

John A. and Sarita Holzmann
Family Wealth Letter of Intent

Introduction

Let all men know by these presents that we, John A. and Sarita Holzmann of Highlands Ranch, CO, desire to arrange our personal and financial affairs in such a way that we will please God and do the most good with the rest of our lives. We desire and expect to do this by maximizing the impact for good of (a) our personal attributes—our unique knowledge, experience, skills, talents, interests, personalities, etc., and (b) the material wealth we have been blessed to own.

While holding no legal force on its own, this letter is intended to help our advisors and our children understand

(a) What we currently believe God’s plans are for us during the remaining time we have on earth.

(b) What personal attributes, interests, skills, priorities, principles, and so forth, we seek to guide us.

And, all in all,

(d) The background, history, thinking, reasons—philosophy—behind legal documents we expect soon to draft, legal structures we expect soon to create, and gifts we desire soon to give.

While we understand this document will be read by many people far beyond our family members, we have attempted to write it as if it was to you, our children—and your descendants after you—alone.

Where We Come From—Our Roots

Sarita

My parents, T_____ and S_____ H_____, had the most significant impact on me while I was growing up. As I like to tell it, they were “from the boat off”—the Netherlands. They had no more than an 8^th grade education, and were born and raised on family farms in northern Holland. They got married in 1949. Like so many others in Holland at the time, they put off marriage until after World War II. They were in their late 20s.

My parents were very reserved, expressing almost no emotion, ever. I never saw them hug or kiss; I never saw or heard them fight, either. If they had problems between them—which, occasionally, I am sure they did—they never talked about it . . . at least not in my presence.

I remember some close relatives came to visit from Holland. My parents hadn’t seen them in something like 25 years. I knew they were excited to see these aunts and uncles of mine. But when we met them at the airport, there were no hugs or kisses. They simply shook each other’s hands—vigorously!

The first time I remember my dad ever kissing me was the day John and I got married.

Even though they were, outwardly, so undemonstrative, I know my parents loved each other. They were always faithful to each other. Also, though they—and we, together, as a family—hardly ever talked about much of anything of deep personal significance, I would say we were a fairly close family. We wouldn’t talk (mealtimes, for example, were pretty much silent), but we did do many things together. We would often take Sunday hikes together and go camping in the summer. For a while, we owned a camping trailer and one summer, while my dad would go to work every day, we—the rest of the family—stayed in the trailer by a lake . . . the whole summer!

My parents were very regular, stable people. They always followed a schedule. Wherever I was—at college, forever after John and I got married—I always knew what they would be doing. 8 o’clock in the evening? It was “coffee” time (or, actually, tea!). 10 in the morning on the weekend? They would be sitting in the front room drinking coffee and eating a sweet. Regular like clockwork.

I wouldn’t have thought of this next item as being related to stability, except it is striking in contrast to John’s background: I only lived in two places from the time I was born until we got married (with a single year—while I was in 7^th grade—that was kind of an “in-between” place while my parents were having our “new” house rebuilt; more about that in a moment).

The first house I lived in—until I was 12—was in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The second, in Grandville, several miles away—far enough to be a completely new neighborhood, but close enough to be in the same general community and among the same general people. (We were still part of the same Dutch, Christian Reformed community. We were still close enough to spend time with our cousins. . . . )

Our family may have owned a dozen books. Maybe. The only one I can remember for sure was the Bible. But we didn’t watch TV. Instead, every evening we read. So where did we get the books? From the library. I don’t know how my parents got their books, but I would walk or ride my bike to the library every week and check out the limit: 50 books. I loved to read!

Funny: I thought I would make a good children’s librarian. I could direct kids to the best books. But when I got to college, I didn’t study library science. I studied dietetics. And I don’t even like to cook!

I am impressed with my parents’ courage and vision.

One day, my father was in his family’s farmyard in Holland. A tractor salesman came to call. At the time (in the early 1950s), my dad’s dad—my grandfather—owned no tractor. My father thought it would be a good idea to purchase the equipment; it would be the way of the future. My grandfather said no. And it was at that point that my father decided there was no future for him in Holland and my parents decided to move to America! –How difficult such a decision would have to be—to leave all they knew and move to a new country, learn a new language, start over completely! . . .

When my parents arrived in America, my father got whatever job he could find. For a while, that meant work in a carwash. Eventually he had to give up the carwash because, it seemed, the fumes made him sick. He would come home every night and vomit.

It is possible something else was happening. Eventually, the doctors discovered he had an ulcer in his stomach the size of a dime. That is huge! I often thought: Dad paid the price in his body of a potentially fatal ulcer in order to make a better life for us, his family.

As a matter of fact, he almost died as a result not of the ulcer itself, but of hepatitis he contracted from a blood transfusion he received while being treated for the ulcer.

After the carwash, Dad worked as a bagger in a grocery store. Then he got a job in a furniture factory where he rose to become the pattern maker—the guy who figures out how to turn the engineering drawings into actual production. A few years ago we figured out that at the end of his career, in the late ‘80s, he was making $9 an hour—not a lot of money, but enough.

In fact, my parents were very frugal and so, despite what I now realize were limitations of income, I never felt limited.

If anything, I felt we did quite well financially. My parents, when they bought a car, always bought new. They sent me (and my brother S_____, and my sister T_____) to Christian school. They bought and paid for the house on I______ where I grew up from 12 on and where my mom still lives as of this moment. (It was an old farmhouse on a two-and-a-half acre plot. They gutted the place and completely rebuilt it.)

Our family never went out to eat. Actually, we went out once that I can remember. But it seemed to my parents like such an unnecessary extravagance! So we never went out again as a family. (I never had pizza, spaghetti, Mexican food, peanut butter and jelly, or anything, much, besides “meat and potatoes” (with vegetables and a little dessert) until I went off to college! . . . When I was in high school, I did go out with friends for “coffee” after work. So I did know how restaurants work. But I never ate meals away from home.)

When I was 12 and began to babysit, my mom told me it was time for me to buy my own clothes and to pay for my own incidentals. When I went off to college and needed a car in order to get from home to college (a commute across town), I bought my own Honda Civic. My parents helped me by paying the insurance.

In our family, if we needed something, we either bought it or made do without. We never borrowed! (I should say: we never borrowed things. I borrowed in order to buy my Honda. And I’m sure my parents borrowed in order to buy the house. What I’m talking about is if we ran out of sugar or salt or needed an egg for a recipe, or if we needed a saw to cut a limb off a tree. We would never go to a neighbor to ask to borrow. That would have been embarrassing!) We were very self-sufficient and “by ourselves.”

A couple of years before Dad died—of stomach cancer, probably a long-term complication from his ulcer!—for some reason he seemed compelled to tell John about his financial success. He showed John his current bank statement. He had $______! Having never made more than $9 an hour. Having retired at 65—over 15 years earlier. Having put something into the collection plate at church every week. Having bought a new car every few years. Having paid for his house. Having sent his three kids through Christian school and on to college. . . .

I grew up in the Dutch, Christian Reformed Church. I think I should say a few things about that, because a lot of who I am was formed by that church and the Grand Rapids Dutch, Christian Reformed community.

Our family always went to church. Every Sunday morning. We usually slipped into church quietly and sat near the back. When the service was over, we would then slip out, too. We never stuck around for “coffee” the way everyone else did. My parents never felt comfortable socializing with others. Instead, it seems, they always wanted to be out of the way. Out of sight. Quiet. Unobtrusive.

Because of my parents’ beliefs, we never worked on Sundays. Sundays were the Lord’s Day, the Sabbath, a day of rest. We couldn’t work and we couldn’t play. (Though in the evening we would sometimes get together with friends and play spoons!) I remember one day, a Saturday, it was about 8 o’clock in the evening. It was snowing. My dad suddenly looked up: “Is there gas in the car?” He realized it was low. Without saying another word, he got up, put on his boots, his coat and cap and went out into the snow to get the car filled . . . so he wouldn’t have to fill it on the Sabbath.

After dinner every day, Dad would read from the Bible . . . without comment. We would never talk about whatever it was he had read. And after he was finished reading, we would then all bow our heads and pray silently. We prayed silently before and after every meal.

I can’t remember my parents ever really talking about their beliefs. I knew they believed in Jesus and lived their lives the way they did because of their beliefs. But we never discussed things. Any theological training was left to the church and to the pastor.

I was—as we all were—baptized soon after I was born. Baptism, we were taught, was a “sign of the covenant” that God made with His people—the Jews in the Old Testament and with all believers in the New. (Circumcision had been the “sign” in the Old Testament; baptism was the symbol that replaced circumcision. And as circumcision was applied to all the sons of the covenant in the Old Testament, so, we were taught, baptism is to be applied to all the children of the New Covenant.)

Later, I attended Catechism classes. And, sometime around middle school, when it was generally expected that young people made a public profession of faith, I did so.

But it wasn’t until I left our church’s denominational school—Calvin College in Grand Rapids—and began attending Michigan State, that I first bumped into people who talked in much more personal terms about asking Jesus into your life and receiving Him as your “personal Lord and Savior.” –That wasn’t the kind of vocabulary we used in the Christian Reformed Church!

I have to confess, even today, a little ambivalence about the more “evangelical” terminology. As I have always said: I can’t remember a time when I didn’t believe in Jesus nor a time when I felt compelled to specifically turn from a [non-Christian] way that I had been going in order to follow a new [godly, Christian] path. I had been brought up—from birth—to follow God’s ways. And I believe my parents did that to the best of their knowledge and ability, and I have always desired to do so as well.

Still, there was something new and vibrant I experienced among the Christian students at Michigan State that I had not seen among my peers at Calvin, and I desired that same way of life, and embraced and have been very comfortable to follow that—what you might call the . . . more enthusiastic—pattern of the evangelical groups and churches of which I have been a part pretty much ever since.

But back to my upbringing.

My parents lived a very plain, unremarkable life. Quiet. Unobtrusive. It was a safe and stable environment in which I grew up and I am grateful for my heritage.

If you were to look at the things I have described about my parents, you would find how much of their way of life has carried over to me in my adult years. Clearly, John and I have forged a different life than the one my parents lived. But there is a lot of carry-over. I don’t like being in the limelight. I’d prefer to be in the background. (Of course, as president of Sonlight/InquisiCorp, I can’t escape some notoriety. But you can understand why I struggle with having to be up front!) I prefer to be by myself. I struggle with being aware of—much less expressing—my emotions. I prefer regularity; a set schedule. . . . I could go on!

My marriage with John has definitely changed me. But now you know some of my roots—”who I am” deep inside (even though—keeping with my preference for quiet anonymity—I feel as if I would prefer never to have talked about it! J).

John

In some ways, my parents—E_____ and M______ Holzmann—had a great influence on me. But their influence was very different, I think, from the kinds of influence Sarita’s parents had on her. In most things, I think, I looked at my parents and, rather than admiring and wanting to follow them, I was upset by what I saw and determined to live differently.

Unlike Sarita’s parents, mine were highly communicative and highly demonstrative. I often saw them hug and kiss. But I also saw them fight. A lot. And theirs were bitter battles, usually fought via raised voice and bitter attacks (Mom) and relentless, brutal, courtroom-style, prosecutorial logic or passive-aggressive cluelessness or claims of victimhood (“Poor me!”; Dad).

I never saw my parents actually come to blows, though they occasionally did express themselves physically. There is one fight that I and most of my siblings remember. (My youngest brother and sister—D_____ and M_____—I am sure, were too young to remember.) We were sitting at the breakfast table when something erupted between them. I was sitting at the side near one end of the table when, suddenly, the whole table was upended and its contents dumped in the lap of the person sitting at the end to my left. I cannot see the people involved, but I have no doubt the person who lifted the table was my mom, and the person upon whom the table’s contents were dumped was my dad.

The next thing I knew, my parents were running around the house, almost assuredly my mom doing the majority of yelling. And at one point, she picked up a framed photograph of my dad’s mother that was sitting on a table and threw it at him: “Your mother . . . !” –The words hung in the air as the photo hit the wall and the glass in the frame shattered.

There was something very . . . defining about that moment. Something hateful and ugly. Very destructive.

I will not go into details of other fights. About three or four stand out in my mind from over the years. The one I just described. One in which my dad chased my mom as she ran out of the house, jumped in the car and began to drive away. He grabbed hold of the drivers’ side car door and ran alongside as she accelerated. Happily, she stopped. But all of us kids were in the house watching the drama unfold outside.

And the time my older brother, T_____, picked up a pair of scissors or a kitchen knife and locked the doors of our house while Dad was outside. And then T______ threatened to kill Dad if he dared to try to come back in.

As I recall, from T_____’s perspective, he was trying to protect Mom. . . .

Needless to say, our home was a place of turmoil. And I liked not to be there. I tried to stay away as much as possible.

I mentioned my dad would use what I called “passive-aggressive cluelessness” as a kind of weapon in his battles with my mom. I don’t know what other term(s) I should use to describe his behavior, but just a few years ago, I realized I grew up not to trust him. I think you’ll find many of my brothers and sisters would speak in much the same way. There was something about the way he acted. . . . It wasn’t as if he out-and-out lied; but it was more that he would say one thing, and then his behavior didn’t quite match up to what he had said. Lately, as I have talked with my siblings, I think some of us have characterized Dad as a kind of “chameleon”: he would say something, but you never knew exactly what to believe. Was he really telling the truth, or was he telling you something that only sounded good?

I think it was this inability to trust my father that helped lead me to pay such close attention to non-verbal communication . . . which is the basis on which I wrote my book Dating With Integrity.

Before I move on, I should mention a positive aspect of the fact that, as I said, my parents were highly communicative. The positive aspect: as a family, we tended to talk about anything and everything. Mealtimes were rarely quiet. I remember the first time Sarita came to visit, she was absolutely blown away by the fact that my sister R____, who was studying trigonometry at the time, dared to ask a question about trig at the dinner table! . . . And then the family—those of us who were present—joined right in to discuss trigonometry. At dinner! (Amazing! For Sarita. But normal for us Holzmanns.) And then, after dinner, Dad took us—those of us who were interested—out for a walk where we discussed further aspects of trigonometry: how it is used in practical, every-day affairs.)

Our family moved. A lot. I don’t remember moving, when I was one year old, from [the city of my birth] to San Jose (Campbell), California. But then we moved again shortly after I turned five—Campbell to Syracuse, New York. Then, after third grade, from Syracuse to Palo Alto/Stanford, California. (We lived in one house for six months, then a three-bedroom apartment for four and a half years—four boys in a 10’x12’ bedroom, the two girls in a 12’x14’ bedroom, and my parents in a larger room. One bathroom. Small!) From Stanford, then, we moved, between my 8^th and 9^th grade years, to Schenectady (Burnt Hills), New York.

For some reason, both of the moves from California to New York felt awful. I had no such bad feelings about our move to California. But either way, there was always upheaval and turmoil in our home. So when I had the opportunity, I got out of the house.

Another contributing factor to my desire to be gone: our house was a mess.

I wasn’t always as aware of that as I might have been. But I remember in high school coming to the decision that I no longer wanted to take a shower and brush my teeth, etc., in a bathroom that was fuzzy with hair and dust and talcum powder . . . not to mention mildew, spattered toothpaste and other unmentionables. Before I could clean the bathroom, however, I realized I needed to clean my own room. So I made a pathway from my bedroom (having cleaned my half of the room) down the hallway, to the bathroom, and, then, through the bathroom until it was clean enough to meet my preferences.

The rest of the house remained pretty much a mess.

I remember, my dad’s den (or office) in Burnt Hills had so much paper in it, you couldn’t walk. The magazines and other papers in the room were at least a foot, and perhaps two feet thick.

Sarita came to visit—my first attempt to bring her “home” to visit my parents—and, shortly after we arrived, she all but burst into tears. We went for a walk: “What’s wrong?”

“Do you realize?” she said. “There isn’t a single place to sit down in that whole house!”

And there wasn’t. Every chair. Every couch. Every table. Everything was covered with magazines, newspapers, and other things.

So I tried to get out of the house and spend time elsewhere: sometimes with friends, often working, and, most of all, at church—where my “family away from family” was.

I think I should note something positive my parents instilled in me. I would call it intellectual curiosity. I certainly grew up in an intellectually stimulating environment, with books and magazines everywhere (as noted, probably too much everywhere!). I remember in elementary school, we were asked to find out how many magazines our parents got each month—how many different subscriptions they had. Most kids in my class came from families where they got maybe three or four magazines. The top person’s family had 11 subscriptions. And then there was my family. I think we had over 30 subscriptions!) And then the books. They lined almost every available wall. Books everywhere. (My mom called them her “friends.”) She was always reading. I don’t think her love for reading necessarily rubbed off on me, but the collection certainly permitted me to browse the equivalent of a small library collection and satisfy serendipitous curiosity.

My siblings and I were expected to get good grades at school. And my parents were involved in the PTA and came to all our parent-teacher conferences. I wasn’t involved in sports (for reasons I’ll explain in a moment), but I was involved in theater. And Mom and Dad would come to my performances.

Living on the Stanford University campus in the mid- to late-60s meant I was in the midst of a place where there was a lot of social ferment, a lot of discussion, a lot of questioning of established authority/ies. My dad got involved in some of the weirdness of that time and place. He joined an eastern, mystic religious group called Subud. He participated in something called the Esalen Institution. He went to various weekend-long “encounter” groups where participants were supposed to “find themselves.” I seem to recall some discussion of “Primal Scream Therapy.” . . .

Meanwhile, my mom was home with us kids.

I didn’t understand the kind of stress my dad’s emotional, spiritual, and, in a sense, physical wandering placed upon my mom. But as he was out trying to “find himself,” she was there at home taking care of the six kids. I expect that was pretty hard on her.

Despite that, let me say, I admired my dad for (as I viewed it at the time) being willing to think about and pursue alternative perspectives, even while (what I thought was his primary social group—what was the rest of the family’s primary social group, but, as I now realize, may not have been his primary social group at all!) . . . –I admired his willingness and ability to pursue alternative perspectives, even while his social group was telling him to, as it were, “ignore the man behind the curtain”—i.e., anyone who would look at the world differently than the cultural majority viewed it.

I have wanted, always, to permit alternate perspectives to have their say in my ear, as well: “Seek first to understand and then to be understood.” But I have also always wanted to follow the wisdom contained in the aphorism I once read on the back of His magazine (publication of Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship at the time): “The purpose of an open mind—as of an open mouth—is to close it again on something solid.”

Maybe this is a good place for me to say something about my spiritual heritage.

My dad grew up in a non-observant Jewish family in Germany. While living in England during World War II, he professed faith in Christ. My mom, meanwhile—nine years young than him—was raised in a devout evangelical [Finnish Congregationalist] home. Her grandfather (her mother’s father) had been a Finnish congregational church planter.

My parents met at an Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship retreat. For the first several years after they were married, they served as co-leaders in the young marrieds’ classes at the (evangelical) Presbyterian churches they attended. In 1959 and 1960, however, several things conspired to send my dad on his (I would say) wild spiritual odyssey. He quit going to church. My mom “carried the load,” as it were to form us six kids spiritually.

We always went to church: Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday night. Sunday school, church services, youth groups at church, Campus Life group, summer camp. . . . For me, all of these places were a haven. They were, as I have said, “home away from home.” And the adults who led these groups and activities were surrogate parents. I was happy to relate to them as a son to a father or mother.

In the churches where I was raised, it was always understood that one must make a personal and definite commitment to Jesus if one wants to be saved: “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved” (Acts 6:31). You need to “love the LORD your God with all your heart and soul and mind and strength” (Mark 12:20). And you should live in accord with your profession of faith: “Faith without works is dead” (James 2:17; 1 John 2:3-6; 3:6; etc.) and, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar” (1 John 4:20).

I asked Jesus into my heart when I was 5. I asked again when I was 6, 7, 8. . . . I kept asking. And I kept realizing how much I failed to love. (When I was 6 or so, I said I hated my father. And when I was older, I didn’t just say it, I acted out my hatred for my brother Pete.)

This put me in a deep quandary. I have to confess, it still puts me in a quandary. It makes me skeptical. St. Paul wrote, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). I wish!

I see my own failures and recognize my own temptations and I see so few self-proclaimed followers of Christ who, themselves, exhibit much “newness of life.” But I also see no better ground for hope either in this life or in the one to come than what I read about in Scripture. And so I have dedicated myself, and I continually seek to rededicate myself to live as God shows the way.

My dad made good money as an electrical engineer, but mentally our family was always “poor.” We “couldn’t afford it” (whatever “it” was). “After all, we have six kids!”

That—what I call a “poverty mentality”—expressed itself in many ways. We never owned a new car—always bought used. My parents never paid off any of the houses they owned. (And, as far as I can tell, the lack of pay-off was not the result of a strategic decision to invest the difference. I say that because, when my dad retired, he expressed deep fear that he might not be able to pay his mortgage!) Whatever clothes we bought were usually bought at Sears or Penneys at the lowest price possible. My dad lost a couple of jobs because, rather than using his own resources, he abused his employers’ telephone systems, racking up multi-thousand-dollar long-distance charges on their phones, hoping they wouldn’t notice. . . .

I have often told the story of my family’s trip to Cape Cod where my dad saw gas at the best price we had seen all day—something like 32.9 cents a gallon (a great price at the time!). He pulled in and filled the tank. We were in a GM Suburban, so it took a lot—maybe about 25 gallons—of gas. Well, a mile or two up the road, another station had an even better price. My dad went ballistic. After a minute or two of his harangue, I said, “Dad! Will you shut up!?! I’ll pay you the 25 cents! It’s not worth the yelling!”

I despised my family’s “poverty” way of life and desired to do better.

I got my first job when I was 10 or 11, working for Treasure Island, a stamp, coin, and World War II memorabilia shop in Palo Alto. The guy who owned the place paid me $1 an hour in the form of merchandise: whatever I wanted. (I wanted stamps! –I loved their history and beauty . . . )

You were supposed to be 12 in order to get a paper route, but two months before my 11^th birthday, I got mine. I don’t know why they let me. But I served my customers well, made a lot of money, and won some pretty unbelievably wonderful prizes—a cool, five-speed stingray bicycle; a portable transistor radio (AM and FM . . . which was rare in those days); a record player; several trips to Disneyland; cases of Coke. One month, I made over $140—which was big money back in the late ‘60s, and especially for a kid in junior high!

I liked earning money because it gave me a little control over my life. I could eat the food I wanted. I could afford to buy clothes I wanted. As I said, I won a cool bicycle and, later, when I outgrew it, I was able to purchase a ten-speed racer. . . .

I held jobs all the way through high school.

When it was time to go to college, my dad said he would cover my first year, but after that, I was on my own. So during my freshman year, too, I worked . . . in my dorm’s cafeteria and in the grill. But as soon as my freshman year was over, I got a job as a secretary on the Michigan State campus. Full-time. I had to work there for a year in order to establish in-state residency: a designation that would reduce my tuition by close to two-thirds.

I worked for the Office of Programs for Handicappers (OPH). My boss, Judy, weighed something like 78 pounds and used an electric wheelchair with what they called “Michigan Feeder” arms. She was quadriplegic, which means she was profoundly weak (or paralyzed) in all four extremities. She had suffered polio as a little girl. Her assistant, Eric, was paraplegic—paralyzed from the middle of his back down. I got the job as their secretary/assistant, Judy told me, because I was the only person she had interviewed who looked her in the eye, shook her [birdlike, tiny] hand, and talked to her with respect, like a human being rather than a China doll who might break.

During that year of employment, I not only learned about handicappers (and politics and a whole bunch of other things), but I gained in-state residency and, half a year after my employment ended, on January 1, 1976, financial independence from my parents. I was now completely on my own and responsible for my own upkeep.

When I was in second grade, in Syracuse, I remember playing a game of kickball at school. I was “up” and gave the ball a good kick. I ran to first base . . . and that is all I remember. Next thing I knew, I was at home, terribly sick, for a week.

I had suffered an asthma attack.

For the rest of the time we were in Syracuse, asthma pretty well limited my sporting abilities. When we moved back to California before 4^th grade, most of the symptoms of asthma left, but I was so far behind my peers in my physical development, I never really caught up.

In 5^th grade, I was so weak, I couldn’t throw a basketball high enough even to hit the rim. When our teacher, Mr. Strange, had the class do a hundred-yard run, Peter Hogness and I were bringing up the rear, pretty much neck and neck, until, a few yards from the end, he fell down. So, officially, I was “second slowest” in the class, though if Peter had remained upright, I have no doubt I would have come in last.

Well, if you can’t compete on the playground, you can compete in other ways.

I competed intellectually. And socially.

In 5^th grade, Mr. Strange encouraged us to form—or, perhaps more accurately, didn’t discourage us from forming!—our own society. And my part in that society had to do with creating a newspaper, The Holzmanian Times. I believe we put out three issues, each of which included news, sports, and ads. . . .

Something I realized just recently: even back then, obviously, I enjoyed getting the story and retelling it. –I wasn’t good at creating stories, whole cloth, from nothing. I have never been good at telling jokes. But I have seemed to enjoy a talent for “getting the news” (whatever that news may be) and passing it along. I am curious about almost everything and seem pretty good at asking questions that elicit useful answers.

My dad, a stickler for detail in the papers I wrote, taught me how to edit. I believe it is through him that I came to view editing as a process of logical sleuthing or detective work: you’re trying to find out what “doesn’t work,” what is “out of place” . . . so you can put it right.

You would have seen me use all of these talents, abilities, or preferences—finding the story, getting the details of a story (through close questioning of those who may know something), editing and/or retelling the story and/or, simply, publishing it—throughout my life: back when I was in elementary school and published The Holzmanian Times; at the U.S. Center for World Mission when I edited Mission Frontiers and, even more, my private Exciting News from the Frontlines newsletter. . . . This penchant for finding and (re)telling the story is what has driven me throughout my association with Sonlight Curriculum, Ltd., over the past 17 years: whether when writing, editing and publishing the company catalog; writing instructors guide notes; or, even, writing emails in Sarita’s behalf. I find it pleasurable to get the story and pass it on (hopefully, even, in better shape than when I acquired it).

Our Marriage

As you know from having lived with us while you were growing up, and as you can see from what we’ve written above, the two of us are rather different! We have often said: where one of us is strong, the other is weak—and vice versa: where one is weak, the other is strong.

Sarita is extremely organized while John is quite unorganized. John is more spontaneous and Sarita is much more planned and methodical. Sarita is more practical and John is more intellectual. Sarita likes fiction, John prefers non-fiction. John feeds on interaction with people; Sarita is drained by it. Sarita is more skeptical while John is fascinated with new ideas. John likes to “live out loud” while Sarita prefers to be more private. Sarita is prompt while John constantly pushes time limits past the breaking point. . . . And so forth.

Rather than criticize each other or complain about the other in his or her perceived place of weakness, we have attempted, as much as possible, to concentrate on the strengths and to forgive the other where his or her weakness has caused pain. By banking off of each other in this way, we believe we have been able to minimize the negative impact of our weaknesses and use our strengths for mutual benefit and the benefit of those with whom we come into contact. You can certainly see these characteristics and habits at work in our history with Sonlight Curriculum: where Sarita’s ability to make decisions comes in handy in her role as CEO and, yet, John’s passion to do research comes in handy to provide Sarita with the information she needs to make the decisions. Or, conversely, John’s ability to communicate to and interact with other people permitted appropriate outlets for Sarita’s vision and knowledge . . . whether through the Sonlight catalog, its forums, letters, even—as necessary—phone calls with vendors and customers.

In coming together through marriage, we have both been changed: Sarita has found herself pushed into the spotlight more than she would ever choose on her own (think of John’s book, Dating With Integrity, and how it revealed “everything” about their relationship); John has found himself less involved socially—”out in the world”—than he thinks he might have been otherwise. And so he communicates far more via writing and the computer than he believes he would have if Sarita had been more outgoing.

At the same time, as we remark on our differences and our complementarity, we want to note a lot of commonalities.

From the start, we have committed ourselves to love Jesus with all our hearts, souls, minds and strength (Mark 12:30; Luke 10:27) and follow Him wherever He leads. This commitment, of course, has shaped our lives in many areas and has had quite an impact on the work we do and, even, where we have lived—from the suburbs of Philadelphia to attend seminary; to northern New Jersey to assist in pastoring a Christian Reformed Church; to Pasadena, California, to work at the U.S. Center for World Mission and with Caleb Project; to Highlands Ranch, Colorado, to continue working with Caleb Project and, eventually, Sonlight Curriculum.

We believe that much of success or failure in life is the result of certain habits of behavior, even certain rituals and/or symbolic practices one engages in. What we do means something. Again, you can see this theme developed with respect to at least one area of life in John’s book, Dating With Integrity. But you can also see it worked out in practice in various aspects of our lives:

· No one comes between us. We wanted (and still want!) to maintain unity in our relationship. And so—a symbolic outworking of that commitment—we sought never to allow anything to come between us physically in our relationship one with another. When you, our children, were young, we would never put one of you in a seat between us. –Just a minor symbolic reflection of the heartfelt mental commitment we had made.

· Sabbath and tithe. We believe that, in keeping with Deuteronomy 8:17-18, it is God who gives us the ability to make whatever wealth we may have to enjoy. (Yes, of course, we must work diligently and “be smart” about how we conduct our affairs and handle what we are granted, but, ultimately, the fact that we were born into families that gave us the heritages we enjoy; the fact that we came up with the idea of Sonlight; the fact that we have been given the abundance of strengths that the two of us enjoy together: these, we believe, are all mercies of God. It is also God’s mercy that we have—so far—not had to suffer major loss due to injury, death, or natural disaster.)

And so, partially as “mere” mental and spiritual disciplines, but also in a sense of obedience to principles we see laid out for us in Scripture, we have committed ourselves to “live by faith” when it comes to working diligently six days a week, but/and taking the seventh as a Sabbath to the Lord. We have also committed ourselves—from the very beginning of our marriage and all the way through the lean years—to a minimum form of financial obedience in the area of tithing on our gross income. If the federal government of the U.S. taxes on the gross, should the “Great King” expect His tithe to be anything less?

We believe the fruitfulness of a marriage is evidenced far more in the children and future generations it produces than whatever financial or material wealth it may create. As a result, we are far more concerned about the character that you, our children (and your progeny after you) will exhibit than what kind of physical things you-all may own or enjoy. And so we have sought to live our lives—and desire to continue to live our lives—with you, our descendants, very high in our priorities. We want to do everything we can to ensure you live your lives purposefully and fruitfully for God’s Kingdom.

How We Obtained Our Wealth

As we have already noted, neither of us grew up in an environment where wealth was part of our lives. Neither of us brought any financial substance to our marriage. To date, neither of us has received any inherited wealth from our families. For quite a few years following our marriage—certainly through the time we worked at the U.S. Center for World Mission and Caleb Project—our financial means were extremely limited (to put it mildly!).

Virtually all the wealth we now possess has come as a result of our ownership and management of Sonlight Curriculum, Ltd./InquisiCorp Corporation—an ownership and opportunity that, we recognize, was “handed to us,” as it were, when Becky Lewis came up with the idea, helped us launch it, and then walked away. Ownership and operation of Sonlight/InquisiCorp was not something we sought, although, once we owned it, we have attempted assiduously to guard and keep it as good stewards before God.

In sum, then, the wealth we own today far exceeds anything we ever imagined. Indeed, it exceeds anything we can imagine ever having attempted to imagine!—back when we were first married or even for the first many years after we started the company.

While Sonlight/InquisiCorp has generated lots of money, that end result has never been high among our priorities. Our desire, first and foremost, was—and still is—to serve as many people as possible in the highest and best manner we can figure to do such a thing. Of course, in order for a company to fulfill such a calling, its managers must carefully steward the company’s resources, and so we have attempted to do.

We are committed, in business, to fundamental principles of honesty, justice, and fair dealing; to charge our customers a reasonable (competitive) price for the products or services they acquire from us; to pay our employees a good wage for the work they do for us; and, to those to whom we owe payment, to pay “on time at the latest.” To borrow a phrase from John Wesley, we have also learned to “earn all we can, save all we can, and give all we can” for the glory of God and the advance of His Kingdom on Earth.

As various researchers have documented (think of Stanley and Danko in their The Millionaire Next Door), there are certain habits of frugality and moderation that seem to lead to wealth, and we feel blessed to have not only learned and adopted them, but, combined with the mercies of God we mentioned above, and the principles and habits of good business we have just outlined, to see that our labors have been rewarded with the wealth we now enjoy.

Our Responsibilities

. . . To Each Other

It is our firm conviction that everything we own is a stewardship from God since He, as Creator, is also Owner of all things. Our first responsibility, therefore, is not to ourselves, but to God.

Moreover, we believe, God directs us to look not only to our own interests, but also to the interests of others (Philippians 2:4). As St. Paul says, part of the reason we should work is in order that we may have something to share with those in need (Ephesians 4:28).

These thoughts are strongly in our minds as we realize that a modest, “middle class” U.S. standard of living is not only more than adequate to meet our needs, but is way above world standards. If we were to live “merely” as an average U.S. citizen, we would enjoy a lifestyle that fewer than one person in 20 around the world can imagine.

Therefore, partially to remind ourselves of how blessed we are to live such a lifestyle (“opulent” within the world!) and, partially, in order to maximize our ability to do good in this world, we have dedicated ourselves not to move further up the scale than modest middle class, even if or when our income permits a richer lifestyle than we now enjoy.

Having settled the “high end” of our lifestyle, we have had to consider, throughout our marriage, what is the “low end” beyond which we are unwilling to go unless circumstances completely beyond our control force us there. And with these thoughts in mind, we have realized that, if we are to fulfill what we believe God has called us to do with our lives, we must ensure, to the best of our ability, that we provide for our own basic needs and obligations: housing, food, clothing, transportation, and so forth. In order to be prudent and considerate neighbors, we must also prepare for reasonable “worst-case scenarios” like major medical crises, and, potentially, long-term care should we become disabled. And, of course, we must meet our tax liabilities (including any death taxes).

Beyond these basic “survival needs,” we have recognized a few additional areas where we believe it is good for us also to invest, at least while we are as intensely busy as we have been in the past 15 years or so. These “additional investments” help refresh us and keep us in good spirits. Among them: fairly regular meals “out” (so we don’t have to invest time in cooking—an activity that neither one of us finds particularly pleasurable); a couple of significant exploratory trips each year “just the two of us”—preferably international and/or cross-cultural; and 10 to 20 “shows” each year, whether dramatic, musical, or otherwise. As long as these things fit within what we call our 10 percent “Party Tithe” (see Deuteronomy 14:22-26), we are comfortable that these “entertainments” or “frivolities” are not only acceptable, but, actually, good investments.

. . . To You, Our Heirs

Partially because we never had much money; but even now, having acquired wealth: the first inheritance we have most wanted to leave you, our heirs, is not material, but intellectual and spiritual. It has to do with perspectives and values and fundamental commitments in life: to love God above all else (Mark 12:20); to “seek first the Kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33); to seek to bless those around you (Matthew 5:44); to love learning (!!!!); to love fine literature; to be inquisitive; to walk with integrity in all you do. We will continue to do what we can to build these things into you, your children’s, and however many future generations’ lives as we can. But, we sense, we have already conveyed to you about as much of this portion of your inheritance—these perspectives, values and commitments—as we will ever be able to convey.

*****

Besides the spiritual and intellectual, there is a material—primarily financial—inheritance as well that we feel uniquely privileged to pass on to you.

In discussing this portion of your inheritance, three considerations have seemed paramount in our minds: 1) Why—for what purpose—do we want to convey an inheritance? 2) When should we convey it? And, 3) How much do we want to convey?

As for
Why.

Scripture says the good man “leaves an inheritance for his children’s children” (Proverbs 13:22). And, of course, we want to do that. We want to do that in order to participate in what we desire for you and your descendants after you: multi-generational, compound growth of the family fortune; no “shirt sleeves to shirt sleeves in three generations,” but, rather, slow but steady increase in family fortune for a hundred generations (or until Christ returns).

In order to achieve these goals, we realize the wealth we pass on should provide a “hand up” that encourages you toward godly achievement; it must not become a “hand out” that encourages slothful, profligate, and/or foolish behavior. Put another way, we want to help you feel confident to pursue whatever path you believe God has called you to pursue, yet not so much that you will fail to pursue this path using your energy, time, and talents in a disciplined manner.

With respect to
When.

It seems to us that, with ever-lengthening lifespans, by the time we die, you, our heirs, are likely to be in your own old age and your children will be well into their adult years. Conveying an inheritance to you at that time is rather pointless, it seems to us. What good can it really do you or your children after you? Far better, it has seemed to us, if we can provide you a reasonable “nest egg,” as it were, as early in your lives as possible to help you pursue whatever path you believe God has called you to pursue.

Therefore, we have decided to give you virtually all your inheritance now, not only while we are still alive, so we can be available to mentor, coach and encourage you in how to steward your legacy, but while you are still (mostly) starting out on your life’s adventure and can still maximize your time.

Concerning
How Much.

As noted above, it is and has been our desire, if at all possible, to give you enough wealth to help you feel confident to pursue whatever path you believe God has called you to pursue, yet not so much that you will fail to pursue this path using your energy, time, and talents in a disciplined manner.

Indeed, having heard too many horror stories of the damage large inheritances have caused various heirs; and, further, knowing how truly beneficial it was for us to have to learn good habits as a result of owning such limited resources; we are, honestly, more concerned about avoiding the curse of over-endowment than we are about ensuring that we pass on enough money to meet all your and/or your children’s needs, whatever they may be. We think it is good that you work—and that you know you must work—to create your own legacy for your descendants.

With these thoughts in mind, then, we have determined to give you what we have already given you: education without debt through the bachelor’s degree, a first (modest) car, and $_____—enough money to pay for the downpayment on a slightly better-than-average American home. All of these things, together, give you tremendous advantages in life, far more than the average American, much less the vast majority of the world’s population.

Beyond these things, however, we have also decided to give you $______—over ____ years’ worth of full-time wages for the average American—to be held within a trust whose investment choices will be completely up to you and the investment counselor(s) of your choice, but whose corpus will be available only for certain narrowly-specified purposes—including such things as business development, education, and health needs—upon approval of the trustee.

. . . To Others

As we have indicated above, we believe we have a responsibility to live as stewards of God’s blessings and conduits of those blessings to the world. We believe it is an ancient principle, long predating “the Law” of the Old Testament, that we should give a minimum of 10%, or tithe, as a kind of tribute to God. While our income came primarily in the form of wages, we gave that 10% primarily to our local church.

However, as Sonlight began to become profitable, we realized 10% would swamp the church—almost assuredly a bad idea for the church, and, potentially, for us as well. So we continued to give a tithe of our wages to the church, but the remainder to other causes.

We recognize a broad range of charitable purposes in which a Christian may feel justifiably pleased to participate. As Alan Gotthard outlines in his book, The Eternity Portfolio, Scripture clearly addresses a range of ministries within what we might call evangelism (outreach), discipleship (teaching/training), and mercy (physical relief and development) ministries.

Having worked at the U.S. Center for World Mission long before we ever gained a significant quantity of wealth, we had acquired the perspective taught by the Center that the world’s least evangelized peoples (the most spiritually needy) also represent the most physically needy.

Believing as we do, based even on our own experience, that material wealth usually follows intellectual and spiritual renewal, we decided, long ago, to give mostly to charities that focus primarily on evangelism and discipleship rather than mercy ministries.

Several other considerations have similarly shaped our philosophy of giving.

St. Paul said he tried to preach the gospel where Christ had not already been named (Romans 15:20). We have determined, similarly, that we want to focus on those areas where the need is greatest.

Strangely, those areas are also one in which the world’s (and Christians’!) attention is weakest.

And so, knowing that 99.5% of all American Christian charity goes to meet the needs of those who already have access to the gospel, we have determined to focus our giving on the 40% of the world’s population that is currently virtually beyond gospel witness.

Put more succinctly: we have dedicated ourselves to focus our attention as much as practicable outside the United States upon the “unreached peoples,” and especially ministries that focus on the five mega-groups among the unreached as expressed in the acronym THUMB: Tribals, Hindus, Unreached Chinese, Muslims, and Buddhists.

Perhaps because of our background in business and, more especially, because of our background in basic education, we have also found ourselves particularly drawn to fund charities that emphasize an educational approach to evangelism and discipleship. And, more than the average donor, to fund projects that have to do with infrastructure. Thus, especially as our income has increased, we have begun to give large gifts toward projects that include the acquisition of a large printing press, an airplane, a headquarters building, and so forth.

Beyond this primary focus on evangelism and discipleship ministries, we—particularly as a result of John’s interests—have also given and expect in the future to give to charities having to do with justice in the public sphere: ministries focused on right-to-life, human rights, and legal challenges.

As our income has risen beyond our needs to meet basic living requirements and, eventually, even beyond our needs to meet business requirements, we have been pleased to increase our charitable contributions to all the causes we have outlined here, but especially to international mission endeavors among the unreached peoples.

******

Two more comments, and then it’s time to quit.

Several years ago, we found ourselves overwhelmed by appeals from dozens of charitable organizations. All of them at least loosely met our general focus. But we determined to narrow our focus and give to a maximum of five organizations, one organize apiece as a proxy for each of the five primary unreached mega-groups. This focus, we have found, has enabled us to engage far more strategically with the leaders of organizations and to help cross-fertilize them with the best ideas and practices that we learn from others. It has also opened doors to participating on these agencies’ boards of directors—a form of service that we take seriously, and yet with joy.

It is our desire to maintain this kind of high-level involvement with just a handful of charities.

Finally. We understand the meaning of social capital and our obligation to contribute a portion of our social capital to the U.S. government in order to help pay for some of the benefits we receive from living as native-born Americans in our place of birth. We understand that U.S. law is designed to acquire some of these funds through gift and estate taxes. We also understand, however, that with proper legal and strategic planning, the law permits us to self-direct potentially all of our social capital—not to the federal government, but instead to worthwhile ministries and to causes that we genuinely care about.

As U.S. Circuit Court Judge Learned Hand once famously noted, “Any one may so arrange his affairs that his taxes shall be as low as possible; he is not bound to choose that pattern which will best pay the Treasury; there is not even a patriotic duty to increase one’s taxes” (Helvering v. Gregory, 69 F.2d 809, 810-11 (2d Cir. 1934)).

With Hand’s aphorism firmly in mind, it is our desire that, to the extent possible, our Master Stewardship Plan should eliminate unnecessary taxes in order to help us increase our ability to support the ministries and charitable causes we most care about. Of course, this goal is to be achieved without diminishing what we perceive as our responsibilities to one another and to you, our children.

Summary

This, what we have outlined here, expresses our general desire in the area of physical, mental and spiritual legacy. We expect to fine-tune our plans in the weeks, months, and years ahead as we continue to develop our family’s Master Stewardship Plan.

While we have searched for godly counsel and wisdom from outside sources, it is our desire to include you, too—our children—in all discussions concerning these matters. It is also our desire to help prepare you to make wise choices so you can take hold of whatever opportunities the outworkings of our plan may grant you and, ultimately, your descendants.