Quiet

There's something magical about staying up at night, enjoying the sound of silence, while everyone else around me sleeps.  It's even more special on beautiful fall evenings when the temperature is so perfect that there's no whirring of air conditioning running and it's not cold enough to turn on the heat.  Fall is that way, quiet and magical.  I don't know how anyone would enjoy any other season more.

In an effort to dig into the season that I hold in such high regard, I resolved to step away from the clutches of social media in October.  I can't honestly say I'm coming running back to it.  Sure, I logged in to make sure I didn't miss things like announcements about neighborhood yard sales (oh wait, still managed to miss those), happenings in our homeschool co-op, and my local news headlines.  What I needed a step back from was the noise - whether in the form of the insta-awesomeness of everyone I "know", the passionately charged, election-season political opinions of acquaintances from high school, the comments sections of literally everything, the time-wasting Tasty & Nifty videos, the funny memes, just all of it.  I have no willpower.  I can't just look a little.  If I give myself access to it, 2 hours later, I'm taking a quiz to find out what my favorite bread says about my personality and trying to solve the mystery of how two people I know from two different states and stages of life know each other.  It's like the bag of Halloween candy that remains untouched if I don't break the seal, but if it's open, I can't stop myself.  Inevitably though, even small interactions with social media cause my blood pressure to rise, and I get sad and wonder to myself, "Is this really what we've become?"

It behooves me to turn the sound down. It's not just an ostrich-with-her-head-in-the-sand kind of thing.  Literally, good things happen when I step away from the computer/phone screen.  I had this nostalgic thought that maybe I could not know every opinion and life happening of every person I encountered.  I could wonder about people instead of coming into interactions with a pre-conceived notion developed through the lens of social media.  Maybe, I could just get to know people through conversation.  Maybe it would be awkward (because that's my specialty), but it would be true.  Maybe I don't need everyone to know what happens in my life at 10:20am on a random Tuesday.

I started this year out with "Brave" as my 2018 theme.  I'm not abandoning that, but I'm tacking on another word for the final three months, and that word is "Quiet."  There is so much value in turning down the noise.  It's a little gift I'm giving myself.

Who cares? Well, apparently, me.

Sam is an engineering project manager.  His job is to oversee the execution of a project from start to finish and ensure that it is completed in a timely, effective manner.  In my opinion, a large part of what makes a person a successful project manager is not only their ability to troubleshoot problems as they arise, but to anticipate what might go wrong in advance and have a solution at the ready in case it does.  Sam is great at what he does. 

If you juxtapose Sam's ability to solve problems against my ability to anticipate the worst case scenario in every facet of life, you might say we're a perfect pair.  

Sam booked the tickets for our imminent European adventure on May 13th.  It is now August 14th which means I have had exactly three months to worry about every possible thing that could go wrong.  What this also means is that Sam has spent every spare moment in the past three months anticipating problems and creating preemptive solutions for all things European/travel related.  The other night, I stayed up late fretting and listing my concerns in my head and rather than physically writing them on a piece of paper so I wouldn't have to carry them around in my brain (an exercise I affectionately refer to as a "data dump"), I remembered to pray about them (if I'm honest, my inclination is to worry first, pray later).  When I woke up, 2 Timothy 1:7 came to mind:

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of sound mind.

 As a special added bonus, God has also given me Sam.

I told him that morning that I was going to voice my fears to him about the trip with the hope that we'd talk through how silly they were or how we'd deal with them if they arose.  I hoped we'd do more of the latter than the former.  Knowing many of my concerns were rooted in how other people would be affected, I wholeheartedly expected Sam to meet them with "Who cares?"  If there's another thing Sam is really good at, it's not worrying what other people think.  For me, it's as much a part of my routine as making sure I shower daily.  Later that day, we took a walk and thus began the therapy session conversation.  I suspect Sam felt like he was an unwitting participant in this game:

Nevertheless, he humored me.

What if Zachary cries for the entire 8 hour flight?  He won't.  We can walk him up and down the aisles.  We can make him room to walk around in our row.  He'll probably sleep some.  Airplanes are loud.  He likes white noise.  
What if our kids are terrible in a foreign restaurant?  What if we don't know what or how to order?  We just won't go to restaurants.  We'll cook our own food or buy street food.
What if someone gets hurt?  What if I get a kidney stone?  What if someone breaks a limb?  We aren't going to a third world country.  We'll just go to a hospital and get taken care of.  Our health insurance covers us.
What if our phones don't work?  We'll go to the store at the train station and buy prepaid ones.
What if we get separated on the train?  Like, you and half our kids are on the train and I'm left in a foreign city with half our family and I don't know how to speak the language and I don't know how to get in touch with you and I just sit down and cry because I don't know how to find you?  That won't happen.  But if it does, all train stations have wi-fi.  You can get in touch with me no matter what.  You can get a new ticket for the next available train or rent a car and drive to us.  
What if someone steals our passports?  I made copies.  We take them to the US Embassy and they'll make us new ones on the spot.
What if one of our Airbnb reservations is canceled upon arrival and we don't have a place to stay?  If there's a train station, there are hotels.  We will find a place to stay.  I also have Marriott points to redeem, if we can find one of those.
What if I have a headache the whole time because coffee isn't as readily available there?  Literally every place we're staying has a coffeemaker.  PHEW!

There were more, both that he answered and that I forgot to ask.  I think you get the point.  Some people have contributed to my list of fears without realizing it by posing their own concerns and voicing warnings to me, to which I can now say, "Bring it! I have Sam and he has the answer."

To his credit, he did not say "Who cares?" one single time.

My biggest unvoiced concern is "What if people are rude to us?"  The answer to that truly is "Who cares?"  But also, "How would I know?"  I can understand a very tiny bit of German, can speak even less.  And other than that, I know virtually no French and absolutely no Dutch, Swedish, or Danish.  They can say whatever they'd like to or about us and I can remain in blissful ignorance.

Maybe we're a little crazy to take a trip like this, but with each passing year, it becomes increasingly more important to me that "someday" doesn't turn into "never" or "we missed our chance."  We want to see the world, to take our kids out of their bubbles, get me out of my comfort zone, try new things.  What are we waiting for?  Nothing.

If you would, please pray for our safety and sanity as we trek to Europe.  Please pray that the only reason we would stand out is as a light, whether here or there.  Also, pray that I don't gain back an unwanted 20 pounds in chocolate, bread, and frites.

A literal foreign land full of history, culture, food, and people awaits.

Telling myself I'm awkward. And stopping that.

I have had a lot of awkward conversations in my lifetime.  You might say I'm particularly gifted at them.  When I walk away from one of these encounters, I typically assume the fault was on me, like 100% of the time.  Under very few circumstances do I leave and think, "Man, that other person was super weird and hard to talk to."  On the contrary, I carry on with life, rehashing the strange, possibly offensive, confusing words of chit-chat I attempted to contribute, telling myself that someday I won't be so goofy and uncomfortable.  If there's one thing I can do well, it's own my awkwardness.  I do give myself a little credit for trying.  If you knew me 20 years ago, you'd probably think I've come a long way.  Credit where credit is due.

What I didn't realize is that other people do this too.

A few days ago a sweet friend came up to me and said, "I'm sorry I was so awkward when we talked last night.  I thought about it all night."

I was taken aback.  I didn't think the exchange was awkward at all.  In fact, I had thought nothing about it after I left.  I assured her nothing about it was odd in the slightest and confidently declared that if it was awkward, I accepted sole responsibility.  I wish she hadn't worried about it at all.  I hated that she spent even a moment thinking about it on my account.

And that's when I realized that this is exactly what I do.  How many times have I replayed what I presumed to be awkward for hours on end, fretting about what I could have said instead or maybe not at all, worried the other person was upset or thought less or differently of me because of it.

Only, that other person?  They didn't think about it.  At all.

You may have heard it said, "You probably wouldn’t worry about what people think of you if you could know how seldom they do!" — Olin Miller

I never really believed that until the aforementioned conversation.

Sometimes people don't believe I'm an introvert (hahahaha!).  Sometimes, people tell me they don't think I'm awkward (that's really kind of you, thanks).  I don't think that introversion is a bad thing that needs to be fixed, nor do I think we're all meant to be public orators or the life of the party.  Thank God he created us to be unique.  I am a big fan of the fake-it-till-you-make-it philosophy though.  Sometimes, you have to be cordial to strangers and engage in nominal conversations, clunky as it may be.  A few things are possible: it was not as awkward to them as it seemed to you, they thought it was awkward too but assumed they were responsible, or they literally thought nothing of it and carried on with life.  None of those are worth losing sleep over, right?

I have an idea.  Let's be as generous with ourselves as we are with other people.  This is a little corollary to the Golden Rule.  Of course, we should treat others the way we want to be treated, but sometimes I think we speak so unkindly to ourselves that we start to believe that we're....whatever we say we are.  Maybe you tell yourself you're awkward.  Maybe it's something else altogether.  Slow-witted, disorganized, too fat, lazy, un-athletic, boring, a terrible cook, fill-in-the-blank with your own personal brand of self-deprecation.  Then, stop saying it.  Seriously, stop it.

Speak kindly to yourself.  You are always listening.

This means I'm TOTALLY NOT GOING TO THINK ANY MORE ABOUT how I exhaled Twix cookie crumbs all over our precious church preschool director this morning because I giggled (naturally) mid-bite.  Surely she didn't think that was as awkward as I did.  Right?  RIGHT?  Right.  Definitely.

Simple Pleasures - The Power of Perspective

Twelve years ago when we moved into this home, I was a fledgling civil engineer working primarily in the realm of stormwater conveyance.  It was my job to design new construction projects to drain away from the buildings to an inlet or pond.  Getting rid of stormwater water was kind of my "thing."  After the first rainfall at our new house, I was less than excited to find out that the curb and gutter had been constructed so that the low point was not at inlet, but rather, across the entire length of our property in the road.  Translation: Every single time it rains, we have standing water in front of our house.  I'll be the first to admit that in the grand scheme of life this is not a major problem, but it was a regular annoyance.  Each time the rain fell and I saw that property-long puddle in the front of my house I'd shake my head and grumble about the irony of a faulty conveyance system in front of the home of a civil engineer. (Grumbling is my default setting.)

I love that God is so sweet to soften our hearts on things.  Sometimes all it takes is a solitary experience.  Other times it happens little by little after years and years.  Regardless of how I got there, I find myself looking at that water through different lenses now.  Beginning with the firstborn on a tricycle making his way through the river to yesterday with the whole crew of rowdies enjoying a rainy jaunt with countless other water play moments in between, I see it as an opportunity to be a fun-loving child in a world that would have them grow up way too fast. 

Maybe there's hope I won't end up a grumpy curmudgeon in the long run.  If so, I owe it, in part, to these smiles and some faulty construction.  Training myself to see the opportunity instead of the obstacles is not a natural tendency for me, but blessings abound when we let God change our hearts.

I challenge you to look for unlikely blessings today.

The Butt of SO MANY Jokes

I like to laugh as much as the next gal.  Probably more.  In fact, my laugh usually precedes me.  People hear me coming.  I don't even realize I'm doing it, but I laugh so obnoxiously, people will poke their heads out of doors and see me in the hallway and offer a quip like, "I thought I heard your laugh!"  I think that will probably be one of the things on my tombstone.

She was always laughing.  Even when she shouldn't have been.

Here's a list of reasons I laugh:

I'm nervous.

I don't know how to respond.

I can't hear what the other person said.

I remembered something from 1994 that was even a little bit funny.

My kids have just said something ridiculous.

To keep from crying.

My mom.  She gives us a lot of material.  (Bless her heart.)

A situation in real life reminds me of a Seinfeld or Friends episode.

I do something embarrassing, like pour coffee in my lap and have to walk around like I just wet my pants.

I just watched a Geico commercial. (They get me every time.  This one on the World Cup is the cause of my most recent giggles.)

I do something that reminds me of my mother.

I read a clever pun or joke.

The guy passing the communion wafers hit the tray on the corner of the pew and spilled some on the ground.

I think about a situation that was once stressful, but that retrospect has turned hilarious.

And the list goes on.

So, really, all of this is to build my case that I love to laugh.  (And smile.  But that's probably another whole blog post.)  Not to be cliche, but laughter, in my opinion, truly is one of the best medicines.  

With that being said, it might surprise you to learn that as much as I love to laugh, sometimes it gets exhausting being the punchline to so very many jokes.  Apparently, it is open season on large families who homeschool and drive gigantic vans.  I guess we're just asking for it.  (Except, we aren't really.  I never asked.  I really, truly, would love to just blend into the background like the rest of the world.)  When we go places, I have to give myself a big pep talk beforehand.  "Alright, Jennie, this is it.  You know who's going to be there.  You know which ones are going to think they're hilarious and make the same, tired jokes at your expense.  Smile and nod.  You can do this!"

Most of the time, I can take it.  Sometimes, Sam and I even try to beat people to the punch.  We know the jokes are coming, so we make fun of ourselves first.  "Haha!  We have seven kids!  That's CRAZY!"  Other times, though, maybe when I'm tired or over it, a serial comedian makes one of the same jokes we've heard a million times on the heels of half a dozen other comments, and despite my best efforts, I'm unable to control the eye roll.  If you've been a victim of this, I would like to apologize.  It's not you, it's me.  (Maybe a little bit you, too.)

I don't want to be the person offended by every little thing.  I truly don't.  But the family size thing is starting to wear me down.  I'm going to get serious for a quick minute.  Then I promise to go back to giggling.  

The reason we have so many kids is because God has given them to us.  Well, actually, he's allowed us to be the ones who have the privilege of shepherding them (no pun intended).  They're on loan.  Each of these kids are His.  While we're on the subject, so are everyone else's.  We are just like every single other family.  Whether you have one kid or seven kids or any number in between (or higher), we're just parents doing our best.  We consider them to be the blessing that God tells us they are.  My canned response to people's shock is - "I wouldn't return any of them."  We look at parenting as one of our greatest priorities.  Our intention is to point these kids to Christ.  That is our prayer.  Our end goal.  I don't expect everyone to understand, but I do sincerely hope that our church family *gets* that our heart's desire is to raise a whole household full of Jesus-loving humans who will go and change the world.  There can't be too many of those, right?

I've had one kid, two kids, three kids, etc.  I have been a parent while being a full-time student, work-out-of-the-home mom, work-at-home mom, and stay-at-home mom.  I've breastfed and bottle fed.  I've public-schooled and home-schooled.  I've parented newborns, toddlers, preschoolers, grade-schoolers, tweens, and teens.  Guess what?  IT'S ALL HARD.  Things worth doing usually are.  In the end, it's worth every hard day, hour, and minute in between.  My convictions about children are strong and serious.  They are not a joke to me, and neither are my kids themselves. (Unless they say something funny, obviously.)

I did not set out to have seven children.  I also did not plan to go to college in the South, live in Georgia, give up my career, or homeschool.  I love that God takes our sub-standard plans, crumples them up like a rough-draft, and writes a much better story.  I love that I get to look back and laugh at how cute my plans were.  

Laughter is a theme in our home.  Come over and laugh with us.  I'll try to keep the eye-rolling to a minimum.

Edited to add the following disclaimer (it's what I do):  If you're reading this, it probably does not apply to you.  I'm literally just venting.  Please don't stop being my friend.

The Woman at the Post Office

On May 11th, a friend sent me a Facebook message detailing a promotion by Scandinavian airlines where up to eight children could fly free with each adult ticket purchased.  I looked at it, chuckled to myself, and closed it.  The promotion expired on May 13th, and in those 2 days we had soccer games, a birthday party to host, Sarah's actual birthday, and Mother's Day, not that I was even considering it.  While my adventurous husband does like to plan wild and crazy "field trips" for our herd, this seemed like too much.  Even for him.  Through the events of the weekend, I didn't give it another thought.

Then, as we settled in for our Sunday afternoon rest time, he casually mentioned, "I think we should book the tickets."  After I picked my jaw up off the floor, we weighed the pros and cons.  Long story short, we booked the tickets for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

That's the beginning of the story that will end up being our European Adventure of 2018.  

With a momentous decision like "taking a family of nine to a different continent" comes a lot of planning, not the least of which includes upgrading the family passport cards for land and sea travel to passport books for air travel.  It took a few days to fill out the forms, take the photos, and get to the post office, but we got it all accomplished in about a week.  Yesterday, we took the entire family for our appointment to prove we are who we say we are live and in person.  We got situated in the "waiting area" in the center of the post office replete with two whole chairs, the entire family on display for the world to see.  I was sweating (because that's what my body does when I'm stressed out at all times).  It was already going better than the last time we went for passport cards and Noah peed in the middle of the floor.  The kids were mostly sitting still, mostly being quiet, and Ben had the foresight to bring the Switch for the kids to play a game of Mario Kart while they waited.  One of the postal workers looked at me and said, "Those all your babies?"  I confirmed the fact, and she replied, "That's great.  Large families are great."  Phew.  

We awaited our turn to go into the separate [less conspicuous] passport room for several minutes beyond our allotted time, when a customer approached us.  She commented on the kids, that we were a beautiful family.  (PSA - "You have a beautiful family" is *always* an okay statement to make.  To any family.  You should say this to everyone you see.  It's the nicest possible compliment.)  She told us she has worked with children for decades.  She didn't say exactly in what capacity, but mentioned books and reading to them.  She told us that she got to enjoy many firsts with kids and wished their own parents would have relished in those times as much as she did.  Her whole body and all of her language exuded joy in her work.  It was precious.  She told us she never had kids of her own, to which Sam replied, "Sure you did!  A whole bunch of them."  She loved it and replied, "Yeah, I guess about 1500 of them."  As she looked over our family she told us that she reminded the parents often that the kids did not really belong to them, they were God's children in their care.  What a mighty calling and blessing to be responsible for souls.  We nodded in wholehearted agreement.  At this, she paused and asked if we were there for passports (a logical conclusion, I suppose, since most people probably don't bring their kids to the middle of the post office and hang out for fun).  We said yes.  She inquired where we were traveling, and Sam answered, "Europe."  Upon hearing this, she looked us straight in the eye and said, "Y'all are believers?  Can I pray for you?"  

And right there in the middle of the Russell Parkway Post Office, this woman prayed blessings over our family and our upcoming travels.  She prayed for our safety.  She prayed that people would notice us and that we would be an encouragement to them.  She prayed that we would find a way to share Jesus with those we encountered.  

That's how it came to pass that I shed tears (not surprising) and hugged a stranger (totally shocking) in the passport line.

Seconds after her "Amen" our name was called, and I thank the Lord the postal worker was running a few minutes late or we would have missed meeting this beautiful soul.  With a "Bless you, sister" she carried on her own post office business at the counter, and it hit me so hard.  

She is my sister.  And this is how we should love each other.  

She might never know how much that meant to me.  God is already relieving me of my fears surrounding the trip.  Prayer is powerful.  And I pray the same things she did.  Mostly, even before we leave, that our lives, in word and deed, will be an encouragement and witness to those we encounter.

I also pray that when the Spirit moves me, I will capitalize on the opportunities to encourage and pray for the people around me.  Even the strangers.  Despite my introversion.  Because you know, I may not be the most gregarious person on the planet, but God can use anyone.  

And because I can't even stand how cute this is, here's one of Zachary's rejected passport photos.  He was having way too good of a time.  It doesn't quite meet the criterion for "neutral facial expression."

Dreaming

This post was written as a contribution to the Central Baptist Church website. I am copying it here.
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I'm a dreamer.  I don't necessarily dream when I'm asleep, but when I'm mowing the grass or taking a shower or trying to settle down for the night, my brain kick-starts and I dream up lots of big ideas.  I call myself a dreamer because I'm not always the best at implementing these big ideas, but I do enjoy tossing them back and forth in my brain.  I dream of ministries I could start up, places our family could travel, ways to improve my home organization, blog posts I could write, or what I might want to be when I "grow up."  Then, I put the lawnmower away, walk out of the bathroom, or roll out of bed the next morning, and it's back to reality.

Sometimes when I'm caught up in the daily grind of life, I find myself wistfully preoccupied with "someday."

Someday life won't be so fragmented, and I'll be able to concentrate on writing.
Someday life won't be so busy, and I'll be able to pour myself into meeting the physical and spiritual needs of my neighbors in big, tangible ways.
Someday life won't feel so chaotic, and I'll be able to get organized and finally be able to accomplish  tasks efficiently.

What I have to remind myself is that I'm not guaranteed someday.  These fragmented, busy, chaotic, noisy moments are precious.  They are a gift.  I need to utilize them to the fullest.  Maybe the daily grind doesn't feel glamorous.  Maybe my current calling won't make headlines.  Maybe humble, small gestures aren't just the starting point, they're the whole point.

"Jesus said it wouldn't be what we said we believed or all the good we hoped to do someday. Nope, He said we would identify ourselves simply by how we loved people.  It's tempting to think there's more to it, but there's not." -Bob Goff

Maybe it's just me, but in my desire to make some sort of  big splash for the kingdom of God, I find myself missing the little opportunities that can add up in big ways. I forget that life is made up of countless moments in which we can minister.  In his earthly ministry, Jesus did some amazing miracles, yes, but you know what he also did?  He noticed when someone touched his robe.  He sat for a chat with the social outcast.  He had a lot of conversations over shared meals.  He welcomed the children.

Instead of waiting and hoping to do something big someday, I am challenging myself to do what I can, today.  

"There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord, but few of us are willing to do little things." - DL Moody

Someday I might go on mission in a foreign country, telling others about Jesus as I go.  Someday I might decide to pursue some great and noble career.  But right now, I will practice what we preach to our Girls in Action on Wednesday nights.  I will live a life on mission.  I will love my neighbor right where I am.  I will praise Him at my kitchen sink.  I will teach my kids about the love of the Father.  I will exemplify my need for forgiveness by asking for it when I wrong my family and friends.  I will send notes of encouragement when God leads.

Life is made up of moments.  Let's make them count.

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. Colossians 3:17

Children in a Broken World

This post was written as a contribution to the Central Baptist Church website. I am copying it here.
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Sam and I have seven children. Because this is an atypically large number, I usually try to present this information right up front to people. It’s not as if I can keep them a secret. A family of nine simply does not sneak around or easily blend into the crowd. As one who prefers anonymity, it has become abundantly clear that it is God’s plan to stretch the limits of my tiny comfort zone by growing our family.

Having a large family opens us up to a variety of friendly inquiries. Typically, we are asked how big our house is, where all of the kids sleep, what kind of vehicle we drive, whether we are going to have more, and sometimes –

“Aren’t you afraid to bring more children into this broken world?”

Honestly, despite my inclination to worry unnecessarily, this particular concern is not on the list.

If the Bible were our only history book, we could see that this world has had a brokenness problem since the beginning of mankind. Since the serpent asked Eve, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?’” we have been under the curse of sin. One must look no further than Genesis to find accounts of deception, murder, natural disasters, marital infidelity, famine, slavery, genocide, plagues, and war to name only a few. The thousands of years following the first encounter in the garden have been a repeating loop of consequences from living in a sinful world. Solomon said it best in Ecclesiastes 1:9: “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” We should not be surprised that sin and evil exist in our world. God, though surely grieved by it, is also not surprised. The good news is that He does not leave us without hope.

The good news is that as a follower of Christ, I have been given power through the Holy Spirit to combat the sinfulness of this world. I have been given God’s Word as a weapon, a sword of the Spirit. When all else feels bleak and dark, I have God’s Word as a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. If I teach these words diligently to my children, if they write God’s Words onto their hearts, they will be ready to face whatever this world can hurl at them. It is my privilege to be raising arrows ready to launch into this world, as speakers of truth. It is my job to equip them to fight the battle by pointing them to the Word.

Worrying about the world our children face is evidence of a lack of faith and an indication that we do not trust that God is in control. I choose to trust God with the future of my children, and the future of our country and world. I will make it my primary goal to point my children to Jesus at every turn, to teach them that in spite of our sin and because of His grace, we have every hope in Christ. During this season of life, my primary mission field is my family, and I pray that God would multiply His kingdom through us. I pray that in the uncertain future that God holds in His hands, He would use each of my children in mighty ways to bring glory and souls to Him.

So, to answer the question, no. I’m not afraid to bring children into this broken world. Quite the opposite, I’m honored to have the huge privilege and responsibility to raise kingdom warriors. I think that is precisely what this world needs.

Servant Leadership

One of my favorite accounts of Jesus in the Bible is when he washed the feet of his disciples.  I don't love feet.  I think they're gross.  Also, I know just what my feet look (and smell) like after a day of bare-footing around my less-than-sparkly home and flip-flopping around the yard and all over town here in central Georgia.  I can imagine pretty well that the sandals-wearing, desert-walking disciples' feet weren't looking or smelling so hot either.  Nevertheless, Jesus, God incarnate, in an act of service and humility, stooped down to wash the dust and day off his friends' feet.

Why?  

Because He didn't just want to tell us what to do, he wanted to show us.

You call me "Teacher" and "Lord," and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet.  I have set an example that you should do as I have done for you. John 13:13-15

When I think of Jesus, the ultimate authority, acting in the humblest service, I cannot help but think of the amazing staff families at my church.  Over the past couple of years, we have been blessed with the most sacrificial, serving men and women, and I just want to brag on them.  They are the epitome of servant leaders.  They saw what Jesus did and the follow his example day in and day out.  Not one of them is too important or above serving their church family.  It's an honor to do life with them.

How do these men and women love with servant's hearts?  Let me list some ways.

-They've helped us carry dinner trays on Wednesday nights when my children grossly outnumber the number of parental hands available.
-They've carried our trash and helped strip down tables after events.
- They carry bundles of walking sticks intended for a VBS craft on their shoulders in a long sleeved-collared shirt on a hundred degree day.
- They rushed to the aid of a young teen who slipped in a puddle of water, cleaning up her spilled tray before she even had the chance to be embarrassed.
-They've offered to babysit, so we could go on a date night or take the big kids somewhere.
-They have offered to take children home from sports practices.
-They go out of their way and make a point to say hello.
-They encouraged me in the parking lot after voicing fears on Facebook.
-They brought me food when I had a baby.
-They hung out with me in the ER for far too long as we awaited test results.
-They offered to sit with my kids at home while we waited in the ER for far too long.
-Though surely taxed by other areas of ministry, they still find time to lead the childrens' choir.
-They snuggle babies while presiding over a deacons meeting.  And any other time they can get their hands on one.
-They teach their children to find ways to serve others, like holding our baby while we eat dinner or warch our bigger kids play basketball.
-They show up at the hospital to pray over my babies, sometimes praying over the delivery - like during the delivery.
-They have made countless phone calls, sent texts, and written notes.

These are just a few I thought of, off the top of my head with very little effort.  Now realize that I represent just one of hundreds of families in our church.  I suspect each one can name a time they witnessed or were personally blessed by the leadership in our church family.

The final example requires a bit of a back story, but it's one of my favorites.  Last soccer season, Sam coached a group of Pre-K and kindergarten girls.  At the same time, we had three other kids playing so Saturdays were pretty hectic.  When it came time for the end of the year celebration, Sam had to travel for work.  It's generally expected that coaches show up to these things, so I was the next in line to serve as substitute.  This event so happened to occur the night Leah was fitted with a full-arm cast.  In addition to the Sam being gone and Leah's arm being broken, I was stressed to the max because we were leaving the next morning to take a trip to Maryland, and I was beyond overwhelmed at how to be in four places at one time for the after-ceremony pizza party.  Each team had a designated room in the Family Life Center in which they'd hang out one final time and eat some pizza.  When we arrived before the awards to drop off our supplementary snacks, I expected to find my kids' rooms scattered on different floors and in opposite corners of the building.  (That's what I do.)   What I discovered was that the gym also had tables set up.  I found the first team on the back wall.  I took a few steps further to the next table, which belonged to my second child.  As I proceeded down the wall, I started to wonder if it was just a cool coincidence that they were together.  Then I reached the third.  And finally the fourth.  All four of my childrens' team tables were on the back wall.  With dozens of teams, it couldn't have been accidental.  Our precious recreation minister had orchestrated the pizza party so that parents with multiple children celebrated in the gym.  Because he's amazing.  I almost cried right there.  (I did cry, later on.)  It was such a sweet, sweet gesture.  He did not have to do that, but it meant the world to me that he had.

Guys, these folks are TOP NOTCH people.  They exemplify Christ. With love like this flowing down, I cannot help but get excited about what God is going to do at Central Baptist Church.  You should join us!  

Punching Fear in the Face

Several years ago, I was driving with the kids.  The road we were on wasn't a busy one, and I can't remember where we were going or why.  What I do remember is that we were, of course, stuck behind a car that was obviously not on a schedule.  Maybe it's because I'm always late, but cars out for a Sunday cruise in the middle of a week frustrate me to no end, especially when they're traveling under the speed limit (or as I like to think of it - "the minimum speed").  It was a rural area, one lane in each direction, and the road had a dotted stripe down the middle.  I kept easing toward the center line to peek around the car in front of me, and every time I considered passing, I opted not to.

That's when Ben chimed in with something to the effect of, "If Daddy were driving, he'd have passed already.  He's not scared."

Offended, I retorted.  "I'm not scared!"

"Yes, you are.  You're afraid of everything."

I eventually passed the car.  But not without a lot of internal huffing and puffing at the suggestion that I was afraid.  Of everything.

I'm hardly a psychologist, and I cannot speak to the validity of the claims made in a Pixar movie.  Nevertheless, I think there must be something right about Inside Out.  For me, instead of a dominant personality trait, I have two duking it out for the head seat.  Anyone want to guess which two?  A year or two ago, I wrote a blog post detailing my propensity to get angry.  That's still true, but after several eye-opening conversations, a little soul-searching, and, actually, an enneagram personality test, it has become abundantly clear that I'm afraid of just about everything.

A few weeks ago, determined to create better habits for myself and our family, we took a little walk around the neighborhood to a nearby playground.  We don't have sidewalks, and the main road through our neighborhood is used as a cut-through for several adjacent housing developments.  Knowing that all routes from our house require passage on this street has stopped me from doing any kind of exercising with the entire herd.  I sabotage my healthier habits with fear.

"What if that crazy black Camaro hits one of the kids?"
"What if Leah veers to the middle of the road on her bike?"
"What if someone falls out of the wagon?"
"What if Zachary starts screaming at the farthest point from our house?"
"What if someone falls?"
"What if we really hug the corners and walk against traffic and we still get plowed down by a distracted driver?"
"What if we get 0.1 mile into the walk and everyone starts complaining?"
"What if someone robs our house while we're gone?"
"What if it starts raining?"

Literally.  These were my thoughts.

At the beginning of 2018, I made a decision to be Brave.  It doesn't seem like I've made much progress, does it?

As you can probably imagine, we survived the walk.  Everyone got 1.7 miles of fresh air and exercise.  No one was injured.  Our home was untouched.  The weather was gorgeous.  And I thought to myself, what in the world would I have robbed myself of if I'd given in to my fears?  (Answer: 1.7 miles of fresh air and exercise with the family on a gorgeous day.)

A similar situation arose this past weekend where I had the opportunity to spend a Sunday afternoon with the families in our Sunday School Life Group.  One of the couples organized a low country boil, and I never responded knowing that Sam would be traveling for work and that left me alone to deal with seven kids. Near a pond. In an uncontained area During naptime. Trying to peel shrimp. "No way!" I told myself.  Then, Saturday morning, I thought about how fun the last time was that we'd done it, and how my kids would be so sad if they knew we missed out, and how if I can't take my circus to a picnic with my dearest friends to help me, where can I take them?  I made an apologetic, last-minute text message, stopped at the store to grab a few picnic essentials, and we were ready to roll.

Would I rather Sam have been there?  Absolutely.  Did we have a great time in spite of me?  Yes.  Would I have regretted missing it?  Without a doubt.

Thinking over the events of Sunday afternoon, which far surpassed my grave expectations, I took a mental inventory of the times in my life where I was most terrified and contrasted the fear to the outcome.

Moving from Maryland to Georgia to go to college
Getting married at 19
Raising a baby while finishing my degree
Presenting my senior design project
Finding a job
Sitting for the PE
Losing my job and not being able to find another
Homeschooling
Growing our family
Traveling the country with 4, 5, 6, now 7 kids

Can I tell you something?  Fear is a punk.  It doesn't matter what we are facing, God is faithful to see us through it.  I couldn't tell you what of my fears are rational, how much of my anxiety is normal.  I only know I spend too much time fretting about things beyond my control and not enough time giving it over to the One who wants to bear the burden for me.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your mind in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me.  He freed me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4

When I reach the end of me, that's when God shows up and shows off.  I'm so grateful for the gift of retrospect so I can see God's unfailing work in my life.  My current prayer is that instead of looking back to see what He has done, that I will trust him when my fears try to prevent me from living life, before I see what He's going to do.

Let's face it, if I'm not the one taking my kids to a low country boil, who else is going to?