Why Are You Afraid?

Most of the time being a life-long cynic means I am pleasantly surprised when things don't turn out as badly as the doomsday scenarios my mind has become so adept at conjuring up.

But sometimes, those worst case scenarios actually happen.  And I sigh and say, "See.  Told you.  The whole world is stupid.  Now leave me alone so I can cry in the shower."

I will admit that crying in the shower doesn't do much actual good.  But patterns bear repeating.  Hot showers and tears are as cathartic as a cup of coffee and a bag of Twizzlers.  Because eating when you're sad or stressed is totally healthy too.  

I waver between caring way too much about everything and throwing my hands up in the air and saying to heck with it all.  I can't decide whether to educate myself more or bury my head in the sand and pretend I'm an ostrich.  I think, "But one person can make a huge difference in this world."  Then I turn in an instant and wonder, "But honestly, what can one person really do?"  My mind is a jumbled mess of incoherent trains of thought and then, suddenly (and usually briefly), moments of clarity.

And he said to them, "Why are you afraid?  O you of little faith!"  Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea and there was a great calm.  -Matthew 8:26

That's me.  The one of little faith.

Why am I fearful?  Because I make it about me.  I think I'm the one who has to control everything.  Spoiler alert:  It's not about me.

Instead of fretting and worrying and agonizing, I need to trust that the God of the universe who numbered and named each star, who feeds and shelters the sparrows, who knows how many hairs are on my head, can calm any storm.  I need to remember that while many things that happen in this life surprise me, nothing surprises God.  He saw it coming.  And he already has a plan to make it work for his good.

God can take ugly and make it beautiful.  He can take evil and work it for good.  He can.  I don't have to.  At least, I certainly don't have to alone.  I don't have to serve him up optimal conditions or circumstances.  He can work with bad.  That's frequently his specialty.  And it turns out so good.

I often console myself with the words, "It's going to be okay."  That's my human nature talking.  Ultimately?  It's all going to be better than okay.

Some days are hard.  That's life.

Tomorrow, I pick up my pieces, brush myself off, and give it my best shot.  I'm just one person, but I can be the best Jennie I'm able to be.  I will trust God with details beyond my control.  Thankful for those fresh mercies every morning and a life verse to keep me motivated.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.  Colossians 3:23

But seriously.  It's going to be okay.

A Chance to be the Fly

Last Friday morning at 6am I sat straight up in bed.  Sam had just left for work.  The soothing aroma of freshly brewed coffee was wafting into the bedroom, but that wasn't what jarred me awake.  I'd had a semi-conscious realization.  As we are now halfway through our fourth year of homeschooling, and time seems more fleeting than ever, I pondered to myself, "How old will the rest of the kids be when Ben is a senior in high school (six years from now)?"

The resulting answer is what brought me to an alarmed state of consciousness.

Assuming we continue to homeschool all of our children all the way through and don't add any more children to the herd, when Ben is in 12th grade, I will have...

A kindergartner
A 2nd grader
A 4th grader
A 7th grader
A 9th grader
A 12th grader.

Literally, K through 12.

I did what every reasonable person would do and I sent my husband a message at work.

"Do you realize this!?"

He was naturally unconcerned, and responded the way he does so well, with a calm, calculated comment to defuse the entire situation.  Aside from the fact that it's (ahem) six years away, we'll get through it the same way we get through our current circumstances - one day at a time with adjustments along the way.

A lot of people probably wonder, and many people have asked me what it's like to teach a first, third, and sixth grader with a baby, two year old, and three year old running around.  It's just life for us, and I don't feel like we're doing anything exceptional or extraordinary.  I'm praying that's what it will feel like six years down the road.  I'm not saying it's easy, and I'm not saying I'm particularly good at it.  It's just life, and we do it.

So, I figure it might be fun to run through a typical day at the Sheppard household.  Here's your chance to be a fly on the wall.

7am:  Noah wakes up and plays with the two toys he insisted on taking to his crib with him the night before.  He calls, not so quietly, for Daddy to come get him.  That means Mommy.  We're working on it.

7:30am:  I get in the shower with my cup of coffee.  (Yes, I take it in there with me.)  I tell myself I should get up before my kids because that's what the internet says good moms do.  Vow to do it tomorrow knowing full well that no matter how early I get up, I will be accompanied by miniature people who lie in wait for the slightest movement and interpret that as permission to start their days.

8:15am:  Fix breakfast and/or entertain the option of delegating breakfast prep to one of the older kids.  On those days anticipate breakfast running a little later and making a larger mess.  It's okay.  (I tell myself it's okay a lot.  It's a coping mechanism.)

8:45am:  Call everyone to breakfast table where I intend to cover one of our three read-aloud-together subjects.  Listen as each kid lobbies for a different one.  Wait as everyone remembers a condiment, beverage, or utensil not already available on the table, and get approximately two sentences in before Noah finishes chugging and starts thrusting his cup into everyone's face "politely" yelling, "MORE JUICE PLEASE!"  Meanwhile, 3 year old Leah babbles on about how she "already knows" all two sentences of what I just read and walks off leaving her breakfast untouched.  Two more sentences into the lesson, Sarah falls off the kitchen bench, Abby stands up and begins attempting a standing split or pirouetting, and Ben makes a comment like, "The Danish King?  What's he in charge of?  Cheese danish?" And then laughs at himself because he's his mother's son.  We muddle through the remaining pages of the chapter while Leah and Noah provoke each other to wrath in the playroom and Abby continuously asks how much longer until she can go play outside.

9:15am:  I realize it's a gorgeous day outside and it would be better for everyone involved if the kids got some much-needed wiggle time in the form of fresh backyard air.  I happily clean up jelly and syrup puddles if it means I get to rest my ears for 3 and a half uninterrupted minutes.

9:18am:  Leah returns from the backyard and has to change her entire outfit for the second time since breakfast (where she didn't eat anything, but somehow got syrup all over her body) because she voluntarily played in a wheelbarrow full of rainwater and got a splash of wetness on the knee of her pants.

9:30am:  I attempt various chores because, let's face it, I'm behind on every single one of them.  Halfway through starting the washing machine, Noah needs a diaper change.  Halfway through stripping beds, Hannah needs to eat.  Halfway through everything, someone else requires something.  I decide to call and pay a few bills which means I lock myself in my master bedroom closet where two doors away, at least two children are knocking and crying to let them in.  My phone drops the call 3 times because, well, I'm calling from a closet.  I decide to try again another day.

10:30am:  After a solid hour of playtime, I call a child to the kitchen table to "knock something out before lunch."  Both girls sit and complete their math lessons at the same time because Sarah likes taking her time test at the same time as Abby in the name of friendly competition.  Abby cries foul and I launch into an explanation of how it's not really unfair because their time tests are based on their respective abilities.  No one cares.  Noah poops for the sixth time that day.

11:45am:  Ben, who has been reading in his room for the entire morning, emerges ready for lunch.  I remind him that he has yet to complete any actual schoolwork so he does a logic puzzle then goes out back to torment a sister or two.

12:30pm:  While the frozen pizza cooks (don't judge me), Ben and I sit down to discuss grammar.  He laughs out loud that anyone would ever confuse "Let" and "Leave" or "Sit" and "Set" with each other  like the good little grammar snob that he is.

1pm:  I attempt another read aloud subject at lunch.  While everyone has food in their mouth, I speed through a lesson on the digestive system from our anatomy book.  Somehow, no one loses their lunch despite graphic descriptions of what exactly is going on inside their bodies even as they chew.  Noah insists on wearing his shoes while he naps, and despite the fact that it flies in the face of everything I believe in, I allow it.  Because we're behind on everything and I can't fight ALL OF THE BATTLES.

2:00pm:  Hannah sits in her high chair with six kids worth of baby toys on the tray while I complete a grammar and writing lesson with alternating first and third graders.  Ben sits at one end of the table making snide remarks and casually taking two hours to complete a single math lesson, not because it's difficult but because he procrastinates like a BOSS.

3:00pm:  I realize we've only done half of the subjects on our charts.  I make a cup of coffee and turn on Phonics videos for a three year old who is determined to do school like her big brother and big sisters despite my pleas to wait another couple of years and just play.  Ben realizes he has a lot to do before he's awarded screentime and gets angry because he's not finished yet like Abby and Sarah who have so much less work than him.  I mumble something about age and responsibility, and being expected to perform according to your abilities.  Then I sneak peanut m&m's in the pantry because no one saved me any pizza and I'm just now realizing I never ate lunch.

5:00pm:  I kick everyone outside redirect everyone to the backyard where they can grab a few more moments of vitamin D while I pick up the pieces and reflect on another day in the Sheppard homeschool.  I lament the fact that we skipped Latin and Art again.  I smile at the ridiculously hilarious things each and every child said throughout the day.  I shake my head over the attitudes that arose and blame myself for all of the negative qualities I see in my children.  I consider that even on our worst days, we are incredibly blessed to have each other, however imperfect.  And I rejoice that we created memories.

Lately, I've found myself grumbling about silly things here and there.  Some of them were (home)school related and some were just general life and people related.  Then I think to myself "if this is all I have to worry about, I'm doing alright."

I hope that's what the fly would say.

Lady, you're doing alright, in spite of yourself.

Then we'd share some pantry chocolate.

One day at a time, right?

"Ten" Pieces of Unsolicited Advice from my Corner of the Internet

It is becoming increasingly obvious to me that I'm getting old.  I recently realized that most professional athletes are now younger than me, even quarterbacks.  I watched a football game and as the wide receiver jumped four feet off the ground in the end-zone to snag a ball and came down and landed on his shoulder only to pop right back up to do a celebratory touchdown dance, my first thought was, "Oh!  I'd totally break something if I did that!"  I graduated from high school 15 years ago.  I'm on the cusp of raising a teenager when it feels like just yesterday I was 12 myself.

All of that, but mostly, technology makes me cranky.

Maybe it's not so much technology but the grip it has on all of us.  I find myself frustrated and indifferent to newer technology because I remember a time when we all so easily coped and, yes, even thrived without it.  It's a great, distant memory - those days when I woke up, drank a cup of coffee, and did something productive like, took a shower.  These days, most of the time I roll out of bed, grab a cup of coffee, and check my phone.  What's so important on there?  Not much, I tell you.  But good gracious, I can't seem to fathom the possibility of missing something like reading ANOTHER BLOG POST regarding "Ten Things not to Say to...Large Families/Small Families/Single Folks/Your Grandmother/Your Postman/Children with Questionable Fashion Sense/Babies with Ears."

I'm guilty of writing a few of those posts myself.  I seem to think people care about ALL OF THE OPINIONS floating around in my head.  That's not so bad, I guess, so long as I'd be willing to say these things to people's faces.  But it seems like we're not allowed to say anything to anyone anymore.  I mean, pretty much every opinion piece on the internet tells me Ten Things Not to Say to someone.  Heaven forbid we cause someone else to be even remotely uncomfortable.  Heaven forbid we take our faces out of our phones and actually converse with someone in real life.

I'm an introvert and it's taken me a very long time to learn how to chit chat and make eye contact and all of those normal social behaviors.  I've still got a long way to go, but I'm a work in progress.  For example, I am now capable of ordering take out over the phone without an anxiety attack.  I'm now able to sit in a waiting room and crack awkward jokes with strangers to pass the time.  I am now functional enough in new social settings to introduce myself to others and attempt small talk.

Only...now I feel like I probably shouldn't.  What if one of those Ten Things Not to Say comes out my mouth?  What if I offend someone?

I honestly don't want to do that.

So here's what I decided.  It starts with me.  I've decided to give a pass to anyone who says any of these "Ten Offensive Things" because I don't want to be the person who's offended by chit chat.  I want to be the person who welcomes a real life conversation with someone who's not staring a phone.  I want to teach my children that sometimes platitudes are just that.  When someone sees my large family in the grocery store, it's not actually offensive for someone to look at us and say, "Wow, your hands are full!"  It's true.  My hands are full.  And I do look tired.  And there are enough of them for a basketball team plus a sub.  Maybe I really like basketball and that was my plan all along - to birth a coed, multi-age basketball team so we can play pick-up games all across the country on our travels.  (Or not.)

I don't want to live life walking on eggshells.  I want to hear the "offensive things" and learn to respond gracefully.  I want to say the things I don't even realize are offensive and have a real life conversation with the person I just inadvertently offended so they can tell me why they are upset by it.  I want to mess up, face-to-face, and learn how to overcome it.  I don't want to be soft.  I don't want to be thin-skinned.  I want to hear other people's stories and learn why they think and feel the way they do.  I want to make eye contact.

Will you join me?  Let's give each other a pass.  Let's do our best to be nice and apologize when we aren't.  Let's let it roll off.  Life's too short to take the little things so seriously.  I have better ways to spend my numbers days here.  We all do.

It's a Wonderful Life

Let me preface this post with a Public Service Announcement.  If you have never seen It's a Wonderful Life, the film, stop what you're doing right now and go watch it.  You're doing yourself a disservice with every day that passes and you haven't seen it.  I'll wait here.

***drums fingers to pass the time***

Fair warning:  If you didn't watch it, there will be spoilers. 

Wasn't it awesome?  Hands down my favorite movie of all time.  It's always presented at Christmas time and I guess that's relevant since the culmination of the movie takes place in front of the Christmas tree, but it truly is an anytime movie.

I've always related to George Bailey.  When I was younger I was a dreamer.  I might not have had the same dreams as him.  I wasn't a dreamer in the whimsical sense of exploring distant lands and adventuring on safari.  I dreamed of what my future would look like in a practical sense.  I planned things.  I didn't plan a beautiful, extravagant wedding or an exotic honeymoon like many young women.  I created a picture of a life I thought I wanted.  A Georgetown townhome in the hustle and bustle of anonymity.  A successful career.  Security and comfort.  Predictability.  I created goals for myself, and I set out to achieve them.  Many times I did.  Through hard work, an innate diligence, a support system, and privilege, I was able to accomplish a lot of things at a young age.

In a sense, nothing has changed.  I'm still the same girl capable of working hard and being diligent.  My support system is stronger than ever.  And there is simply no denying that my life is one of privilege.  To suggest otherwise would be a bold-faced lie.  But the picture is different.  I'm not where I expected to be.  This is where good ol' George Bailey comes into play.  Through various life-altering events, he came to be the head of his father's Building & Loan, stuck in the town he grew up in, solving (to him) mundane problems for his fellow townsmen, growing a family in a house in constant disrepair.  The picture had changed.  He threw himself the biggest of pity parties.

George didn't realize that his expectations were the only reason he was disappointed - that the work he was doing and life he was living were significant to uncountable people.  It took the drastic measure of a guardian angel to show George what the world would look like without him in it.

Let's not get all caught up in the theology of this and let the story be just that - a story that paints a beautiful picture.

Some days, I relate to George Bailey.  I'm doing work I never imagined I'd do, surrounded by an alarming number of children I never dreamed I'd have, in a place I wouldn't have guessed that I'd pick to live.  Sometimes, it's easy for me to think that what I do isn't making a difference.  I don't have a Clarence to slap sense back into me, but my husband is a bit like Mary Hatch, always able to find the positive.  He's the optimism to my realism (okay, fine cynicism).  And while there's not a tangible Clarence to show me what life would be like without me, I cannot imagine a planet earth without each and every one of these precious children.  My world has become so much bigger than myself.  I feel my selfishness creep in and God laughs and tells me "Ain't nobody got time for that."  I can't take credit for any of my blessings.  Clearly God is doing his work in spite of me.  But I see evidences of grace when Abby corners me in private and asks me if I can tell everyone to go outside and play together so she can spend some time with her big brother, who doesn't even realize how much she adores him.  I see Sarah rush to a crying Hannah, change her diaper, and sing her a sweet song.  I see Leah and Noah playing  not fighting co-existing in the playroom without bloodshed or screaming.  I see a family of 8 on the road together for 31 days on the adventure of a lifetime, sharing tiny spaces on little sleep, and returning home tired, but closer than ever.

I see smiles and hand-holding.

I see children who know how to appreciate the finer things in life.  I get to re-experience the simple things through their eyes.  I get to show them the beauty that surrounds us.  

I see children with the gift of a true childhood.  One spent outside exploring, getting dirty.  Full of spontaneous giggles.  And lots and lots of laundry.

I see the testing of boundaries.

I get to realize that the messes aren't messes.  They are just evidences a life fully lived.

Anytime I find myself chasing the "what if" rabbit, I need only pause for a split second to realize that all of those neat and tidy expectations about my future weren't what I needed.  

This was.  

Thank you, God, for blessings beyond my wildest imagination.  For directing the course of my life.  For allowing me to experience the fullness of your love.

This is the life. It's wonderful.

2016 Precap

It's the final hour of 2015 so I'm tempted as always to recap the events of the past year and marvel at the adventures, the silliness, the ups and downs.  Of course I could still do that, but I'm running out of minutes and for the most part I've already relished in those moments.

I read an innovative idea that I loved on the Pioneer Woman's blog today that suggested Precapping our resolutions as if they already happened, as a way to kick off the New Year.  So here are my goals and hopes that have yet to occur, as if they already did.  Let that sink in for a moment.  Then proceed.

My 2016 Precap

I woke up consistently at the same time every day, before my children, spent time in the Word and actually composed a few blog posts.  Turns out, there are plenty of hours in the day to do the things my soul requires, I still have worthwhile thoughts, and I'm a better person for it.

I changed out of stretchy pants and into pants that button (or should, anyway) a few times a week.  It was a genuine wake up call to my waistline.  I didn't stop eating chocolate because of it, but it did help me reconsider my soft drink habit.

Speaking of soft drinks, I kicked them to the curb entirely except on Sunday with our weekly Firehouse Subs indulgence.  I've filled my carbonated void with ice water, unsweetened tea, and coffee.  Because I'm human.  Not a robot.

I started keeping a food journal which is terrifying and convicting.  Turns out I eat a lot of miniature candy bars.  And chips.  And McDonald's chicken nuggets.  Seeing it on paper is pretty embarrassing.  Letting Sam read it is even worse.  Now I just lie and write "raw broccoli and green smoothies."  Sam knows better.  My pants still don't button.

I have purged mountains of clutter from our home freeing up all sorts of brain space.  It feels like the weight of the world (or ten boxes and sixteen bags of crap) has been lifted off my shoulders.  And also, our house feels a million times cleaner.  Even though I still only mop the floors twice a year.  Kidding!  (Or am I?)

I utilized my new Kindle (okay, fine, the replacement for the one that got dropped multiple times by each of my kids rendering it useless) to read various genres of books, stretching myself from my usual self-improvement, Christian-fiction, and non-fiction ruts.  I expected to be more enlightened, but since I wasn't I'll stick to what I know and love.  Unless you'd like to recommend something to me, the next books on my list are Saved without a Doubt by John MacArther, Big Love by Kara Tippetts, and Smart Women Know When to Say No by Dr. Kevin Leman.

I banned myself from Facebook from the hours of 9-3 every day so that I could wholly devote myself to the job I took on back in August 2012, teaching my children.  We might not adhere to those hours per se, but the self-imposed ban has increased productivity across the board and improved my whole attitude.  I'm not distracted by the "noise" of unimportant tidbits and news articles.  My family is benefitting from my presence.  The only thing I miss is running to share the hilarious things my kids say.  But to be honest, writing them in a spiral notebook is just as effective - and something tangible I can keep forever and share with them.  (Although, I admit, slightly less fulfilling.  No one "likes" my spiral notebook scrawlings.)

I went outside of my comfort zone and started a bible study for my homeschooling peers.  It's not perfect.  It's messy just like us.  And that's why I love it.  I might not be a details person (anymore), but I've found that when you find "your people" they don't care if things are perfect.

I put my own selfishness aside and set up more playdates, engaged in more social events, and threw caution to the wind and taught a class at our homeschool co-op.  Turns out, I don't have to be scared of people.  People are pretty cool.  Especially when you get to know them.
**************
I have no idea what 2016 will bring, but I pray it will be blessed.  For my family and yours.  While my words are few and far between on this humble blog, I hope you know how grateful I am to you for reading it, whether faithfully or for the first time.

Happy New Year, Y'all! 
Here's hoping you'll be hearing a lot more from me in 2016!  I think I've finally got this whole "six kids thing" figured out.