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?

One Sentence Eulogy

If you are my Facebook friend, it's no secret that I have been reading a book (again) that I deeply love.  The title is Listen, Love, Repeat by Karen Ehman.  I don't get paid to promote the book.  I don't get a cut if you buy it.  I just think you should read it because it teaches us why and how to put others before ourselves in a world screaming "me first!"

One of the reasons I've really enjoyed it is because it gives actual, practical advice on how to love others beyond taking them a meal or sending a text (both wonderful things to do, however...not knocking either of them).  Like any great book, she goes out on a high note with my favorite two chapters coming at the end - entitled "Nearest and Dearest: How to Really Care for your Clan" and "Scatter Kindness."

As I sit here, plagued by a third trimester overactive bladder and inability to get comfortable in any sleeping position, I found myself contemplating both chapters.  You see, I'm not in a great mindset to be putting others first right now.  I'm grumpy, uncomfortable, sweaty, and tired.  Fortunately, that's all just temporary.  (Well, let's be honest, not the sweaty part.  Okay, or the grumpy part, if I'm being totally transparent.)  Nevertheless, how I treat others cannot depend on my mood.

We need to remember our why, the reason we love and serve and give thoughtful gifts and do good works.  It is so that others will see Jesus.  They may look at us, but we hope they see him.

I have the beautiful luxury of having a lot of "nearest and dearest."  This is amazing because I have seven, soon to be eight, staggeringly different personalities to learn and know and love and navigate.  It means I have seven, soon to be eight, people as a constant audience of me at both my best and, more often, my worst.  Our nearest and dearest have the unfortunate privilege of getting to see our ugly side.  We share with them the short-temper and harsh tones we wouldn't dare show to anyone else.  I am the number one offender when it comes to taking for granted that they know I love them.  I am guilty of pouring into others when I neglect to pour into my own.  "Yeah, but they know how I feel.  I don't have to show them."

Wrong.

This weekend was my husband's birthday.  It came on the heels of a week of business travel for him, and a whirlwind week for me at home with the six kids, a huge belly, plus tons of extra things going on (first soccer practices, volleyball practice, a few play-dates, hosting book club at my house, routine church activities, chores, etc.).  I was feeling less than energetic and inspired when it came to figuring out a present and a way to celebrate.  Fortunately, Sam rose to the occasion himself and arranged for us to pick him up at the airport and spend the night in Atlanta, where we ate at a couple of his favorite restaurants, enjoyed a favorite treat (Auntie Anne's Cinnamon Pretzel), "relaxed" at the hotel pools with six kids, and browsed the exhibit hall of a Homeschool Expo (wait, that part might have been for me).  Knowing he loves a good nap, we let him take a good one on Sunday after we got home, and the kids prepared the decorations and entertainment (an improvised Happy Birthday song to the tune of a wordless Disney karaoke track) while I prepared the caramel cheesecake because I had literally none of the ingredients to make a copycat Chili's Molten chocolate cake.  We presented the photos we took while on the way to Atlanta at church for a gift, and I prayed he somehow picked up on the fact that we adore him.  I simply cannot take for granted that he knows.  We have to show him and tell him we love him.

In the final chapter of the book, Karen poses a question to the reader.  If  someone were to record a one-sentence eulogy about me, what would they say?  How would they describe me?  I took that thought another scary step and pondered what my kids, specifically, would say.  Late in the third trimester suffering from insomnia is probably not the best time to be contemplating this, but I pray they'd be able to say something like:

She laughed more than she cried.
She praised us more than she criticized.
She let a lot of things go that might make other people crazy.
She succeeded more than she failed.
She apologized when she was wrong.
She did for others what others wouldn't do for her.
She was patient even though she was tired.
Maybe, she gave us soft, gentle, thoughtful answers rather than using harsh, painful, and careless words that stirred up anger.  Oh, wouldn't that be amazing?

I'm not sure they can say those things, but I can dream.

Knowing how fleeting our moments are here on earth, I want to do life better.  To scatter more kindness.  To love my nearest and dearest the way they deserve.  To invest in the lonely and brokenhearted.  To recognize the necessary people.  To reach out to the cantankerous and prickly knowing I might get hurt.  To glean my free moments to do these things instead of wasting them playing Cooking Fever or checking Facebook.  (Not that I do either of those things all day long.  I'm a grown woman!  Seriously though.)

Kindness starts simply.
An encouraging word.
A loving gesture.
A tender sentiment sent through the mail.
A thoughtful small token.
The gift of unhurried time.
A rousing pep talk.
Simply vowing to speak and act in a way that is gentle and kind is the starting point.
Aesop was right: "No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted."