My First Thirty Years

I can't help but think of Tim McGraw whenever I hear that someone's turning 30.  I've always loved the song, My Next Thirty Years, even if I was a mere sixteen when it debuted in July of 2000.  Of course, being an old soul (from birth, I think), the responsible "next" thirty years always resonated more with me.  As I sit here on this milestone birthday reflecting, I don't want to make a list of things I want to change from the last three decades to the next.  If my first thirty years have taught me anything, it's to expect the unexpected.  And, so, that's what I'm going to do.  That makes my song a lot more boring, but, hey, it's concise, and it covers my bases.

Why am I expecting the unexpected?

Because I was born and raised a legalist.  I had rigid expectations of myself and others.  I had a plan that would not be altered, no matter the price.  I determined at the age of 10 that I would be my high school valedictorian, by golly, and nothing was going to get in my way.  (Seriously, who does that?)  I aspired to attend college where I would play field hockey for a D-3 school, live singly, establish my career, live in a semi-urban environment with eventually a husband and maybe two kids.  I would continue to work outside of the home.  I would make oodles of money, but not be above sending my kids to public school. 

Doesn't always work out the way we plan.

It all began changing when I accepted a scholarship to Mercer University, a private, (at the time) Southern-Baptist university where the majority of the students were from Georgia and had never even heard of the sport of field hockey (and certainly made fun of me for the way I pronounced it - apparently "hockey" doesn't sound like "hack-y" - dead giveaway that I wasn't "from around here").  It was never a school that was even on my radar.  It was the first, true step of faith I'd taken in my life.  When I walked around that campus for the first time, I knew I was "home."

Two weeks before I turned 18, my parents and I packed up my belongings and moved to Macon, Georgia, a city 800 miles from the only home I had ever known, a city where I didn't know a soul.  Speaking as a parent now, I look back on that day, and I wonder how my mom and dad did it.  I admire them for their faith in me, for trusting that I would make the right decisions, for having the gumption to drive away.  It's entirely different from the perspective of a 17-year old girl fresh out of high school with an inflated sense of self and nothing to stop her from achieving her goals.  Within the next two weeks, I turned 18, made my first "C" on a test in my life (Calculus II), and called my dad crying hysterically from a pay phone with the news that I hated it and I wanted to come home.  He convinced me to stick it out for the semester.

I'm so glad he did.

Within the first year, I met my husband-to-be, made great friends, learned what it meant to be a "student" for the first time in my life, experienced some pride-crushing grades and lessons in humility (which I obviously needed in the worst way), and made both excellent and stupid choices as I suspect many young women in my position would.

In just two years, on my 20th birthday, I was a married woman, 9 months pregnant, packing up Sam's and my first apartment in preparation for the move into our first house.  Let me just tell you, this was not part of my plan as outlined above.  I like to think Someone had something better in mind for me.

In the next ten years, I continued to make plans.

I determined to graduate with my engineering degree, get a job as a civil engineer, pass my licensing exam to become a Professional Engineer, have another kid, balance life as a work-out-of-the-home mom, among other things.

I accomplished all of those things.

In those same ten years, things I said I'd "never" do came to fruition as well.

Due to the "economic downturn of 2008" I lost my job (albeit not until November 2010) and became a dreaded-to-me stay-at-home-mom.  I sat for my PE license in October 2010, found out in January 2011 that I passed, and have yet to use the designation professionally (and don't have any imminent plans to do so either).  I sit here today, on my 30th birthday, 26+ weeks pregnant with my fifth child.  I'm a homeschooling mom of multiple grade levels who voluntarily pulled my children out of the public schools that I championed for so long.

Never say never.  Expect the unexpected.  Don't pin your lives on things that ultimately don't matter.  Turns out, God's plans are a lot more exciting than my own.  And make a far better story, in my opinion. 

I don't need to write a song for my next thirty years.  I think I'll just default to the classic, old hymn:

When we walk with the Lord in the light of His Word,
What a glory He sheds on our way!
While we do His good will, He abides with us still,
And with all who will trust and obey.

Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

Not a shadow can rise, not a cloud in the skies,
But His smile quickly drives it away;
Not a doubt or a fear, not a sigh or a tear,
Can abide while we trust and obey.

Not a burden we bear, not a sorrow we share,
But our toil He doth richly repay;
Not a grief or a loss, not a frown or a cross,
But is blessed if we trust and obey.

But we never can prove the delights of His love
Until all on the altar we lay;
For the favor He shows, for the joy He bestows,
Are for them who will trust and obey.

Then in fellowship sweet we will sit at His feet,
Or we’ll walk by His side in the way;
What He says we will do, where He sends we will go;
Never fear, only trust and obey.

In my next thirty years, I want to trust and obey.  I can make plans, but I can also rest easy in knowing that God has already made plans for me.  And life makes a lot more sense when I conform my will to His.

Besides, His plans kind of rock.

 

God-willing, here's to at least thirty more years of the good stuff - the twists, turns, the blessings both planned and unexpected. 

Life Lately

I always wondered how those people with 1,000 kids keep blogging.  Now I wonder even more.  It's not that we've been exceptionally busy doing anything in particular, we've just been doing this thing.

Life.

As I am typing this, my four year old walked into my office the bathroom where I have my computer at my vanity, because, let's face it, I'm not doing hair and makeup there, holding the hand of my 17 month old who was supposed to be fast asleep.  Hence the stolen moments for blog posting.  Turns out, I was only able to steal about two of them.

Maybe I should just go with some snapshots of life lately. 

On July 22, we officially started our homeschool year.  It's been my earnest intention to get as much as humanly possible "learned" before Shep5 makes his/her appearance in November.  So far, we haven't lost any steam and we're even ahead of schedule.  As long as the kids are agreeable, I say, let's move.

Oh wait.  Did I say ahead of schedule?  That would be on math, grammar, writing, and Latin.  I won't even mention science.  And we actually just finished last year's history.  But that was such a momentous event, we marked it with a toga party.  Even if it was two weeks into the new school year.  Turns out, 42 chapters of one history book is hard to cover in one year.  But being the finisher that I am, we could not move on until we read and discussed every last page of that book.  And so we did.  I am pretty sure this was their favorite "lesson" of the year - even if the sparkling grape juice, colby jack cheese cubes, Totino's pizza, grapes, and thawed frozen cheesecake weren't exactly authentic Roman cuisine.  They did wear crowns of laurel, make royal scepters, and don togas (just look beyond the Cars print sheets, please).  I even pulled out the good china because, really, when else do I use that stuff?

Probably shouldn't put this one on here, but it cracks me up.  Oh Sarah.  (Really, folks, it's okay.  She was just pre-gaming with a little grape juice.  I repeat it is just grape juice.)

Clearly that was too long for a snapshot - speeding things up...

We've watched Lee Lee blossom right before our very eyes.  She's so much a part of this family I cannot even remember what it was like before her.  That is one loved baby girl.

 

Nice ponytail, Leah.

This past weekend we took the adventure of all adventures (okay, slight exaggeration there), and we rode a train to the booming metropolis of Plains, Georgia (population 764), famous only for peanuts and Jimmy Carter. 

 

Don't they look thrilled?

 

Notice how I placed Abby strategically right in front of me?  Foiled again all of you belly-lookers, you.  Note also that Sarah is totally hoarding the large cup of peanut butter ice cream all for herself.  Leah, of course, just wants to get down.

The next few months promise to be as exciting as ever including such events as a spontaneous trip to the beach in-lieu-of-presents for Sam's and my combined birthday, a milestone birthday for yours truly, our first double-digit kid birthday, our first international trip (to Canada - where I insist on eating poutine at least one time), a stop in Michigan to visit with dear friends that moved away from Georgia over a year ago now (!!!), a new baby (!!!!!!), and I'm sure many, many attempts to keep Leah from eating every marker in our home. 

On the plus side, she seems to only eat them and color on herself with them.  So far our home hasn't sustained any irreparable damage from said marker usage.  Just one bathroom door that came clean with some Clorox wipes.  Although, she did color the back of our lesser used bathroom door...almost as if to see how it would work out in an inconspicuous location.  Maybe she's just testing the waters before she goes for the tv or something.  Oh man, I'm going to have to knock on wood and put that girl on a leash, aren't I?

God willing our next few months (and beyond) will be full of love and laughter.  Always laughter.  If there's one thing we do not lack in this home, it's the ability to laugh heartily.  I am so grateful for a husband to laugh with...all the time, about anything, about everything, about nothing, about a french fry we discovered shoved in our sleeping baby's mouth when we went to retrieve her from her carseat.

And with that, I will take a note from Leah and attempt to catch some zzzz's, however fleeting the ability to sleep is for me these days.  (By the way, if anyone has any helpful remedies for pregnancy-related insomnia, I'm all ears.)

Until I see you again, I encourage you to laugh.  Heartily.  As often as possible.  To the point of obnoxious.  Life is too short to take too seriously. 

Putting on Love (Reprise)

As long as life continues on earth, Christians and non-believers will have to share the same space.  That's life.  That's just the way it is.

The problem isn't that we share space.  The problem is that Christians expend too much energy concerning themselves in the moral affairs of non-believers and not enough energy on the hearts of non-believers or on church discipline.

Consider that the thesis statement of this post.  I'm going to park on the first half and save church discipline for another day because, man, this is already heavy and I haven't even gotten started.  Probably why I'm up at 1am penning this post.  But when the rhythm Spirit gets you, sometimes you just have to go with it.

So, Christians condemn immoral unbelievers?  Say it ain't so.  I'm thinking I can get an "Amen" from just about every reader on that one, am I right?  Pick any social issue.  It doesn't matter which one.  If you camp on the "other side" of the beliefs of the Christian church at large, I'd wager a guess that at some point a believer has cast judgment on you.

The thing is, that's not the Christian's job.

Consider the parable of the wheat and the tares (or weeds).  In Matthew 13:30, the master says:

Let both grow together until the harvest.  At harvest time I'll tell the reapers: Gather the weeds first and tie them in bundles and burn them, but store the wheat in my barn.

Let the weeds be the non-believers and the wheat be the Jesus-followers.  This is a pretty serious situation.  In the end, at the harvest, there will be a judgment.  The weeds will be plucked out and burned.  The wheat will be stored in God's barn, eternally.

In the here and now, when Christians concern themselves with legislating morality we miss the target.  Without Jesus, a world without terrorism, abortion, murder, hunger, abuse, rape would be moral but that's simply not good enough.  In the words of Ed Stetzer from The Subversive Kingdom,

These are all good things, to be sure.  But without Jesus, those good things are eternally insufficient.  We don't want people to just behave morally.  We want them to know Jesus.  We want a real change of heart, change of life.   We want them to come into the kingdom.

If all we do is fight cultural battles, we are doing very little to add people to the kingdom of God.  Sure, there are going to be weeds, but God will take care of those in the end.  For now - for us - we would do well to focus our energies, efforts, and prayer on converting the weeds of the world rather than plucking them out.

How?  How do we do this?

Well, folks, it's going to have to get a little uncomfortable.

Allow me to quickly spotlight just a few ministries that do some radical work in the lives of non-believers.

XXX Church:  This ministry is committed to serving those struggling with the addiction of pornography.  They show up at porn shows, strip clubs, and international locations, not with picket signs and megaphones to condemn, but with Bibles to show grace and love because they care.  They provide an online recovery program, accountability, and support for men, women, teens, and those in the porn industry who wish to break free.  The 'Jesus Loves Porn Stars' (JLPS) Bible debuted in June of 2006 at the Erotica L.A. convention in Los Angeles. They gave out over 3,000 of these Bibles for free in less than 24 hours.

The Dream Center:  From their website:  Founded in 1994, The Dream Center is a volunteer driven organization that finds and fills the needs of over 50,000 individuals and families each month.  We do this through mobile hunger relief and medical programs, residential rehabilitation programs for teens and adults, a shelter for victims of human trafficking, transitional housing for homeless families, foster care intervention programs, job skills training, life skills counseling, basic education, Bible studies and more. We work to meet people where they are at, to bring them hope and a way off the streets. 

I just recently read about this ministry in Lysa TerKerst's book Unglued.  Go to their Rescue Project website and look around at what they do to meet the physical needs of the homeless, hungry, enslaved, abused, neglected, addicted.  It's incredible.  Over 100 Dream Centers have opened up since the inception of the original location in Los Angeles.  Missionaries from all over the world come to train and take with them the skills they learn from just a brief amount of time at this facility.

Hand of Hope:  From their website:  Hand of Hope is the missions arm of Joyce Meyer Ministries. Our goal is to help as many hurting people as we possibly can, to alleviate human suffering and to help Christians grow in their faith.  Through vital outreaches, practical humanitarian aid and media broadcasting worldwide, we’re sharing the love of Christ to millions around the world.

"Time and again I am impacted not only by the great needs of people worldwide but also by the amazing opportunity God has given us to do something about it.” -David L. Meyer, CEO of Hand of Hope   

Whether it’s through a feeding program, rescuing women from human trafficking, translating Joyce’s books or one of the many other outreaches we’re able to be part of, our goal is clear: to show people that we truly care about them as people and that they are not forgotten.  We believe if we do that long enough, they will eventually want to know what’s different about us and what’s compelling us to do this for them. And that’s when we get to introduce them to our Savior—Jesus Christ.  (emphasis mine)


I am honored to know personally one of the amazing women who has gone on many of these international mission trips, my Aunt Lydia.  She leaves and comes home on fire for the Lord, ready to go again, with a sense of obvious urgency to reach lost souls.

This is what the kingdom of God looks like.  Here.  Right now.  This is Christianity.  Our time on earth is but a breath of air, temporary, fleeting, and instead of simply passing the time to get to the eternal, we ought to be really concerned about our business here and now.  There is work to be done.  Just like in the parable of the talents, from the time the resources are passed out to the time they are accounted for at the end, we must decide whether to bury what we've been entrusted with or to make the most of it.  This is stewardship. 

Again, from The Subversive Kingdom, Ed Stetzer asks:

How can I live out what God has for me with what God has given me?

This is our challenge, as Christians, today and until He comes.  How can we represent Jesus?  How can I live out God's will for my life?  What does that look like?  What are some tangible, real ways I can show Christ's love for others?

These are not rhetorical questions.  What does it look like?  For some it's going overseas to the remotest parts of the world and administering medical aid.  For others it's handing out Bibles at porn conventions.  For some it's offering a drug-addicted prostitute on the streets of Los Angeles a hot meal and a chance to escape her circumstances.

You see, it's a lot easier to fight with someone on Facebook about what the Bible says than to go out and do what Jesus did.

For me, part of my mission is to disciple my family and that is a noble, consuming job.  Sam and I have five eternal souls to devote ourselves to.  That's not small potatoes.  But there is more outside of this family.  There is a world of lost and dying souls.  And right now, I'm feeling the urgency.

I'm going to reiterate my personal 2013 scripture passage that I referenced in the first Put On Love post:

So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you.  Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful.  Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God.  Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father.  Colossians 3:12-17

I want to be the love of Christ.   

That's My (3rd) Girl!

I had a unique opportunity last week to spend some one-on-one time with my littlest kid.  Ben was off at day camp from 7:45am-5pm and the middle pair of practically-inseparable girls were off at Grammie's house for a week of girl adventures complete with pedicures, shopping, and Barbie legos.  That left me and Leah in the house for the better part of the day, just the two of us.

Let me just say, this little girl is awesome.

(I like to take pictures of her when her hair is wet because then it looks like she has some hair.)

I managed to get the whole house cleaned with "just" one kid running around at my feet, but I also got to enjoy little Leah in a way that I'm not truly sure I have before that week.  I don't know if it's because when the other kids are here she's just part of the herd or if she took the opportunity that week to really open up and shine.  Either way, it was a real treasure. 

And because I feel like you, the blog readers, know my older kids so well, I wanted to dedicate this post to Leah, who, as it turns out, is no less spit-fire than her bigger siblings. 

Following in the footsteps of her older siblings, Leah is a phenom when it comes to gross motor skills and spends the better part of her day finding news things to climb.  As with most of the lesser desirable skills and qualities I see developing in my kids, I try to look on the bright side.  Like, she's going to make an excellent mountain guide someday.   Because she devotes most of her energy to her climbing, running, and other will-be-athletic skills, she does not do a whole lot of talking.  It's not a concern at 16 months, especially considering the pattern of her older siblings, but she communicates perfectly well with nods, shakes of the head, an effective pointer finger, and squeals of discontent.  This is the modus operandi of Sheppard children.  And it seems even more so for the 4th child with three verbose older siblings. 

While she might not do a whole lot of meaningful talking, she definitely understands us when we talk to her.  "Do you want to wash your hands?" is followed by a vigorous nod and an all-out sprint to the sink where she tries to scale the cabinet hardware as taught by Sarah.  When I tell her it's time for a diaper change, she runs to the living room and even lays down next to the basket where we keep the diapers and wipes.  Even when I try to encourage her to do more talking, like when she kept sliding off the side of the vinyl chairs at the doctors office while trying to climb up onto them and resorted to smacking the chair and staring at me, I said, "Leah, say 'Up, please,'" she just looked at me and nodded as if to say, "Yeah.  Duh.  That's what I've been saying this whole time."

This week has been an exercise in watching her imagination grow.  I don't remember my others doing "pretend play" so early, but then again, maybe it's the pregnancy brain.  She's got her Barbie and Prince Eric dolls having some serious conversations.  Incomprehensible to most, but definitely not to her.  She's also been loving on her baby dolls.  Kissing them, rocking them, hugging them, and pushing them in the stroller.  So she needs a little practice to keep her from crashing into the walls.  Typical woman driver.

You tend to think that by the time you get to number four you've seen most everything.  Not true at all.  Leah is our first to love shoes at such an early age, particularly rain boots.  She literally sprints when she hears either an exterior door or the pantry door open, regardless of where she is in the house.  She pantomimes a very convincing look of sheer, brute force with her arms on either side of the tray when she's finished in her high chair and wants to get out.  When we cry (or pretend to, just to see her reaction), she gets the saddest little pouty lip.  We're not sure if all the fake crying is scaring her or if she's trying to commiserate, but either way, we think it's pretty hilarious.  While she is most definitely not the first child we've had to prefer the emperor's new clothes look, she's the first we've had to attempt to redress herself after completely stripping down.  We can tell this is happening because of the screeches of sheer panic that come from trying to shove a head and two arms through the same arm hole.  I am pretty sure she is the first child we have who is completely afraid of being submerged in any depth of water.  The surf, the two inches of water that collects in the roadside gutter after a rainstorm, and Grammie's kiddie pool all qualify as death traps for this little munchkin. 

 

It's probably my fault.  I think she's only had two baths since birth.  (We're not gross.  Shower are just way easier in my opinion.  But, hey, at least she doesn't mind water in her face!)  See, though, she's not scared at the top of the water slide.  Just in the pool.  Silly goof.

And then...there are the hijinks.  While I don't think she has the strong will of Ben, the all-out wide-open energy of toddler Abby, or the scary combination of will and athleticism of Sarah, Leah has her own brand of quiet mischief.  And she does it with a smile and a seemingly innocent "Who? Me?" look.   Trust me.  She is not innocent.

 

Not when she's scaling the table just moments before friends come over for Bible study and shredding all of the napkins.

 

 

Not when she's removing all of the dirt from the [sad] plant in the foyer.  (Okay, fine, so maybe she was just trying to put it out of its misery.  A green thumb, I have never claimed to be.)

Not when she's wearing several pair of Mommy's underwear as scarves and finishing off someone's Cherry Dr. Pepper after Sunday lunch...on top of the table, of course.

And not when she busts into the under-the-sink cabinet with child-proof locks not once, but twice in a week and ingests a dishwasher tablet and sprays herself in the face with 409 cleaner.  Turns out, she's okay.  But, really, Leah?  Why?

Couldn't you almost eat her?  She's so precious.  

If you aren't buying it, come hang out with us some day.  She might give you a dirty look at first, but she'll warm up.  Especially if you give her some food.  Preferably candy.  And now, if you don't mind, I'm off to watch her dance while she pulls on her earlobes excessively hard as Sam sings one more round of "Do Your Ears Hang Low?"

One Year Olds, Man.  Crazy.  Crazy Fun.

Summer Vacation - Mom Things Style (Again - Because I'm Unoriginal.)

You are the unwilling, but obligated participant in impromptu, made-up pool games that begin something like this, "Let's play sharks and whales.  Mommy, you're the whale."  Gee.  Thanks. 

You ignore the disapproving stares of onlookers as you laugh at and take pictures of your one year old who stands terrified and screaming in a whopping 1" of surf.

Due to impeccable timing, you find yourself at the beach and in the path of Tropical Storm Andrea.  Of course, for your kids this is just an adventure of a lifetime as they got to "swim" in the rougher-than-usual surf.  (Oh, and word of advice, if you receive a text message warning of you of a tornado in your local area, that would be a tornado in your present local area, not where your home phone number is based.  Not that we have any experience with that...)

You spend the last day before vacation shopping for matching, but not-quite-matching white and khaki attire for the family so that you can take a rare, treasured family photo at the beach.  It worked.  You got some great ones, but you also got some fabulous outtakes, and, as usual, you like those the best.

(Here are some of the "good" ones...)

About two days into your trip, your four year old decides she knows how to swim, and you watch as her excessive confidence proves true and she abandons her swimmies.  In true Sarah-style, she tackles underwater swimming first, and graduates immediately to taking on waves without a lick of help on her boogie board.

You go to hit the snooze and your hand lands in a slice of semi-hardened American cheese.

Despite being 19 weeks pregnant, you find yourself demonstrating gymnastics moves at 10pm because your six year old has suddenly sparked an interest in all things gymnastics.  On a related note, you were very pleased to find out that a tripod, cartwheel, and round off are still doable.

During VBS week, when your church hosts over 800 children, you managed to lose your wandering four year old at least twice.  The good news is she didn't go home with a stranger.  The bad news is no one claimed her.  (Okay, that was a terrible joke.  It was just a joke.  Promise.)

Thanks to higher-than-average rainfall amounts for the summertime, you have to beg your children to come inside after dark because they want to catch some of the millions of little, green frogs hanging around on the sides of the house.  Incidentally, this is also the reason you cannot locate a single flashlight in your home.

You used to get all kinds of comments about how you looked too young to be a mom, too young to be married, and how there was no way you could have one two three four children.  Seems you've finally grown into your life circumstances (and beyond), since just this week someone asked you if you were your husband's mom.  And it still counts even if that someone was 7 years old.

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And just a noteworthy brag on that husband.  You know you landed a good one, when he agrees, for the third year in a row, to co-teach with you at VBS.  Despite the fact that this means he works 4+ hours with second graders, then goes to work for 8+ hours to support our family.  We love you, Sam.  And we are grateful for your dedication to us.