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.