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.