I've already confessed, in a post written on the first day of this month-that-I-can't-believe-is-over-already (hello? December? why'd you go by so fast??), my near failure at choosing a theme word for each year--and more importantly, letting that word have any meaningful impact on my life during that time period. For example, my word for 2011 was supposed to be Less; but did that change how I lived this year? Not so much.
But "hope springs eternal," and I've optimistically decided to try again with this whole idea of a theme word. After much thought, prayer, and even some discussion with Jeff, I've chosen a word:
Arise.
At its most basic level, this word reminds me to do something truly profound and soul-stirring: get up in the morning. ;-) I told you it was profound. :)
But seriously, if there is one thing--just one--that I could change about myself and how I live it would be to wake up earlier in the morning so that I could consistently have time with God first thing, before children awake and the busy day begins. For some people, this is a piece of cake; and if that's so for you, I hereby give you permission to laugh (kindly) at me. But let me tell you, this is SO HARD for me.
I am a night person through and through. Almost every single night, I stay up later than I should; and I only go to bed because I make myself do it. I feel like my brain comes alive at night; my creative energy surges; and the peace and quiet of my home give me the opportunity to think and write and simply enjoy being awake. I never wake up in the morning before I have to. I never bounce up and think, "What a wonderful morning! I can't wait to get up and enjoy it!" I always stay in bed until little voices call for me to come and help them with something.
I desperately want this to change.
Like so many other women, I have such a strong sensation of time rushing by so quickly. I know that I am not using my time as wisely as I could and am, in essence, wasting this most precious of gifts. I'm not suggesting that every minute must be consumed with frantically running around being "productive," because there is certainly a time and place for slowing down and relaxing. But I know that the stress I constantly feel from the "there is too much to do, and I'll never be able to get it all done!" mindset could be and should be lessened by a wise, disciplined use of my time. How many times have I heard, "God gives us enough time for what He wants us to do"? and of course, I agree with that. Unfortunately, I haven't learned to live it out like I want to.
I know, without a doubt, that the key to my whole schedule is the time I awake and the activity I do first thing. For the former, it must be earlier than it has been, and the latter must be time with my Lord.
You can laugh at me further when I say that the wake-up time that I'm shooting for is 7:00 a.m. For some of you, that's ridiculously late. But for me, whose habit is to go to bed every night after midnight (and sometimes quite a bit after midnight) and whose fatigue is heightened by this dear one growing inside me, aiming for 7:00 is aiming for the moon. I need God's help to propel me there, because I'll never make it on my own.
As strange as it may sound, if I knew that God wanted us to adopt a couple of kids this year, I would have more faith about that undertaking than I do about me habitually getting up early in the morning. If I could see into the future and knew that God would ask us to move to the deepest jungles of Africa, I would feel more confident about that venture than I do about my "simple" wake-up-at-7:00-a.m.-for-a-quiet-time project. I suppose the reason is that I've never experienced adoption or jungle life in Africa, so it's easy for me to feel faithful about those tasks (remember, I'm generally optimistic). But this desire to wake up early and spend time with God is one that has been in my heart for YEARS; and sometimes I've had success, but overall, I have a history of failing in this area. Failure, failure, failure. I feel it stamped all over me, and it even makes me tremble to post this and admit my lack of victory in this area.
I've tried so many times to change this about myself. I have made resolutions and plans and goals and had high dreams, but I always fall back into my stay-up-too-late-and-sleep-in-too-late-and-then-be-rushed mode of living. If nothing else in my life changes in 2012, I so much want this one (hugely significant) area to change.
Already I feel challenged by this, and it's only the morning of January 1st I'm thinking about! After all, I'm committed to stay up until midnight tonight. Josiah and David have been eagerly awaiting this special night to stay up late and ring in the new year. After they finish watching a movie, I'll play games with them until we wake up a sleeping daddy on the couch a few minutes before midnight, then go outside to bang pots and pans and set off firecrackers. The tradition must be kept. :) But then I'll scurry off to bed and hope for a successful morning waking. My Bible will be laid out for me, my cup of hot tea will be ready, just awaiting the hot water being poured into it, my alarm will be set, my new cozy robe will be handy to wrap up in during the chill of the morning. I'll do everything I know to do to make this happen.
But I am dead serious when I say I can't do this without His strength. If 2012 brings victory in this area, it will only be because of His hand working within me to transform me more into the likeness of His Son who, "very early in the morning, while it was still dark...got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed" (Mark 1:35).
With His help, even I can learn to...
...ARISE!!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
2011: The Nutshell
The last day of 2011 is here! My, my, my, where did the time go? ;-) But even as I marvel at the swift passage of this year, I'll say that today is a perfect day for a look back...
One way to review the past year is to remember the various looks this blog has had. I do love changing it every month. When I see a whole year like this, I always ask myself the question, "Which month's look was my favorite?" And then I inevitably come to the conclusion that I really can't decide. I do the same thing every year. :)
Yep, it's still true. I really can't decide which one I like the best!! :)
In the past, I've seen others - and have done so myself - recap the year by posting the first sentence of the first post from every month, or by making a list of which posts were the most popular as judged by which got the most comments. But this year, I want to do a variation on that. I decided to make a list of my favorite two posts from each month. These are not necessarily the ones that got the most comments, but they're ones that, for one reason or another, I think, "I especially like this!" as I read back through each month.
For January:
For February:
For March:
For April:
For May:
For June:
For July:
Hope Deferred, Part Four (and the other parts in the miscarriage story, but I picked this one because I love how it ends...knowing as I do now that I conceived our sweet daughter the month after the miscarriage lends incredible significance, for example, to the conversation I recorded in this post--the talk I had with the boys about the miscarriage...it was delightful to read back through this post and see how God so quickly answered their prayers: for another baby AND for a sister!!)
For August:
For September:
So Long, Farewell...to Facebook (I particularly like this post because of the Facebook status updates I included in it, precious snippets of life and conversation that I did not want to forget)
For October:
For November:
For December:
2011 has been a treasure, no doubt about it. A little heartache along the way, but so much joy to fill my days! Even though this blog proclaims it every day, it's worthwhile to again say, "My cup overflows!" And to the One who pours so much goodness into it, I can only say, from the bottom of my heart, "THANK YOU!"
I've got my cup ready for 2012, and I can hardly wait to see what flows into it! :)
Lessons #6 & 7: Lightbulb Moments
This week, I've felt like I'm back in college, cramming for days to meet all the deadlines of finals week. Blogging--at least, the kind of blogging I do--isn't supposed to have deadlines! But somehow, I've set myself up with expectations of what I want to get accomplished here on the blog while it's still December, and now I'm rushing to make it happen. Maybe I'll take a break during the first week of January and only post short, frivolous things. :)
Just for record-keeping, the series intro is here.
Lesson #1 is here.
Lesson #2 is here.
Lesson #3 is here.
Lesson #4 is here.
Lesson #5 is here.
Too much of the time, I only see life from my perspective. Despite my efforts to the contrary, egocentricity defines me, and I must continually fight against it. But two times in particular this year, the blinders were peeled from my eyes, and I could suddenly see life through the outlook of someone else. Here is how it happened.
Early this year, when Shav was still waking often at night and I was beyond frustrated by my lack of sleep and my inability to help him past the hurdle of night-wakings, I was laying in bed in the middle of the night and, to tell you the truth, feeling a good bit sorry for myself. "Why is it my responsibility to get up with Shav in the night?" I muttered. "Jeff could be helping out more with him. I know if I needed him to, I could wake Jeff up and he would do his best to help out. But why doesn't he automatically wake up? Why is the job on my shoulders? As much as I'd like to, I can't ever say, 'I just don't want to do this anymore' and quit my mothering job. I'm so stuck in this role. It's not fair!" Writing it out like that reminds me of what an ugly pity party it was becoming, and I'm ashamed to write the words. However, the good part of this story is yet to come.
Suddenly, the lightbulb turned on inside my head, illuminating the reality of the situation; and I realized that, no, Jeff might not automatically wake up at the slightest sound from Shav's room, but he carried a huge burden on his shoulders: the responsibility to work to provide an income in order to sustain life for the six of us who were currently in the family. As much as I might occasionally help out financially by foregoing certain luxury items on the grocery list to save a little money or by doing a little accompanying work for which I received some compensation, I did not, in any way, carry a significant part of the financial load. Jeff had no choice but to go to work to make money in order for us to live. Whether or not he liked his job made no difference. Whether or not he felt like doing it had no bearing. He was (and continues to be) stuck in his role. If he didn't perform his duties, the ship would go down.
How humbled I felt! How much more grateful I suddenly was than I had been a moment earlier! How much more willing I was to do my part to keep the ship afloat; and although I couldn't go off to work and ease the financial strain on the family, I could and would give my heart and do my best to fulfill my role. Even if that meant getting up every night with Shav. And with that, the pity party was over. Completely and unequivocally over.
The second lightbulb moment occurred one time as I was struggling with letting my mother help me with the dishes. I know many of you reading this are probably thinking, "What's wrong with you, Davene? I would LOVE to have my mother--or anyone else--help me with my dishes!" But from previous conversations, I know there are a few of you who understand that sometimes, as a grown woman in charge of one's own household, it's challenging to accept help from one's mother. :) Even if you think I'm nuts, bear with me as I write out the lesson I learned.
In the beginning part of this year, I often felt like a three-year-old in my relationship with my mother, mentally stamping my foot and saying, "I can do it myself!" (Watching Tobin in this phase of life has been somewhat like looking in a mirror!) I so desperately wanted to prove my capability to care for the needs of my own family and, in the process, I craved the affirmation that came from my parents seeing that I was good enough to take care of everything myself. Just like Tobin. *sigh*
Many times, I would push my mom out the door (figuratively, of course) after supper and not let her stay to help me with the dishes, even though she genuinely likes doing dishes and really would have been more than happy to do them for me. My pride got in the way of me accepting her help so often. But eventually, along came a lightbulb moment.
The thought came suddenly and thumped me over the head: what if my parents, rather than agreeing to come up here for supper every evening, started saying, "Oh, no, Davene, we'll just eat at our house tonight; we can manage without your help; you don't need to cook for us"? How silly that would be! Why not just let me serve them in this way? After all, it makes perfect sense for me to cook a slightly larger portion for the evening meal and have them here for it, too. Why should they stubbornly insist on staying at their own house and going to all the trouble of making their own dinner?
Fortunately, they never did that, because they're too humble...AND smarter than that. ;-) But in that instant, I realized that in essence, that's exactly what I was doing, stubbornly, foolishly refusing the help that was so graciously offered to me. My pride was flaring up and was just as ugly as my pity party had been.
From that point on, I began to change in this area; and although I don't always let my mom stay to help with the dishes, now at least I have a good reason for those nights when I usher her out the door. ;-) Like last night, when my dad wasn't feeling well and it seemed more important for them to go ahead and return to their home to settle in for the evening and try to help him get a good night's sleep to recover from the germs that I"m sure we passed along to him (sorry, Dad!). But since that lightbulb moment, that sudden flash of how things look from outside my own perspective, I'm willing to let go of my pride and admit that no, I can't do everything on my own, and yes, I need help, and most of all, thank you for doing my dishes! :) I'm sure my parents are very relieved by how I'm growing past the three-year-old stage. ;-)
So, with that, I've come to the end of my reflections on specific lessons learned in new ways during 2011. I know, given more time, I could dredge up other thoughts about what I've learned and ways I've grown this year. But I'm glad to have taken the time to write out these seven lessons; and I hope that by doing so, I'll be able to look back upon them and be reminded of the truths I've learned. I don't want to fail this level and be sent back to learn these all over again!! ;-)
I wonder what lessons 2012 will bring...
Just for record-keeping, the series intro is here.
Lesson #1 is here.
Lesson #2 is here.
Lesson #3 is here.
Lesson #4 is here.
Lesson #5 is here.
Too much of the time, I only see life from my perspective. Despite my efforts to the contrary, egocentricity defines me, and I must continually fight against it. But two times in particular this year, the blinders were peeled from my eyes, and I could suddenly see life through the outlook of someone else. Here is how it happened.
Early this year, when Shav was still waking often at night and I was beyond frustrated by my lack of sleep and my inability to help him past the hurdle of night-wakings, I was laying in bed in the middle of the night and, to tell you the truth, feeling a good bit sorry for myself. "Why is it my responsibility to get up with Shav in the night?" I muttered. "Jeff could be helping out more with him. I know if I needed him to, I could wake Jeff up and he would do his best to help out. But why doesn't he automatically wake up? Why is the job on my shoulders? As much as I'd like to, I can't ever say, 'I just don't want to do this anymore' and quit my mothering job. I'm so stuck in this role. It's not fair!" Writing it out like that reminds me of what an ugly pity party it was becoming, and I'm ashamed to write the words. However, the good part of this story is yet to come.
Suddenly, the lightbulb turned on inside my head, illuminating the reality of the situation; and I realized that, no, Jeff might not automatically wake up at the slightest sound from Shav's room, but he carried a huge burden on his shoulders: the responsibility to work to provide an income in order to sustain life for the six of us who were currently in the family. As much as I might occasionally help out financially by foregoing certain luxury items on the grocery list to save a little money or by doing a little accompanying work for which I received some compensation, I did not, in any way, carry a significant part of the financial load. Jeff had no choice but to go to work to make money in order for us to live. Whether or not he liked his job made no difference. Whether or not he felt like doing it had no bearing. He was (and continues to be) stuck in his role. If he didn't perform his duties, the ship would go down.
How humbled I felt! How much more grateful I suddenly was than I had been a moment earlier! How much more willing I was to do my part to keep the ship afloat; and although I couldn't go off to work and ease the financial strain on the family, I could and would give my heart and do my best to fulfill my role. Even if that meant getting up every night with Shav. And with that, the pity party was over. Completely and unequivocally over.
The second lightbulb moment occurred one time as I was struggling with letting my mother help me with the dishes. I know many of you reading this are probably thinking, "What's wrong with you, Davene? I would LOVE to have my mother--or anyone else--help me with my dishes!" But from previous conversations, I know there are a few of you who understand that sometimes, as a grown woman in charge of one's own household, it's challenging to accept help from one's mother. :) Even if you think I'm nuts, bear with me as I write out the lesson I learned.
In the beginning part of this year, I often felt like a three-year-old in my relationship with my mother, mentally stamping my foot and saying, "I can do it myself!" (Watching Tobin in this phase of life has been somewhat like looking in a mirror!) I so desperately wanted to prove my capability to care for the needs of my own family and, in the process, I craved the affirmation that came from my parents seeing that I was good enough to take care of everything myself. Just like Tobin. *sigh*
Many times, I would push my mom out the door (figuratively, of course) after supper and not let her stay to help me with the dishes, even though she genuinely likes doing dishes and really would have been more than happy to do them for me. My pride got in the way of me accepting her help so often. But eventually, along came a lightbulb moment.
The thought came suddenly and thumped me over the head: what if my parents, rather than agreeing to come up here for supper every evening, started saying, "Oh, no, Davene, we'll just eat at our house tonight; we can manage without your help; you don't need to cook for us"? How silly that would be! Why not just let me serve them in this way? After all, it makes perfect sense for me to cook a slightly larger portion for the evening meal and have them here for it, too. Why should they stubbornly insist on staying at their own house and going to all the trouble of making their own dinner?
Fortunately, they never did that, because they're too humble...AND smarter than that. ;-) But in that instant, I realized that in essence, that's exactly what I was doing, stubbornly, foolishly refusing the help that was so graciously offered to me. My pride was flaring up and was just as ugly as my pity party had been.
From that point on, I began to change in this area; and although I don't always let my mom stay to help with the dishes, now at least I have a good reason for those nights when I usher her out the door. ;-) Like last night, when my dad wasn't feeling well and it seemed more important for them to go ahead and return to their home to settle in for the evening and try to help him get a good night's sleep to recover from the germs that I"m sure we passed along to him (sorry, Dad!). But since that lightbulb moment, that sudden flash of how things look from outside my own perspective, I'm willing to let go of my pride and admit that no, I can't do everything on my own, and yes, I need help, and most of all, thank you for doing my dishes! :) I'm sure my parents are very relieved by how I'm growing past the three-year-old stage. ;-)
So, with that, I've come to the end of my reflections on specific lessons learned in new ways during 2011. I know, given more time, I could dredge up other thoughts about what I've learned and ways I've grown this year. But I'm glad to have taken the time to write out these seven lessons; and I hope that by doing so, I'll be able to look back upon them and be reminded of the truths I've learned. I don't want to fail this level and be sent back to learn these all over again!! ;-)
I wonder what lessons 2012 will bring...
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thanksgiving 2011: The Conclusion of the Matter
"Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task." So said William James, and I do believe he was right. With that in mind, I'm going to sit myself down and stay at the computer until this task--so long hanging over my head--is done. That's right, I'm finally going to finish my Thanksgiving posts. It's still 2011 so technically I'm not late, am I? ;-)
In case you don't remember (who would?), these posts started long ago with Part One...Part Two...Part Three...Part Four...Part Five...Part Six...and Part Seven. Whew, that's a lot of thanksgiving. :) And now, to finish!
After the race and the jubilant, tearful (on my part), exciting accomplishment of Josiah and David's first ever official mile run, we returned to my brother David's house for the traditional part of Thanksgiving: feasting (oh, the food was so good!), fellowshipping, and falling asleep on the couch, of course. ;-)
You all know what Thanksgiving is all about, and I'm thinking that your celebrations looked pretty similar, so I'm not going to say much about all of this. At least, I'll try to keep my fingers from typing every thought that flies into my head. ;-)
After that, we gave hugs all around, said goodbye, and departed for Virginia. Jeff drove, and most of the rest of us slept on the way home. I wonder if, even in our sleep, we were smiling as we remembered how special the Thanksgiving of 2011 was. :)
And with that, I am done! The eight-part saga is over, with just 25 hours to spare until 2012 comes knocking. Take that, you "uncompleted task." I beat you this time! ;-)
Lesson #5: When He Adds, He Also Multiplies
I remember the conversation well. I was standing with a friend on King George Street in Tel Aviv, the salty air of the Mediterranean blowing over us. We, both mothers of one child at the time, were discussing the future and wondering how many children we would--or should--have.
"Well," I told her, "I've heard other mothers say that one child takes all your time...and two children take all your time...and four children take all your time. So you might as well go ahead and have as many kids as you want!" We laughed together, but both of us knew the truth of that statement. One child did take all our time.
********
Sometimes when I look back on myself in a younger me, I shake my head a little in disbelief. Why did I find it so difficult to keep a tidy, clean house when I was a newlywed? It felt next to impossible; and in those days, my favorite indulgence was having a cleaning lady come and do a good cleaning for me. Of course, back then, I had never heard of FlyLady, and I did not know that when it comes to cleaning, a lick and a promise is an acceptable way to get the job done, and good enough really is good enough.
When Josiah was born, my whole world changed; and the adjustment, although anticipated and welcomed, took time. Why did I feel like caring for one child was SO demanding? During part of our time in Tel Aviv, Jeff was taking Hebrew classes in the mornings and coming home for lunch. Why did I chafe when he was so much as five minutes late, feeling like I couldn't possibly handle the mind-numbing routine of spinning tops on the floor with Josiah or doing a shape-sorter puzzle with him?
I cannot tell you how many times I sadly wondered why the transition to motherhood felt so hard for me. As we led a singles ministry and counseled engaged and newlywed couples, I saw many of them deal with difficult adjustments to life with a spouse; but as I recall, getting married and learning to live as a wife was a piece of cake for me. (Maybe it was all those James Dobson books my mom encouraged me to read when I was a teen.) ;-) Not so with motherhood. Although I loved my children dearly and wouldn't have traded my position as a mom for anything, I often thought, "Why is this so difficult for me? Why do I get so uptight? Why do I lose my patience so quickly? Why can't I just roll with things and wear this garment of motherhood as easily as I put on the wife garment?" I especially remember feeling this way when Josiah and David were young. Keeping my cool and being patient and gentle with them was literally an everyday battle. "Why does it have to be so hard?" I asked myself.
********
When people hear we're expecting our fifth child, I don't know everything they think; but I can imagine that some of them assume that we're anti-birth control or part of the Quiverfull movement. We're not, really; but any topic like that surely deserves its own post. Maybe someday... At any rate, I have learned to view children as the great blessing that God intended them to be; and I do REJOICE when He decides to add to our number. One thing that helps my joy is realizing that when God adds children, He also multiplies.
"Multiplies what?" you might ask.
Well, for starters, love, joy, peace, patience, and all the gifts of the Spirit. He multiplies time, strangely. He multiplies resources. Let me explain...
When it comes to money, people seem to assume that we must have a lot of it to be having five children. While it's not true that we are currently making five times as much as we did before we had our first child (that's not the kind of multiplication I'm talking about), it is true that in material ways, we are well provided for. I'm sure part of it has to do with the fact that we make wiser decisions now than we used to. We cut corners where we can, while still living abundantly. We garden, which helps with food costs. When we go out to eat (which is not often), we choose Country Cookin' (where the whole family can eat better and cheaper than at McDonald's) over more expensive places. With having four boys, we make good use of hand-me-downs--not only with clothes, but also with toys, books, homeschool supplies, musical instruments, etc. We have been generously blessed by the gifts of others to us: i.e. Jeff has several co-workers who have given us many, many items of boys' clothing over the past five years. We rarely have to buy any clothes for the boys. When we do buy clothes, we shop at the thrift store. For our little girl, we have already been blessed incredibly by people giving us clothes for her. We pinch pennies every way we can, while still living joyfully, freely, not stingily. Somehow, God takes the income that Jeff works so hard for and multiplies it to fill every single need--and many of the wants--that we have.
Or take time. One of the objections I hear often to a large family is that there isn't enough time to give personal attention to each child. I understand that, of course; and I certainly have moments of feeling pulled in four directions when each of my sons demands something of me at the exact same time. But is it so bad for them to learn the lesson of waiting? "David, I'm listening to Tobin now; but I will help you as soon as I am done." In my opinion, that's actually good training for the real world.
But there's another thing about time. Not only do Jeff and I carve out specific planned time with each child individually, but there are also many times when God graciously gives us impromptu moments with the child who needs it just at that time. It might be after bedtime, when one child is still awake and could benefit from some extra attention. It might be the middle of the morning, when somehow all the boys are occupied with various tasks except for one who comes to me and needs to talk. It might be during quiet time or during dinner preparations or any number of other options. But God, in His infinite wisdom and ability to order even the smallest details of our days, has a way of making sure that, if I am paying attention, I recognize the opportunities to pour love into each child, one on one. My days still have 24 hours in them, much to my chagrin. ;-) But somehow, He multiplies those 24 hours and ensures that I have enough time in them to meet the needs of each of my children. This, however, requires sacrifice and self-denial on my part, which leads me to my next point...
The fruits of the Spirit. Before I had Josiah, I knew that I was far too selfish, and that this area of my life needed to be crucified. I also was convinced that nothing would work in this pruning process better than becoming a mother. That's not the reason I wanted to have children, but it was a side benefit that I was happily anticipating. :) Sure enough, as Josiah was added to our family, followed by David, Tobin, Shav, and now our little girl on the way, I was faced with a choice: cling to my selfishness to the detriment of our family, or give it up in order to reap the benefits of a healthy, happy family. When you put it that way, the choice is obvious. :)
Although I have SO FAR to go in who I want to become as a wife and a mother and a child of the King, it is heartening to look back and see where I've come from. Let me give you one example. In a comment on this post about our whirlwind trip to Virginia Beach, Sally said, "You must be a whiz at preparing things in a snap for such occasions..." Well, I don't consider myself a whiz at it; but I do know I've grown in this area. Because of Jeff's influence and God working in me, I am much more peaceful and relaxed about such spontaneous outings that I ever used to be. As a mother of four with one on the way, I am much better at just picking up and going (and being joyful about it!) than I was as a mother of one. Sally's comment made me remember a time when Josiah was two years old, I was pregnant with David, and we were heading to Jerusalem for the wedding of some friends. Because everyone from our congregation in Tel Aviv was going to the wedding, someone arranged for us to rent a bus to make the trip in (since very few in our congregation had cars, it was actually cheaper for us to do it that way than for each person to individually pay for public transportation to get to the wedding). I was SO stressed. "A whole day away from home? And no way to get home early? If the rest of the people traveling on the bus want to stay really late at the wedding, I'll be stuck there, too! How am I going to manage this? How will Josiah do without being able to be at home for his regular nap? And (here was the real kicker) how am I ever going to survive such a long day without a nap for myself???" I can only laugh when I think back to that day. Well, laugh AND thank God for how far He's brought me since then. Why, oh why was I so stressed?
********
A few years ago, I struck up a friendship with a woman who came from a family of seven, and I remember asking her how her mother did it. I was eager to learn all the "secrets" of being a mother to a large household. At the time I thought to myself, "I wish I were a seven-child mother." Not that I wanted to instantly have a few more children dropped in our lap! But I wanted to have the knowledge and ability of what it took to mother seven children so that my tribe of four at the time would seem easy! :)
Similarly, I wish that I could take who I am now as a mother of soon-to-be five and transplant that woman back into the Davene of 2002 when Josiah was born. I wish I could possess the wisdom and perspective and flexibility and grace that I've acquired in the past 9 and a half years. But it doesn't work that way, does it?
Ten years down the road, I'll most likely look back on myself at the juncture of 2011 and 2012 and think, "Wow, you sure had it easy. Why did you ever think your lot in life was difficult?" :)
********
As I go through this pregnancy and look ahead to the time when the baby is born and I go through the adjustment of caring for the needs of five children, I am comforted--immensely so--by the thought that God, when He adds the responsibility of children to a family, also multiplies all the resources that are necessary to care for those children. Windows of time, financial reserves, plentiful food on the table, all the Godly attributes that are essential for raising children--all of this flows from His hand. And in his system of math, addition and multiplication are closely related. Thank God for that!! :)
Photos from Josiah's family night a while back, when his choice of activity was a game of Risk. Seeing a daddy with his four boys warms my heart... :)
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