I Have Seen the Face of God and It's in my Fridge

It's been a very rough couple of weeks.

My migraines have entered a whole new stratosphere of persistent pain. It has been reminiscent of the pain I experienced after my second son was born. The migraines got worse and worse until it just wouldn't break at all, for anything. And it persisted for 15 months before we found relief.    The problems are hormonal, this much we know and we are currently trying the one thing that worked back then and oddly enough we have not had the same success. I am older, my doctor tells me, and have had four more babies since then, so I must be patient.

Meanwhile, I haven't been able to get out of bed for almost three weeks. Migraines are so hard to explain and I find that most people just can't understand, and that's okay. For me it is like an ice pick lodged in my right eye with pain radiating out from there. Or like a "brain freeze" headache that persists, without relief, for days on end. Light, noise, motion, all these things make it worse and all these things are plentiful in a house full of children.  Laundry piles up, messes collect in corners, and worst of all I see it wear on my family. My children are frazzled and sad and confused, my husband is stoically hanging on but I can tell he is exhausted and worried.

On Friday I had to miss something at school that was very important to both my older boys. My joy-filled-never-discouraged nine year old left the house fighting back tears and the injustice weighed so heavily on me I thought I would die. It's a constant battle between faith and hopelessness, a constant dialogue in my mind with God, wrestling with the angel if you will, trying to accept what God has allowed, and knowing that it in no way changes who He is, how good he is, or how present he is in our lives.

Then, in the most beautiful and overwhelming way he spoke. Not in a bush, or with writing on my wall, not with an angel, or a vision, but with the outpouring of the love of others. I have an amazing community, one full of generous and selfless, holy people who are ready and willing to be the hands and feet of Christ. One email went out and within hours, hundreds of people were praying, storming heaven for my healing, for the strength of my family. But beyond that people began to act. By the next day I had hundreds of dollars worth of food in my house, meals for days to be frozen, and a dozen more people promising to bring food in the coming days. It is so much more than just food. It is a resounding reminder that we are not alone, that God never intends for us to suffer alone, but that he calls us to stand together, to hope for those who cannot hope, to believe for those who are too tired to believe. Through my suffering he has provided an opportunity to reveal more about himself, to show us his amazing goodness.

My most overwhelming response to this kind of charitable goodness, after gratitude, is unworthiness. I cannot fathom what would compel people to be so kind, so generous and thoughtful and giving, for I am so undeserving. And then like a bolt of lighting, it strikes my consciousness. this is how God loves us. We do not deserve one ounce of his love and yet it is always there. This is what he requires of us, to love the way he loves, and why in Matthew 25:40 he reminds us that everything we do "for the least of these" we do for him, to him. I am overwhelmed with the love I feel from others, some I know and love dearly, some I have only met once or twice, and yet they allow themselves to be Jesus to me, to my family, to my precious children.

 And although I wish I could get up and carry on, a part of  me realizes that what my children are learning from this is far more valuable than anything my presence can give them. They are learning  how it feels to receive a gift they do not deserve, just as we must allow ourselves to accept the love of God, a love we will never fully comprehend and never be worthy of. They have seen what selfless giving looks like, what it means to take care of one another, they are seeing the Body of Christ in action and whether they can express it or not it has changed them.   They are learning that God always provides for us, that he gives us strength and hope when we are in need of it, and that he promises to bring good out of every suffering.  Because this pain not only effects me, but also my family, we are learning to offer it up together, to pray for others who might benefit from what we are giving up and in turn seeing what people are willing to give up for us.

We have so much to be thankful for. I know that this is but a season, and I pray that it is not a long one. I am grateful that this is all I have to suffer as so many suffer so much worse. I am not dying, my children aren't having to say goodbye to me, they just have to be without me a bit more for right now. I am so glad that they can see that we are not alone, and I hope if they learn nothing else for now that they are at least a little in awe of people's generosity and that in time they will begin to see that this is how Jesus loves them, with such inexhaustible generosity and love, a love they don't deserve but a love that will always be available to them, a love that is worth suffering for, a love that suffered all things first.  I feel we have been given a little taste of heaven, a reminder that one day we will all be together, singing "Holy, Holy, Holy" in unison with the angels, and all of this will be but a breath.

God bless all those who are the hands and feet of Jesus.

May I Have a Personal Chef Please?

Unfortunately my migraines have been really bad lately. This is unfortunate for myriad of reasons, not least of which is how hard it is on my family when I am not available to them. Thankfully, we have a wonderful support system with a great community of people who are always so willing to help whenever and wherever they can.

One of the ways people often offer to help is by making us meals. Anyone who has ever had a baby, or been ill, or suffered a loss, and had someone bring their family food, knows that it is one of the biggest blessings in the world. I am of course, very grateful when some dear friend comes and takes my very noisy children out of the house, while I hide in a dark room, but a meal has a way of blessing all of us, especially my husband, reminding us that we are not alone.  

All of this is true, and beautiful but it got me thinking.

 What if you didn't have to cook dinner every night?

 For so many of us, the three most dreaded words of our day are "what's for dinner?"  My four-year-old usually asks me this by 6:45 in the morning, just so that she can immediately respond with "But I don't want that for dinner," or "but why didn't you say corn dogs are for dinner?" 

The planning, the shopping, the prepping, the actual cooking, it's all exhausting and tedious. The ruts we find ourselves in, the insurmountable attempt to find a balance between cooking something that is good for your family, but not something they will groan about, pick at, or throw up. Then there's the financial wizardry required to do all of this on a budget, to keep protein in their diet but not spend all your wages on meat. Organic or not? Grass fed, home grown, gluten-free, sugar-free, taste-free...the possibilities are endless and they all require time, money, and energy you don't have. 

Perhaps one day, I'll make myself more useful and pass on a few of the tricks I have learned about planning meals and managing a grocery budget (it would be a pretty short post). But today I just want to comment on how glorious it is when I don't have to cook dinner!

I love to cook as hobby; I love to hostess, and feed crazy amounts of people, but that's a totally different ball-game. When you host, your guests are grateful, you justify cooking decedent, time-consuming dishes, you make time to make it fun. It is not the same when you are making spaghetti for the screaming masses, and all of them start crying when you put the "red stuff" on their noodles, saying all they want is butter. Or when they start hinting at the possibility of puking up their broccoli, which you took special care to try to make more palatable in the hopes that this time they would eat it. 

So it's settled. If I were extremely wealthy, and money were not an object I would forgo shopping sprees, still drive my luxurious Ford Econoline 12 passenger van, and pool all our resources to justify my own personal grocery shopper/ meal planner/chef and only cook when I felt like it. Think of all the time you would have? Think of all those moments throughout the day as time marches on and you have that nagging voice in your mind reminding you that you still haven't decided what you're making. Think of the most arduous part of every day, that witching hour when homework needs to be done, and anyone under 3 starts screaming and crying and saying your name incessantly, but with no real need being articulated.  Now imagine that you are managing all of that without having to think about dinner. Suddenly, it's not quite as absurd. I totally understand why people with expendable income, and small families eat out all the time. Granted I want the lovely scene around the dinner table, and I am grateful that my kids are in the habit of setting a table, eating with manners, as a family unit, cleaning up together and so forth, but the nitty-gritty of it is so exhausting. This is why a personal chef is the perfect answer. You're still at home, they still acquire all those lovely skills but all you have to do is show up. Maybe you'll even know for sure if all the kids washed their hands. 

For now I will just enjoy the last few meals coming this week and be grateful that we are rich with friends who are selfless and giving, who do more than feed us, they spare me the drama of making dinner! 

An Oldie but a Goody

I am coming off a brutal five-day stretch of non-stop migraines and needless to say have fallen a little behind in housework, groceries, discipline, homework, personal hygiene....well, you get the picture. 

I have a new post I'm working on, but due to the previous admission I do not have time do finish it right now, and today, thanks to a very good night sleep, I have had a very productive day so far, which reminded me of a post I wrote a couple years ago. 

So in an attempt to keep my readers, and maybe make you laugh a little bit, even if you've read it before I thought I would re-post this: 

    My youngest baby is 7 months old.  Usually, by this time my babies are sleeping soundly through the night (something that has always annoyed many of my friends).  But this little guy just doesn't want to sleep more than 3 or 4 ours at a time!  I think there are a combination of factors contributing to our little problem: I haven't been as diligent scheduling him as I was with the others and allow him to nurse all the time; we are so much busier than we have ever been; the 8 of us live in a two-bedroom house and by default he is still our roommate.  Or maybe he doesn't think he gets enough attention during the day so he figures if he keeps me up at night we'll get more quality time (not a bad survival technique for a sixth man).

               After more than a week of waking up every 2 or 3 hours I found myself less than cheerful.  That's actually a huge understatement, I have been grumpy and mean and depressed, unmotivated and overwhelmed.  I started thinking postpartum depression was hitting me really late, next I convinced myself I was pregnant again, which I of course obsessed about until 2 pregnancy tests assured me that was not the case.  Then I had a night where I got 7 glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep!  Suddenly, the world was a better place, I was kind again, everything looked better, sounded better, smelled better!

              This got me thinking: Everything is better when you are sleeping; allow me to give a few examples:

                   Screaming Toddlers Fighting Over Every. Little. Thing.
With Sleep:  You gently diffuse the situation, distract, encourage or join in the play and quietly teach them to play together. It drives you crazy but you find yourself praying through the frustration and getting past the moment.

Without Sleep: You unsuccessfully resist the urge to join in the yelling; you rip toys out of hands and threaten to throw every toy they own in the trash, or you lock yourself in the bathroom just to gain enough composure to go back and deal with the situation in a way that will not inspire your neighbors to call CPS.

                   Dirty Dishes, Piles of Laundry, Dirty Floors
With Sleep: You tackle a little at a time throughout the day, finding you have energy to approach each task with cheerfulness, and can even leave a few tasks undone in order to play with the children. You come up with games to get the kids involved and at the end of the night it doesn't look so bad; it's not clean but it's livable.

Without Sleep: You cuss at your husband in your head for not helping you more (even though you know he helps a lot); you scrutinize over every piece of laundry convinced that your kids threw it in the hamper without even wearing it; you feel like a complete failure and convince yourself that your kids will grow up needing countless hours of therapy, and be clinically diagnosed with OCD as a reaction to what a pig sty their house was growing up.

                    Natural Family Planning (Your Sex Life)
With Sleep: You thank God for the beautiful gift of marital love; you marvel at how kind and good it is of God to give you a cycle you can track and you feel optimism when you think about your future with all the kids God wants to give you.  You find you don't recoil when your husband touches you, and you think about how much better sex gets the longer you are married.

Without Sleep: You get dressed as fast as possible, in the bathroom or closet, making sure your husband doesn't see you naked because even though you can't imagine he could find you attractive right now you're pretty sure he would want to have sex if he saw you.  Your husband looks at you with that familiar glance and you want to scream "you want part of me too! All I want is to watch TV or read a book without someone needing something from me for five minutes!" You can't make heads or tails of your stupid cycle and you cry thinking about the possibility of having another baby and resolve that the only sure way to avoid this is to Never. Have. Sex. Again.

                    Body Image

With Sleep: You're never completely happy with the way you look, but you feel good about the progress you're making losing the baby weight, or maintaining the weight you are.  You are making good food choices and working out and you figure you're doing your best and you're grateful for your health.  You look at your stomach knowing it will never again regain it's former glory but thank God that your children are the reason it looks the way it does, and you know it was totally worth it.  

Without Sleep: You cry every time you have to put something on that doesn't have an elastic waist and imagine how much happier you were before these little creatures completely destroyed your body (even though you know all you could think about was how much happier marriage and family would make you and you didn't care if it meant you couldn't be skinny anymore).  You figure you're going to be fat forever, and will probably just get pregnant again in 5 minutes so you might as well eat that third brownie, or make the really cheesy enchiladas for dinner again because somehow the smell of them in your kitchen makes you feel better. You compare yourself to every other woman you know and convince yourself that you are the only one who really needs to lose weight and that God must hate you because you have the metabolism of an 80 year old. 

I think I've made my point.  So for all the sleep deprived mothers out there, know you are not alone and for God's sake go take a nap! 

Why on EARTH do we Take our Children to Church Every Sunday?

Do you ever ask yourself this question?

Here's what our Sunday routine usually looks:

MUST get moving by 7:45 or we WILL be late. Get up, make breakfast and then force kids to eat breakfast even though they would rather watch cartoons. Find nice clothes for everyone. Yes, I should lay these out the night before, but that only ends up happening one week a month. The big boys can get dressed themselves but one of them always comes out in two very nice items that completely offend the human eye when paired together. He must change and must do it while making sure I feel the full impact of the injustice that I am making him change again.   Change three dirty diapers, throw away another nasty pull-up (my poor kids come from a long line of bed-wetters so we will be keeping Pull Ups and Good Nights in business for the next 15 years). Then wrestle the unbelievably acrobatic one-year-old into something suitable and hope that once I get all those god-forsaken snaps finished he will not just poop again. Now I must listen to my four-year-old-tomboy-stuck-between-five-brothers cry over the infringement of her personal rights as I wrestle her into a dress. Then I fix her hair, usher everyone else into the bathroom where daddy combs hair and oversees teeth-brushing.  Okay, 10 minutes to spare...oh wait, I'm not dressed.

Once we all pile into the alluring 12 passenger van we say a quick prayer of thanks that once again we have made it this far and if we hurry, get dropped off at the door, and push past the priest before he proceeds to the altar we might all get a seat.

As if this harrowing adventure hasn't been enough, now we have to sit through an hour long church service.

I cannot remember the last time I actually heard a mass, or felt even remotely present. Even if I am fortunate enough to stay in, or near my seat, I am constantly looking behind me, beside me, in front of me to make sure the baby doesn't crawl away, the two-year-old doesn't start hitting someone and stop the 4 and 5 year old before they make telescopes out of their song sheets, or worse fashion them into some kind of stick to flog each other with (unless of course it's during the Penitential Act in which case they are obviously just inducing discomfort as an outward sign of their repentance).

I try to at least kneel and close my eyes during the Consecration but that usually lasts about .5 seconds because it is nearly impossible to kneel while holding two little humans. Or even more frequently, one of the children waits until this pinnacle moment to completely melt down, scream and all-together lose it so that I can make the long walk from the back row (since this is the only place we could get a seat) all the way to the narthex while the steadfast faithful attempt to pray in spite of the echoing evidence of our sinful and contumacious nature. I am doing them the favor of reminding them that we are all fallen while God takes the opportunity to create in me just a little more humility in case I thought I was not in need of his grace every waking moment.

During the "peace" we must attempt to keep some semblance of order as they find the liberty to speak overwhelmingly appealing and think this is a good time to start telling me all the things they've been holding in for 35 minutes...or as they take the opportunity to kick their brother while smiling and saying "peace be with you."

The final adventure is of course the communion line. This is when I want to be most present as I never want to forget that this is my Lord, body, blood soul and divinity and he is here to fill my soul. So I attempt to meditate on this at least briefly while I carry one or two people, and corral two others making sure their arms are crossed and they're not going to pull a fast one and accidentally open their mouths.

Shew! Now we just have two more songs and maybe an announcement and then "Thanks be to God" we can go in peace, and if it's the first of the month we'll get donuts!

Now, don't you feel refreshed, fulfilled and spiritually replenished?

So, why do we do it?

1. Because we are commanded to do it. Simply put, sometimes the best motivator is that we have to do it. God commanded it, the Catechism reiterates it and we just plain need to go.

2. Because Christ is really there.  The reason we are commanded to go is because Jesus promises to show up every time and He wants to see us. We NEED the Sacraments. Our SOULS need them and so even if we have to take our bodies (or the bodies of lots of others) kicking and screaming it is the best thing we can do for our souls.

3. We have to set the example.  I know some people split up so that they don't all have to go at the same time and that is certainly okay to do. I have always been insistent that we all go, all together and that we don't leave babies at home.  This is not because I am super holy but because I think, like meals, it is something I want my children to look back on and remember us always doing as a family. If we want our children to grow up and be adults that attend mass, and better yet, take their children with them, then we have to take them to mass, and better that they never remember a time when they weren't there.

4. It gets easier. To all you wonderful warrior mommy's and daddy's whose children are all under 5, hang in there!! It really does get easier and they really do learn to sit still and participate in mass.  While wrestling with my 4, 2, and 1 year old I often find great hope and joy when I look over and see the 9 year old actually praying and saying the liturgy and kneeling after communion because he knows Jesus is with him. Some Sundays are certainly better than others but ultimately one of the primary things we am trying to cultivate in my children is a relationship with Christ and that begins at mass.

5. It's a nice reminder that you are not alone. I love our church and all the dozens and dozens of babies making noise and crying while they're there.  Even on the Sundays where I don't hear the homily, could not tell you what the gospel reading was, and don't know what color vestments the priest had on, I leave feeling refreshed because I am reminded that we are all the body of Christ, and we fight through these tough years together.  When you live in a world that doesn't understand you, that mocks the decisions you make on a daily basis, and you have an enemy that is hell-bent on discouraging, frustrating and destroying you, it is important to be reminded that you are not alone!

6. The children are the Church. For all you Gen Xers out there, Whitney wasn't kidding when she said the children are our future. They are the church. They are the life of the church and it's hope of continuing another 2000 years. Our culture is so loud, so busy and frantic it will go a very long way that our children learn to be still and silent for an hour a week ( and even better if we find a way to cultivate this silence in other ways in our homes). I hope you belong to a parish that welcomes children and babies, but if you are fighting the good fight and forced to a cry room every week, just remember that Jesus asked the children to come to him so go to communion even with that baby screaming because Jesus asked you to bring him and wants to give you the grace to keep coming.

7. You will encourage and bless others.  One of my favorite things about mass is all the smiles and understanding nods we get from people as we file in, file out, trade babies and walk swiftly with screaming toddlers. They encourage me with their knowing glances and smiles, and so often we are a sight of joy and encouragement to people as well: to young adults who don't have children yet, but you can see the longing and anticipation in their eyes, to people with one or two little children who love to see someone surviving with more than 2 because it encourages them that it's possible.  My favorite are the older couples who find you after mass to tell you how many children they had, and how wonderful it was, and how fast it went, and how much they miss when the children were young. It's a reminder to us all that life is fleeting, and that time goes too quickly.

We make all kinds of sacrifices for our children. We pack their schedules and cart them all over town, going to great lengths to make sure they are balanced and happy and entertained. Our greatest efforts should be put forth to form their souls, to remind them that they have a creator who wants to have a relationship with them, who loves them and who created them for something.  

And that is why, in 6 days we will do it all again.

Grateful for Life, Grateful for Babies

Today I am grateful.

We bought our very first house yesterday, something I honestly never thought would happen. I think of all the years in our 1000 square foot home, as baby after baby came and paycheck after paycheck remained the same. I think of all the times we said yes to life and wondered where on earth the little miracle was going to sleep.  I love the memories I carry with me from that house, right down to the super drafty windows and creaky 100 year old floors.   I remember asking ourselves if we were inviting CPS into our home by putting five kids in one bedroom. I remember thanking God for the amazingly generous attitude of our teenager who lived with a sheet as a door for way too long. 

We moved out of that house about 18 months ago. We quite providentially found this wonderful rental that seemed designed just for us.  My ever-generous and selfless mother agreed to move in with us so that we could afford to live here while we figured out our finances enough to determine what kind of house we could actually afford. I remember the anxiety I felt moving here, thinking I would love it too much and have to let it go. The gift of space was life changing, adding 1700 sq ft to the 1000 we had grown accustomed to. All I could do every day was ask that God let us keep it!  Finally, I calmed down a little and about 6 months ago resolved to be content even if we had to downsize, but kept believing God for a miracle that He would make a way to make this house our home. 

I will spare you all the details, but thanks to God's amazing faithfulness, parents and grandparent's generosity, and a gracious previous owner we were able to buy the house, and the miracle is we can actually afford to keep it!  There is of course the looming anxiety of the realities of ownership, but thankfully my husband is incredibly handy and after living in a house nearly a century old, we can make due in less than perfect conditions. 

I am of course overwhelmingly grateful for the space, the physical house itself, but I find that I am most grateful for the people that fill the rooms.

 I am so thankful for my faith, for this beautiful misunderstood Church and her beautiful misunderstood teachings. Teachings that prompted us to be open to life when the world, and even family and friends, told us we were crazy.  I am so glad that we didn't let our tiny house keep us from having another baby, and another, and another.  And I am so glad that God is always true to His word and that he always provides for those who love and obey him. Granted I didn't always appreciate his timing, and there were days when I felt like I would lose my mind, as I was literally covered in children, but somehow God brought us through it. None of our children would say that have had to go without and all of them that remember the old house know that God provided them with all this new space! 

On this the anniversary of Roe v Wade I feel inept to express the magnitude of our culture's selfishness, our inability to be horrified that 55 million babies have been murdered in 41 years. I feel helpless and inadequate when I rack my brain and consider how to be more active in the pro-life movement.  And the Holy Spirit often reminds me that our family is a giant poster for life.  Last night we went out to dinner to celebrate the house.  Anytime we go out to eat we draw attention to ourselves. They have to set up a table to accommodate us, surrounding patrons usually moan when we get sat next to them, and then our opportunity to be a witness for life begins. Thankfully, our children usually do a fabulous job as little witnesses to life (they of course hear the same pep talk before entering any restaurant which basically ends in "let's not have people thanking God they don't have any kids because of us"), and on top of the stares we usually receive many smiles and even compliments, not because they are perfect but because they are obviously wanted and treasured, by us and by each other. 

I was reading these reflections of our dear pope today and again feeling so grateful that we have been given the gift of understanding. We are all blind and lost fools in need of God and I marvel at the light and understanding that my merciful Savior has imparted to me and my husband, and the gifts those truths render.  I think of all those who bravely accept the life of a baby, even when they know it will be taken from them and then stand as a testament to life by sharing the remarkable God-given vision that comes from that kind of suffering and loss. My life is so easy! God has given me 7 beautiful, healthy children and has not asked me to suffer the unspeakable pain of letting one of them go.  A dear friend of mine just wrote a book about her experience of dealing with a terminally ill child and again I am reminded that the true gift of life is so much more than just accepting it when we want it.  That is what he is calling us to; big family or small, he is calling us to accept life as He gives it. 

It is so easy to feel defeated by this culture of death and selflessness but if we allow ourselves to see the sacred gift of life in those around us, young, old, sick, dying, and healthy perhaps we will make more decisions based on the sacredness of life and less on the comforts of a temporary world.  This certainly does not mean that the only way to do this is to have a dozen kids! My husband and I believe that God has very clearly called us to have a large family and as God always does for those that follow their vocations he has supplied us with immeasurable amounts of grace to do it.  For some it will be a smaller family and a more active role in the Pro Life movement, for some it will be handling the cross of infertility with dignity and grace, for some it will be adoption, for others it may be caring for a dying parent. Above all we are called to love and protect life, to treasure it, in all it's stages as a gift. 

I am grateful. 

I am grateful for this house, these five bedrooms, and most of all I am grateful that God has allowed us to fill those bedrooms.  Even though for now, we believe God is asking us to wait a little while, I am grateful that He may not be done filling those bedrooms and crazy or not, we will never be the ones to tell him to stop. 

Free Will, Choices, and The Business of Letting Go

I have been thinking a lot lately about the choices we make and how they effect the direction our life takes. I look back on some of my choices and diversions and wonder how on earth I ended up in such a happy and fulfilled life.

It all really makes me marvel at the generosity of God.

Free will is a tricky thing and theologians have pondered it's repercussions for centuries. Why does he allow us to make terrible decisions? Why does he allow those decisions to hurt other people? Why doesn't he stop us when we are headed for disaster?

I have seen new glimpses of God's wisdom lately as my husband and I navigate the parenting of a young adult on the cusp of her future. It is a daily exercise of letting go. A constant reminder that God has given her a free will and our responsibility to her as her parents, at this stage in her life, is to let her use it. She will make bad decisions. She will hurt people. She will hurt us. She might lose opportunities and blow chances, she will be short-sighted, and selfish, and lazy.

In other words she will do all the things I did when I was 18.

But if we hover too much, if we micro-manage every decision and shield her from consequences she may never know how wonderful she is, how talented, and kind, and generous, and insightful, and incredibly brave and strong.

There are days when I grow weary of the constant sacrifice my life requires. Yesterday I spent my whole day chasing a two-year-old around with a bowl hoping he would vomit into it instead of vomiting on the couch, or the rug, or me.  Then I fed dinner to a group of picky eaters, held a teething baby until he fell asleep, signed homework folders, bathed little bodies, diapered 3 bottoms and played cards with older kids until bedtime. Finally my husband and I sat down together and all we could talk about was money and the fact that there is never enough of it, and this month will be tight but we can do it.  Thankfully, we also laughed, and shared a glass of wine, and thanked God we were poor together. I do grow weary at times, and sometimes I even imagine that if I had pursued my education further, or taken this job or that one, that things would be easier somehow, but then I recognize every good and perfect gift in my life right now and wouldn't be willing to trade it or give it up for anything.

As I watch our daughter navigate these years of her life I am reminded of all the stupid decisions I made, all the short sighted impulsive things I did, the naive way I conducted myself and I remember thinking in the midst of it all that I had everything under control.  Then I am reminded of the wisdom and selflessness of my mother as she allowed me to make decisions, to feel consequences (good and bad) and to find my way.  I realize that the best thing we can do for our daughter is to really let her go. Let her succeed. Let her fail. Let her live.  If you had asked me what I wanted to be when I was her age I would have said "famous." It makes me laugh now! I had no idea what I actually wanted aside from a few core things:

I knew I wanted to be loved
I knew I wanted to be married
I knew I wanted to be a mother
I knew I wanted to be useful.
I knew I wanted to follow the will of God.

When I talk to her about what she wants she expresses many of the same things.  And so I realized we can relax, because she desires the right things. She wants to be obedient to God and that is all he requires: our willingness to obey, our desire to please him.  We have done our best to cultivate virtue in her and that is what will bring her through the hardships and joys of life.

God took my vague desires and turned it into a really beautiful life.  He took my overwhelming need to be loved and gave me the most perfect partner for this life, perfect far beyond my own imaginings.  He took my desire to be a mother and blessed me exponentially, not just with 7 children, but with the supernatural generosity of spirit it takes to be open to each one of them, and the humility it takes to do my daily work knowing that he covers all my failures.

I am so grateful for the unexpected gift of our daughter. God knew my life would not be complete without that little 5 year-old-girl who stole my heart before her daddy did.  I am grateful for the unexpected blessings even if they come with unexpected pain sometimes. Watching her grow up makes me realize that I really won't be changing diapers and following toddlers with puke bowls forever. One day I will say this house is too quiet (imagine that!) as we let them each go one at a time and watch them navigate that pesky free will as they look for God's plan and purpose for their life.

At the end of the day, even the days where I watch the time go in slow motion and count the minutes until it's appropriate to pour myself a drink, I am unspeakably grateful for this life.

A Prayer From A Tired Mama

Dear Lord;

Things aren't going so well today. I have already lost my patience several times and the sun isn't even up.

Give me your patience today.
When I look into their eyes, let me see what you see.
When they're screaming in my face, let me love like you love.
When I am wiping another bottom, let me serve how you served.
When they throw their lunch on the floor and complain, let me find a way to fill their bellies without resentment.
When they fight and scream, let me stop and play and solve problems in patient way, in a way that says "I have time for you."
When they ruin my work, and slow me down, and unfold my laundry let me stop and show them that work is a gift not a burden and they are a help to mommy, not a nuisance.
Give me creative, practical things to do with them because my mind is too tired, and my ego too fragile to look for ideas on Pintrest.
Help me prepare them for the coming of your Son.
Help me remember that Jesus came to us as a baby, that he was the age of my children once and when I love them, I love that beautiful Savior.
Remind me that Mary, my Mother is here for me when I have no perspective on how quickly this time really goes.
Remind me that time is a thief and one day I will look back on these days with wonder, longing for a little one to place on my lap, or a baby to nurse.
Help me humble myself and call on Mary and her Beloved Son for help.
Help me see my children today.
Help me see you in them today.
Help me serve the least of these because that is what you have called me to do today and always.

And when I feel the anger and frustration welling up inside of me, when I want to raise my voice, or my hand, remind me that these beautiful children are a precious gift from my loving Savior and help me extend to them the same Grace, Patience, Understanding, Mercy and Love that I so desperately need from you and from others every day of my life.

Amen