Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us-

Where is my brain on this third day of November? It's in a minefield. 

I've managed to squish two major life events into this month and I thought one would help the other and I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Well, I definitely did, but I'm hoping the Lord will just keep moving me in the right direction. In three days, I'll be running another marathon out of state. Nevermind I haven't properly trained. Nevermind my knees are feeling wonky after a two mile walk. I have to run 26.2 miles very soon. Mentally, I am elsewhere.

I spent the day-- no, literally all day-- filling out paperwork so that we could get our emergency visas to India to go pick up our daughter who is officially ours on paper! The process was tedious and time consuming and very involved. It was hard to focus with the children running around, tending to piano lessons, meal prep, and trying to do school in some way today. I have no idea if I did it properly, but I turned it in and now I wait.

It feels like that time I signed up to take the GRE on the very weekend that my other half deployed to Iraq. Spoiler alert: Not the best decision.

Tomorrow we'll have a call with our agency regarding travel and timelines and all of this would be so much easier if we miraculously got her birth certificate, passport, and our visas in the meantime. These are our last obstacles in being with our fifth child.

When I close my eyes to sleep at night, I picture holding her for the first time. Will she be scared? Indifferent? Will I feel like home to her eventually? 

I've never seen her smile. In all the videos and pictures we've been sent of her life, there have never been visibly happy ones. We have a lot of firsts ahead of us. Tomorrow is her birthday. She will be two years old. Obviously, I wanted to be with her before this day. I want to know her. I want to be the one who meets her needs. The only reason this is all possible is because of a whisper that I heard from God back in college that got stronger and stronger until the message was loud and clear and I could hear nothing else. It has been two years since that day. It's almost as if on the day of her birth that God was letting me know she was out there and I better get started trying to find her. That's what this girl means to me. She is a good and perfect gift that James 1:17 references. I know we're embarking on hard, messy times but we're walking with the God of the Universe and there's nowhere else I'd want to be.

My race. Our adoption. Let's go finish what was started!

"...Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus..." (Hebrews 12:1-2)

When The Music Stops

There's a colorful, beachy hammock hanging between the two large trees in my backyard. It's almost offensive as it sways there in the infrequent breeze. It almost looks like I could walk outside and have the sun warm my skin as I stretch out in the hammock with a good book and my bare feet. It's cold, though and my babies are inside, avoiding the plague.

I have had more than a few people encourage me that brighter days are on the horizon and I know that they are, but I've got to be happy in this season. I told Jordan the other day that I was a summer mom and it's true. I enjoy leaving the house with all the kids to go for a swim or a hike. I like to plan outings to the zoo, the aquarium, museums, or other germ-filled hangouts that I'm currently trying to avoid because the flu epidemic is a serious problem in our area. The kids haven't been to school in over a week due to school closures and their own battles with influenza. I'm a summer mom because we are outside people and I send the kids out to play as soon as their eyes open. I can't do that today without pouring a lot of effort into bundling them up and I'm certainly not open to doing that before I've had my coffee.

Yes, I'm a summer mom.

I have this old music box. It's hand-painted, made in Germany. My grandparents probably brought it home to me on their travels or it's left over from when my mom spent some years there thanks to Army life. Abe wound it up and brought it to me with wonder in his eyes. And as the music slows, he becomes a little more intrigued. The miracle is that he can hear it. The anticipation builds, like he wants to experience all of it, hear every last note until the knob stops winding and the music comes to a slow halt. I get it. I've loved music boxes since I was a little girl. When the music is done, there's that satisfaction that comes with something finished- a book, a song, a thought. The same is true for this winter. I'm listening to the music play and I'm enjoying it as much as I possibly can. We're stuck at home, but I have four healthy kids who are running around playing superheroes and building magnet towers. They have snot running down their faces, but they aren't laid up in bed, very ill. I didn't have to search frantically for childcare when school was cancelled, but instead I was relieved to know that I could shield my kids here at home for a few more days. The sweet music is playing through the halls of our house and I'm listening. Soon enough, the song (and season) will be over.

Then something new will begin.

Mom Set Free

I'm clean today. When I move my hair just a little bit until it falls over my face the result is intoxicating. Soap. I actually smell like soap. It's an amazing feeling-- to be doing my mom thing WHILE also being clean. That's rare. And if you don't know why that's so amazing to me then instead of labeling me a gross individual just be happy for me instead, ok? It's a big day.

My last facial came from the draining of boxed macaroni as the steam hit my face on the heavy pour. I'm painting my nails as I karate kick shoes out of the dog's mouth, attempting to ignore multiple requests for yet MORE snacks, and wondering if my children will ever go to school again (only slightly dramatic on this third day off of the week). It's a crazy house here, but it's good, ya know? I DO like this life. It's hard, but it's amazing to be given the blessing of raising these four individuals. I've really been trying to embrace my role at home and not just thinking of it as temporary. Sometimes I look forward to a time when I'm not changing diapers constantly or adjusting an ill fitting sock before the waterworks start. Again. For the love.

Instead, I'm trying to recognize that my role in servanthood doesn't end when my children are grown. It's a role that God has given to me. I serve Him through it, but I also am able to serve others through it. When my children are grown, I'll have grandchildren to help. There will always be plenty of ways to serve, now and then. But the biggest thing that has plagued me with stepping into (Okay, being thrown into....in the deep end) motherhood was the feeling of not being very good at it. It's true, I'm selfish. I like my alone time to think or shower or run. My mom look lacks much to be desired. My kids don't bat an eye if I tell them to do something in public, knowing full well I'll probably avoid a scene instead of sticking to my guns about what I told them because of my drastically introverted approach to life. I don't always feel like I'm doing much right in parenting my little ones. Still, I've known and tried to focus on the fact that God gifted me with these little loves and therefore gifted me with four huge opportunities for growth in His name.

Just yesterday before the snow started, I took everyone for haircuts. There are many events I try to avoid at all costs, but it has dawned on me lately that I'm not really doing them any favors by not participating in these. The regular service at church. The grocery store. Places like that where they just need to learn how to act. This is why I found myself at the dentist during nap time with my crew just last week. Another big mistake, but that's a story for another day. We were talking about the haircut trip, weren't we? It was nowhere near as bad as the time the three year old sent a gal to the hospital when the scissors slipped and she cut herself, but still it wasn't good. The same darling three year old decided he was not, in fact, getting a haircut that day and was quite rude insisting that he wouldn't do it. I'm all about natural consequences and I knew this would be a good time to let that play out because if he didn't get a haircut, he didn't get a sucker. WoooooWeeee! I ended up dragging him out with the baby on my hip and all eyes on me. Not to mention the two big boys practically pro wrestling in the parking lot with giggles, suckers, and fresh new looks on their precious heads. Before, I would have been mortified.

But lately, I've realized that I am free from all of that. Of course, as parents we are to instruct our children in the way they should go, but ultimately Jesus is the one who saves them from the sin that is rampant in their lives. Nothing I do as a mother (or don't do) makes God love me or them any less. I'm His daughter. He chose me. I delight Him*. Just that little reminder completely changed my afternoon. I no longer cared to be judged by the people who witnessed the Day At The Barber Shop. It didn't matter! God has given me these children and He doesn't make mistakes. He knows me. He loves me. Isn't that an amazing feeling to be known? In the time of superficial connections on Facebook and pseudo mom support groups, it feels so comforting to be seen in my service by the King of Kings.

If you struggle with this topic of not feeling enough, I have many reading suggestions for you, but you should start with this one. I really enjoyed it and it is book one out of twenty I plan on reading this year. Also, those cookies? They were just two out of ten I plan on eating tonight. 

I mean, what else do you do on a snow day?

(* see Ephesians 1:4-5, Galatians 4:5, Zephaniah 3:17)

Perfecting Tools

Gatlinburg Fire 2016

Sometimes...MOST times God doesn't come to us in a way we'd expect. I know that some people appear to have been on the same pew at church since the day they were born. It may seem as if God speaks to them in quiet Bible studies with friends at a local coffee shop or during major milestones in their lives, the happy ones. I know that He can and often does bend down to us in those ways, but I just want to encourage you today if that's not exactly how you've felt His presence lately. It's only just dawned on me recently that this is not how my story is going, either. I think that's okay. I was not a good mother today. I wasn't even a good person.  Before you say, "Oh, she's just being hard on herself", please let it sink in that I was demonstrating all of the behaviors I try so hard to prune out of my children. I was easily angered. Shouting over trivial things. Honestly, whole-heartedly annoyed at our home life. Typing all of these, convicts me yet again. To reset, I had to just get outside and see the beauty of His creation and remember what I was trying to accomplish in bringing up my children. When we think of Jesus, thoughts often drift toward the healer that He was- how He made the lame to walk and the blind see. We know that He could just speak and problems would fade away. What we don't always remember is that Jesus didn't always work in that way. We don't have to look far to know that He doesn't always work in that way now, either. Do you remember the story of Paul when he was stoned, beaten half to death, but he marched back into town to share God's word (see Acts 14)? What about the story of the three young men thrown into the fiery furnace because of their faith (see Daniel 3)? These people went through the fire. Some literally, some figuratively. James 1:2-4 says, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." I don't really think that James is asking us to be joyful all the time about our sufferings, but to instead to be joyful in the hope and promise of what those trials will bring later. Paul talks about it in Romans 5, too. We have hope. As mothers we have hope. Our kids can have hope. Today my fire came in the form of wild little boys who are much louder than their mama. It blazed in my heart when x, y, and z didn't go as planned. The fire raged on in the words that were said. And it hurt. It's not always as simple as Him parting the waters. Sometimes, it needs to hurt a little. I don't always feel Him the most when I've sat down in my comfortable chair by the fire with my five trillion pretty colored markers to write down all that I'm learning in my studies. He speaks to me in other ways, too. Often, He speaks to me through the good and perfect gifts He sent me in Kinley, Abel, Merit, and Saylor. Wendy Speake co-authored a great book that I recommend called Triggers and in it, she wrote "That perfect gift, swaddled, is the perfecting tool that will bring us to maturity." There are no perfect kids, perfect homes, perfect mornings. But our Heavenly Father IS perfecting us. "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him." James 1:12 I'm so grateful for these little perfecting tools that are my children. God has used them in so many ways already and I know that He will continue to help us help each other.  So here's to you, whoever you are that is reading this now. Your life isn't perfect, but God has a perfect plan for it. Perfecting insinuates action. He's working on you through your trial at work, at home, or wherever. Right now. He hasn't abandoned you. He's in the fire, too.

Isn't This A Lovely Day

The sounds of Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, and Billie Holiday are on a continuous flow through the thin walls of my home tonight. I have poured myself a glass of white and there are no harsh overhead lights glaring on me, instead soft light twinkles from strings and lamps. The rain has ended. It's almost bedtime and it's the first time today that I've allowed the t.v. to be turned on so the boys are huddled around it. In other words, I finally have a chance to sit. It has been a full five minutes since anyone has asked me for anything and I've done nothing with that time except stare at this screen, begging for a place for my creativity and emotion to end up. It's a beautiful night here. I have mostly silence, a place to write, old enchanting music, and my husband is on his way home from his business trip. A girl can't want for much more.

Earlier today, I didn't feel as optimistic. Do you ever wonder what your children will remember? About their childhoods, I mean. When I think back on my own, I see that I have nothing but good thoughts and it scares me. It makes me wonder why I can't just get it together. The best I do every day is show my kids my own need for a savior. They see how selfish I am- daily, hourly. I'm exhausted by endless demands and even though I know I'm called to a life of service to them and others, it's often the very last thing I want to do.
Yet...
There's nothing else I want to do in the world. I get to be here to wash four curly heads at night and watch strong sibling bonds develop over belly laughs and wrestling matches. I don't have to miss them because I'm always right there by their sides. When I feel the walls of this small house closing in on me the more the children grow, I remember that one day our house will feel hopelessly quiet and empty. Soon enough, Merit won't grab my hand and kiss it, telling me "I like you so much, Mom." No, they'll all leave this little nest I've worked so hard to create and I'm afraid I'll be empty, too.
I'll mentally try to capture this fleeting moment with Merit dancing to early jazz with a mouth full of peanut butter he helped himself to. Abel is also enthralled with the music as he curls his cold toes underneath the quilt with me. He is spelling out his name with the letters on this keyboard and bobbing his head softly to the music. My deaf child! Saylor is sleeping sweetly in her pink polka dot pjs and Kinley wouldn't dare look away from some coveted screen time. It's business as usual here, but it's nice. I want for nothing.
It's just another simple night on the chestnut farm. Not much to write home about.

"Let the rain pitter patter
But it really doesn't matter
If the skies are gray
Long as I can be with you it's a lovely day"

My Arrows

"We don't become capable of developing the necessary strength in ourselves. The problem is with the placement of our eyes. When we believe we are enough-even when we feel Jesus's enough makes us enough-we're placing our eyes on ourselves, as if our abilities are top priority. On the other hand, when we acknowledge our constant need for and dependence on Him, our eyes are placed on Him, and His priorities take over." --Brooke McGlothlin (Gospel Centered Mom)

If any one picture could describe "Back to School" it's this one. We are tired. We decided to send the older boys to a school quite a bit farther away and the new routine has us a bit delirious. Motherhood is tiring any which way you spin it, though. For me, this week brought more time with my two babies. We've been to parks, read more books, cooked together, snuggled, and actually had a designated (double) nap time work out a time or two. I really like it. I just wish we were a bit closer to the school, but that's okay. We are getting into a new groove.

I'm proud of my school aged boys, too. I have a Kindergartner and a Pre-K student. Our goals for mainstreaming Abel have been set into place and we are hoping he flourishes in this environment with his typically developing peers. There have been some struggles with dragging boys out of beds in the morning, but other than that the challenges have been minimal.

I'm truly trying to remember as I cart my kiddos here and there that it's okay that I'm not a perfect mom. If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you've read the inner anxiety I have about feeling as if I'm enough for these kids. We've heard people tell us and even encourage us to repeat it mantra style, "You are enough"/"I am enough". The book I'm reading now says to look at it in a different light. I'll never be enough. I need Jesus for that. And boy, do I! The summer started out strong and I was mommin' like crazy. We went to pools, we hiked, and we played sun up to sun down. But as summers do, ungratefulness and hatefulness bred within us as we took the ability to get out for granted and brotherly rivalry turned into all out brawls over the silliest things. The summer drew to an epic close when on the very last day of summer break, I decided with the help of another questionably sane friend to load up seven of our kids (under 7) and take them to the aquarium two hours away. The day made for a cute picture or ten, but it was also another reality check-

I need Jesus. THEY need Jesus, too. In every moment. With every breath.

It's ten o'clock at night and do you know how many times I've put my three and four year old back to bed? Me either. Lost count. It's helping to write this so I can truly focus on not absolutely losing it. 

But sometimes I lose it. Sometimes I have the facade of having it all together, but underneath it's just ugly and sinful--in need of a cleansing Savior.

People give you funny looks when you take that many children that close in age to a place like that. In the kids' defense, they were pretty stinkin' good that day, really. Anyway, I had four or five of the boys at an interactive part of an exhibit and they were taking turns among one another pretty pleasantly when another child walked up with three (yes, THREE) adults with her. They stood there as the boys each got a chance to play with the submarine viewer. When the last boy was looking (in a timely matter I might add), the woman said "All she wants to do is have a turn looking at this thing, but this lady has too many kids!" 

There are moments in life where you chew on what you should have said or would have said, but all you can do is think about it because the moment has passed. With just a hint of snark in my voice, I will tell you that I said exactly what I wanted to say in that moment-"Okay boys, let's move on. This little girl's mommy wants a turn at the submarine."

I've giggled at the look on her face a time or two since then.

But when I think about that moment, my thoughts are drawn to sin and how it so easily entangles us. My reaction to her was not love, but an immediate desire to make her feel small while I held my tongue to what I really wanted to say. I mean, why would anyone want to make a child feel unwanted? Don't you dare let my kids or any kids in my care hear you say anything about how you wish there were less of them. These kids are arrows (Psalm 127:3-5). They are His handiwork. They will be His messengers, His disciples. The God of the Universe gave them to me. He doesn't make mistakes. Back off, lady.

So, it's okay. To the world, I'm definitely definitely not enough. Far from perfect. My lot is one long crazy train most days. But I get to raise these kids. Me. This selfish, prideful, tired mom was chosen for them. They are prayed over and diligently loved and corrected. And I will continue to seek God's help in doing so. What a magnificent role I have here and I thank God for it.

But if I'm truly introspective, I can see that so many times it's not the behaviors, attitudes or personality characteristics of my kids' that need attention. Instead, it's my own. These boys (and girl) were given their attributes specifically and He is making them to work for good. I can't stomp on their independence now and expect them to feel confident in themselves in other ways down the road. My job is to make them into the individuals God made them to be, not who I want them to be.

People tell me often, "I don't know how you do it."

I don't either, but I know it's by the grace of God that we get through each new week. It's an exhausting, beautifully chaotic, messy life but it's an incredible one, too. I'm thankful for a Savior who doesn't leave us, ever.

The Space in Between

It's endearing, right? The way I'm confident I'll blog weekly and how I always say to check back regularly and then months go by. The summer has been wild, y'all. We've squeezed a whole lot of living into the hours of the day and on into the night. Catching you up would be a laundry list of trails we've hiked, afternoons we've struggled through, swimming pools we've frequented, and much more. Tonight, though, I've settled into our newly constructed office with a glass of wine and a large piece of chocolate cake (because my husband is amazing and thought of me at his business dinner tonight) to write something else. I had an epiphany tonight. I have honestly been in a sour mood today. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I was annoyed. I decided that we should have a little fun this evening since Daddy would be working late and we had been home all afternoon with a sleeping, sick baby. I got everyone dressed which is a feat in itself and started loading up the car, buckling in the loves of my life. One of them, whose name shall not be mentioned, grabbed the handle and hung on it like a primate and in doing so broke the handle completely off it's hinges. There it was, dangling there. Standing between me and an evening of ice cream with my kids in hopes of pacifying them just a little bit longer. In hopes of snapping that picture perfect shot of my lot in front of my hometown ice cream shop. In hopes of pretending for just a little bit longer that I am supermom. Dream shattered, y'all. Obliterated. It's silly how incredibly often I have to take a humility pill and a reality pill. I'm reminded over and over in raising my four young children that I'm called to truth. Nothing more, nothing less. At the church we attend, we heard a lot about humility on Sunday. Bear with one another in love, stop measuring, count others as more significant than you, have self sacrificing love. Still, I need these reminders every day. 

I wish I could say I calmly told my son that it was okay and accidents happen. Instead, I angrily said we couldn't go anywhere now. I nagged him by saying, "This is why I tell you not to do that!Why don't you listen to me?" I'm reminded of me, too. Doesn't my Heavenly Father not treat me as my sins deserve? He lets natural consequences arise (my own conviction for being wrong) instead of yelling at me about how I disappointed Him (again). So many times my perspective needs to be adjusted and today was one of those times. Here comes the epiphany... Why am I assigning blame to Satan when I'm presented with difficult obstacles? For example, when I deliberately wake up early so that I can have a steaming cup of coffee in silence and study God's Word and my kids decide they'll get up early as well- Why do I say or think that Satan is trying to get me down? What if I instead looked at that situation as an opportunity for ministry? What if I looked at it as a test from God? How much would my day-to-day change? The truth is that I am human. I try diligently to brush everyones teeth, have them memorize scripture, and not raise my voice but folks, that doesn't always happen. But what I can do in those moments-like the moment of the car handle incident- is show them grace. I can say that this isn't Satan trying to get me down, but God trying to build me up to be a better mom and person. I could let them join in on my bible study. I could lovingly correct their behavior. And, like I had to do earlier, I can get down on their level and admit I was wrong in my reaction and ask them to forgive me. And they do. God love them. Difficult days come and they go. The older I get, the more I'm convinced that I'm to share that truth. Some days are the terrible, awful we learned about in The Help....and some days are perfect gifts from above...and some days are just that awkward space in between. Life happens in those days, though. The kids get a bit older, your hair grows a little longer, and you find yourself having to buy toilet paper again. In those mundane days, we still have a beautiful chance to minister. During breakfast, during diaper changes, during orange juice all over the floor--that's when we can show them Jesus.

"Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed and overflowing with gratitude." Colossians 2:6-7

Ready For Summer!

Another school year come and gone. Kinley finished up his second year at a private pre-school. I think he came into his own a little more this year, gaining some confidence and learning a lot. It's hard to believe that the little boy who made me mama five years ago will soon be walking into a new school as a kindergartner. I remember being pregnant with him and thinking that he would learn Spanish as we taught him English because naturally. Oh, that mom was cute. That mom went on to have three more kids in the next four years and now barely knows English herself. Still, I'm very proud of my oldest. He loves to be outside. He will squeeze all the daylight he can out of each day this summer.
Abel also finished up his second year at preschool. His Pre-K class has been good for him. I think he enjoys the structure and routine that school brings. Familiar faces greeted him while he attended and I think that has helped to make him feel more comfortable. His progress has jumped in the past few months and he surprises me weekly with the things he says and does. One of the goals I have had for him was to mainstream him as soon as possible. We are going to try that in the fall when he will hopefully start a mainstream pre-k with his typically developing four year old peers. I'm excited for him. I know he can do it!
I also got another year at home with my Merit. He's two now- two going on five. He wants to do everything Kinley does and certainly holds his own in brother conversations, quarrels, and joy. He thrives at being the only big boy at home when he can. We often had a few mornings each week together, just the baby, Merit, and me. I'll cherish those. He is great with chores, eager to learn, and independent. His laugh will fill up a room, but he sure does have some strong, ever-changing opinions, too. Watch out for this one. At heart, he's a good boy.

And now that the school year is over, that means my baby is almost one. I have no idea how that happened. I never knew a baby could be so sweet. Saylor's smile is contagious. I can't stop kissing her. She loves to fuss when she sees me and I'm not holding her. She loves her mama, but she won't say it. She just says "Dada" all the time. Her latest party tricks include pointing, waving and saying "hi" and "hey". I look forward to more one on one time next fall when some of the brothers filter out into their school system.

Until then, we're going to have a great summer. We kicked it off yesterday with a pool party and a few of our closest friends! I plan to document our summer here on the blog so I hope you'll come back frequently. I'm determined to not plant these kids in front of the t.v., but instead to get out and live in the sunshine!

Like a Handful of Berries

At times, the every day tasks we choose to do run together like an endless Groundhog Day. Laundry, Dishes, clean toilets, change diapers, wipe noses, repeat. It's never done yet we keep on working at it. So as my mind was on autopilot today, I walked my slipper clad feet down to the laundry room after nursing the baby for over an hour. I sleepily stretched, yawning as I opened the washer and dryer to start yet another load of laundry. When I swung open the door, something was off. What was it? Upon closer examination, I could see several very small berry-like brown balls falling out of clothes, scattered around the inside of the washing machine. I thought about how my boys adore pockets because that means they can store such treasures in them and not tell Mama about them- rocks, sticks, candy, nuts, you name it and I've probably found it stuffed into the tiny recesses of pre-school sized pockets. Part of me loves it. To see from the eyes of a child what they treasure in that moment can be special. As I began collecting each formerly red berry, now a dull brown, I began to see how sparing they actually were. There were about twenty or so and as I gathered them in my hands I thought about how many more days I would actually have with them being this small in this tiny set of pants, in those little socks, in our little house here with them right now. Soon another milestone will be reached and they'll be a little different than they were the day before. Soon I won't be finding little dead foliage from their pockets in my washer and dryer. Then what?
It's funny how a handful of berries can cause much reflection in the early morning hours of a Monday, no less. I thought back to our time in Alaska when we left the borders of our town and headed on a backpacking trip to Denali National Park to sleep at the foot of Mt. McKinley, the towering mountain my oldest is named after. We gathered bags and bags full of fresh wild blueberries on that trip that we would later make into pies, pancakes, and fresh-fruit breakfasts. Those handfuls of the best blueberries you'll ever taste slipped through our fingers pretty quickly. We spent so much time, just Jordan and me, picking those under the clouded expansive sky beside the most impressive backdrop you can imagine, and in just a little while, they were gone. We thought we had so many at our fingertips and we did, but then they were gone. Just like those few years we had together before kids. Just like those fifteen months when we had one child. Just like those few years we hopefully will get while our family is complete. Just like those old berries I pulled out of the washer this morning. How many more days will I get to do that? How many more days can I have to show my children love through service recognized or not? If I could gather them up in my hands, what would that look like?

"So I concluded that there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God." Ecclesiastes 3:12-13

5 Things I've Learned About Having a "Big" Family

Imagine my eight month old strapped to my chest in a baby carrier, her three older stair-step brothers holding hands walking into the grocery store. They choose a special car cart to use and have a brief, passionate discussion about which two boys will get to drive and who will be left to stare at my face and the back of they baby's head. Sure, we're taking up some time and space but for the most part it is managed chaos and we aren't truly inconveniencing anyone. YET..

I see the looks.

Five Things I've Learned About Having a "Big" Family

1. People assume they're paying for you in some way. Don't get behind them in the grocery store--she's probably going to use food stamps. In fact, cut in front of them. Why do they have so many kids? No lie--someone has asked me before if I needed the number to Planned Parenthood.

2. If you have a big family, you are already in someones way. Just this trip I'm walking down an aisle with my crew and someone else was, too so I moved to go around. No biggie. THEN a third woman comes out of nowhere, pretending to not see us and comes barging right through despite the fact that there's no room and I can't pick up my cart (because there are groceries and three children weighing it down) to inch it over a few. It mattered not that I was easily there first. I was in her way. I was slowing her down and she was going to passive aggressively show me. If you're going to have a big family, go ahead and prepare yourself for some folks to act like they have a say in your life in some way. Literally, my big family doesn't have an impact on you at all. Why do you care? Are you watching them for me? DEFINITELY NOT. Are you buying their diapers? Nope. Food? No. You're doing nothing for them so keep walkin'.

3.When you all go out together, someone will always ask "Are they all yours?" or they'll say "You've got your hands full." I don't mind either of these statements for the record. Sometimes I'm amazed they're all mine, too and I DEFINITELY have my hands full with them.

4. Some people will grant you a knowing nod, a twinkle in their eye, or a smile that reminds you of the great responsibility you have in raising these little people. Usually it's a sweet older lady who has been there, done that and sometimes it's a woman who doesn't have any children yet and desperately wants to mother a child. Either way, these people refresh my heart. Be these people who grant grace instead of judgment.

5.You will grow every day. It may not be in number. It probably won't be your bank account that shows growth. No, you'll be stretched thin there...but your confidence in yourself as a mother will grow. Your love for your family and the amazing way you seem to balance EVERYTHING will grow. Your appreciation for others walking this path with many kids, with various special needs, with whatever will grow. You'll be different. You'll be those people I mentioned at number four. You'll give grace.

Y'all, my kids were actually pretty great in the store today yet I felt a lot of shade thrown our way. We've got to be better about this. If you've opened your Bible at least just a little bit, you know that children are special to God. Stop holding them to impossible standards. They're learning how to act and we, as parents, are learning to parent them. And while they embarrass me daily, they make me incredibly proud, too with all the moments you don't get to see.

Thank you, Lord, for a big family full of chaos! Thank you for growth and grace. Amen.

I am a good mom.

I am a good mom. I am a good mom.

I don't always say those words to myself. I definitely don't always believe them. Sometimes I rehash in my mind all the abysmal words I've told my children in anger that day and I feel the enormous guilt because of it.

Go to your room and be quiet!

All you ever do is un-do something I've just done!

You get the picture. It's not always pretty around here and I wonder when I drag into bed at night what my problem is- why I can't just show them patience and LOVINGLY correct them instead of spouting off what I'm thinking in the moment. Some days are better than others, but I know even on the bad days that I'm a good mom and I'd be willing to bet that you are, too.

Whether you stay at home or work, you're a good mom because you're working hard for your kids. Whether you're waking up early to fix a huge breakfast spread or tossing them goldfish in the car on the way to your first appointment of the day, you're a good mom. Whether you sat down to work that puzzle on the floor or you decided not to because there were dishes to wash, you're a good mom.

I'm not even talking about the mediocrity that we tell ourselves is good enough. The feeling of barely skating by, kids having popcorn for lunch, and/or family prayer time through tears because you want them to know that you are human and you mess up, too and need forgiveness is more than good enough. You (I) may feel like I'm just surviving the day, but you're doing so much more than that.

The impact you have on your kids is priceless, long-lasting, enduring, important.

Sometimes you make cookies with them while simultaneously covering the kitchen in flour and mixed up, sticky cookie dough (b/c Abel is with Daddy, ahem) and sometimes you go get the store bought ones and skip all that (because, hello, easy!).

Sometimes you spend all day cleaning and put them in front of the t.v. to pacify.

Sometimes you get on Pinterest and create all sorts of learning activities for them to do that they'll enjoy.

Being a mom isn't just one day in the life of your kids, so why do we sometimes focus on that one bad day we had where we yelled more than we showed them love? Our job is to imitate Christ so that they will grow to know Him. It's the hardest job because we are flawed individuals, corrupt with sin. We are selfish. Angry. Prideful. But as we guide our kids, our Heavenly Father is guiding and molding us if we stay focused on Him.

The enemy will try to pull you away. He'll whisper in your ear that you're a bad mom. He'll want you to give up, but you won't...

because you're good.

"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness." ~ Proverbs 31:27

The Seesaw

Up and down, up and down goes the seesaw. Sometimes the moments of the day are uplifting- a chat with a friend on the phone, the kids have a brief moment of camaraderie, or you see the exact point in time when your kiddo figures something out for the first time. Maybe your up is that everyone is napping at the same time or at least one person says, "Thanks for making me lunch, Mom." There are ups, for sure.

But boy are there downs. This morning before I could enjoy a whole cup of hot coffee, Abel decided to poop...in the front yard. Today before I could take a shower or put myself together to tackle the day with all four kids home due to various sicknesses, I set and then waited through an entire kitchen timer only to discover that I never actually put the food in the oven to bake.

I spent the day holding my babies and trying to stay above water with all the cleaning and organizing my home begs to have. We made it through the day and each of us had a pretty good one. I was feeling confident that I balanced cleaning, parenting, and time for myself like a champ. Everyone was on the mend and things were looking up! I was up. Refreshed. Happy, even. I left to pick up some things at the store and when I returned I came home to a wailing Abel who had thrown off his cochlear implant and was signing hurt all over his body. He's getting warmer as the evening wears on and I have that pain in my chest. Heavy with worry and stress, I am down again.

Every day I walk by this plant and it reminds me of me. A little water and it perks right up and begins to appear taken care of. Then, sadly, it goes without water for a long time and begins to droop. Despite the lack of care shown to the plant, it stays alive. It holds on. It stays green. It grows even when I think there's no way it can. I see myself in the plant because I do that to myself, too. Instead of waking up and pouring Truth into my life to refresh me, I sometimes sit there and think about all the unpleasant things the day might bring. I'll live in fear- should I not have said that? What if this happens? What if that happens? Instead of living in faith that the Lord I serve loves me and this family of mine more than I do, I often focus on darker thoughts. What if Merit has Lyme Disease? What if Kinley's eye infection isn't pink eye at all? What if he's allergic to these drops? What if he's going blind? What if Abel's ear is infected again? What if it travels to his brain? What if his bionic ear fails? What if Saylor isn't even breathing in her bed right now? The weight of motherhood is crushing. I'm not called to worry, though. Quite the opposite.

I daily have to orient my beliefs to the positive. Hourly. This is the way Satan attacks me, through my thoughts. I've always struggled with anxiety. I care too much what all of you people think about me that I daily have to remind myself that it only matters what God sees. I care a great deal about this family that I worry myself into a panic attack when one of them is threatened in some way. It became a recognizable problem the first time I was postpartum and really hasn't had a chance to work its way out of my body with each passing pregnancy. It's hormones, it's circumstance, but it's the enemy, too. 

I want to highlight the good- to savor it when I see it. While tonight has been somber for me, today was good. The Lord has provided us with food-

and lots of land to play on and discover.

He gave me rare, but much needed quiet time-

and He whispered in my ear in that still small voice that I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am loved. My family is loved. Up and down. Up and down. Either way, we're all okay.

The Seesaw

Up and down, up and down goes the seesaw. Sometimes the moments of the day are uplifting- a chat with a friend on the phone, the kids have a brief moment of camaraderie, or you see the exact point in time when your kiddo figures something out for the first time. Maybe your up is that everyone is napping at the same time or at least one person says, "Thanks for making me lunch, Mom." There are ups, for sure.

But boy are there downs. This morning before I could enjoy a whole cup of hot coffee, Abel decided to poop...in the front yard. Today before I could take a shower or put myself together to tackle the day with all four kids home due to various sicknesses, I set and then waited through an entire kitchen timer only to discover that I never actually put the food in the oven to bake.

I spent the day holding my babies and trying to stay above water with all the cleaning and organizing my home begs to have. We made it through the day and each of us had a pretty good one. I was feeling confident that I balanced cleaning, parenting, and time for myself like a champ. Everyone was on the mend and things were looking up! I was up. Refreshed. Happy, even. I left to pick up some things at the store and when I returned I came home to a wailing Abel who had thrown off his cochlear implant and was signing hurt all over his body. He's getting warmer as the evening wears on and I have that pain in my chest. Heavy with worry and stress, I am down again.

Every day I walk by this plant and it reminds me of me. A little water and it perks right up and begins to appear taken care of. Then, sadly, it goes without water for a long time and begins to droop. Despite the lack of care shown to the plant, it stays alive. It holds on. It stays green. It grows even when I think there's no way it can. I see myself in the plant because I do that to myself, too. Instead of waking up and pouring Truth into my life to refresh me, I sometimes sit there and think about all the unpleasant things the day might bring. I'll live in fear- should I not have said that? What if this happens? What if that happens? Instead of living in faith that the Lord I serve loves me and this family of mine more than I do, I often focus on darker thoughts. What if Merit has Lyme Disease? What if Kinley's eye infection isn't pink eye at all? What if he's allergic to these drops? What if he's going blind? What if Abel's ear is infected again? What if it travels to his brain? What if his bionic ear fails? What if Saylor isn't even breathing in her bed right now? The weight of motherhood is crushing. I'm not called to worry, though. Quite the opposite.

I daily have to orient my beliefs to the positive. Hourly. This is the way Satan attacks me, through my thoughts. I've always struggled with anxiety. I care too much what all of you people think about me that I daily have to remind myself that it only matters what God sees. I care a great deal about this family that I worry myself into a panic attack when one of them is threatened in some way. It became a recognizable problem the first time I was postpartum and really hasn't had a chance to work it's way out of my body with each passing pregnancy. It's hormones, it's circumstance, but it's the enemy, too. 

I want to highlight the good- to savor it when I see it. While tonight has been somber for me, today was good. The Lord has provided us with food-

and lots of land to play on and discover.

He gave me much needed quiet time-

and He whispered in my ear in that still small voice that I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am loved. My family is loved. Up and down. Up and down. Either way, we're all okay.

Mission Field

"As women who work hard to serve others day and night, we tend to forget that we have this opportunity because of God's mercy on us. From children underfoot or away at school to the ladies we disciple and witness to in the workplace and community, our nurturing work is a gift. We all have a need to repent of our feelings of entitlement. We do not deserve to be used by God. We do not deserve to be ambassadors of Christ in our homes, workplaces, neighborhoods, or generations. We do not deserve to be given spiritual gifts with which to serve the church. We do not deserve to be included in God's mission to the world, period. Yet, it pleases Him to include us." 

- Gloria Furman via Missional Motherhood

Because my crew is young, four of them seems like a lot. I get it. It is a lot for me to handle, for sure. But because there are so many of them that can't tie their shoes (or put them on for that matter!), I get many questions from people out in town. One of the most popular ones is "How do you do it?" The short answer is: I don't know. 

I really don't. By 9am, so many unthinkable things have already popped up in my day that I find this discontent and anger bubbling up that this is my job right now. Potty training. Picky eaters. Spit up. Screaming as communication. Silly screaming competitions with brothers. LOUDNESS. Forget trying to accomplish something. This is why the laundry stays piled up and only necessary cleaning gets done. There are many times I spend my days wondering if I'm even making a positive difference in their lives or if they feel I'm an emotionless presence that either bends to their will or enforces mean (in their mind) rules. All it takes to turn the day around is a visit to God's word, though. Who am I that He chose me for them? Who am I to be good enough to be on this missionfield for God? This. These kids. They're my CALLING. I didn't envision this for myself, but God did and He chose me specifically. That's how I do it. I was created for it and I'm up for the challenge--for this blessing.

I still spend nap time begging for sleep...and actual patience (NOT opportunities to be patient. I have plenty of those!)...and for my thoughts to be of Him and this mission...a change in my thoughts and therefore my attitude....and for my words to be life giving.

This is hard.

But one day, I'm going to wake up and they won't need me as much. They'll unbuckle themselves and get out of the car on their own. They will bathe themselves. They'll talk. They'll communicate. They'll drive themselves to their appointments. They'll go off to college and leave me. And the thought of a quiet house that seems so amazing to me right now, might just leave me in tears because these pieces of my heart will walk out into the world on their own and go in different directions. I just hope they will take a piece of me with them. That they will see Jesus in me somehow. That they will chase after Him when they leave here. That's what I'm doing.

Sleepless in Tennessee

Historically, when I'm awake in the middle of the night blogging, I'm in active labor and don't quite know it. Let's hope that's not the case here. I just was tossing and turning in bed after Abel screaming for the last few hours and decided my thoughts couldn't turn back off until I got this off my chest. It doesn't matter that I'm tired on every level. Exhausted physically and especially mentally. I have to write through this tonight because I feel so desperate for respite for me and this family.

As Abe gets older he's becoming more challenging. He is 3.5 years old now and should be gaining vocabulary and communication skills. His hearing age is 18 months and he communicates on that level. Sometimes he seems to be slightly behind that level. Merit (19 months old) has begun to surpass him in spoken and receptive language and maybe this is why this is bothering me so much lately. It's in my face every day. I see it. Can't ignore it. I have twins-- twenty months apart.

It was at this age with Kinley that I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel in regard to explosive tantrums, behavioral issues, and regulating his frustrations. Sure, he has his days but with an expanding vocabulary, it became easier for him to express himself more appropriately. Abel seems to be headed in the opposite direction. His fits are almost a personality trait at this point and I spend my days at the end of my rope. He can be perfectly happy and raging mad in the same 15 second time span. It's as if he forgets that he can choose a word, a gesture, or anything to help get his point across. He resorts to bulging eyes, immediate tears, flailing on the ground kicking and screaming. All in a matter of seconds. His screams are all day long for me and they filter into the night, too. He can't stay asleep and he wakes up crying frequently. He vacillates between screaming and moaning in the middle of the night and we are all left in a sleep deprived state throughout the week. Nothing seems to comfort him at night. There's nothing we can do. He just cries. Of course, to me, this is so stressful. I hear it all the time. It also leaves me with plenty of time to think about what else might be going on in his little body and mind. My heart aches for one thing, ANY thing to be easy for him, but right now all I can see is the struggle. 

You know what strangers see? They see another child who can't behave. They see another lazy parent who can't control her children. I see it all over their faces when we go out to eat. I see their eye rolls, their whispers, their stares. My reaction goes one of two ways. The stress of the day (this life) closes in on me and I lose it in a puddle of tears OR I plaster my game face on with a smile and try to ignore the helplessness I feel in all of this. Is excessive crying a form of torture training? If so, I have a lot of experience. A lot.

I'm so tired and in desperate need of your prayers for him, for me, for this family. Thanks again for listening. I think I wanted to write this out for catharsis, but also for documentary purposes and in the chance that another cochlear implant preschooler parent happens this way to my corner of the web and finds a commonality here. I haven't lost hope that this is just another phase. I still cling to the notion that one day, Abel's struggles will be that the girl he wants to date is uninterested or he didn't make the varsity basketball team... and his lack of speech, sleep problems, and health concerns will all be a distant memory.

Why do you share online so much?

I used to be annoyed to view everyone's highlight reel on Facebook. Greaaaaat. You have an awesome, fit body. Your kitchen is sparkling. Your kids are reciting scripture and Spanish. You have the best job ever. You are traveling...again. But today I get it. You probably aren't saying, "Look at me! I have my life together!" If you're like me, you're actually saying, "Look! This tiny part of my life is going well today." It's amazing when you have several small children at home how your goals and accomplishments morph from big, lofty goals to YAY, I THREW SOMETHING IN THE CROCKPOT AND MY KIDS ARE BATHED! I'm beginning to see that you aren't trying to build yourself up with your selfie; you are, in a sense, probably saying here's my life right now and it's worth documenting. I know that's how I feel when I snap a photo of some workout I accomplished or if my kids are playing together and not fighting- by all means snap that because it will be gone before you know it! Growing up, I was an avid journal writer. As I got older and technology advanced, blogging soon took the place of my pen and paper. Now, I hardly find time to sit down at this old dusty keyboard at all because if I do, the kids will be playing in the fireplace ashes in no time (Yes, this has happened twice in the last week). Facebook and Instagram have become a type of journal for me, like it or not. My life is spelled out in a few sentences a day or a caption on a photo. On particularly hard days when the kids have finally drifted off to sleep, I can crack open my accounts and look back with gratitude on how far we've come. I can see the good things that my kids are doing, that I'm doing. I remember and I focus on that.

If you could see me right now, I'm doing the Disney channel chopper dance as my little Merit looks at me saying, "no, no, no, no!" and starting to cry. Abel smells suspiciously like throw up and I haven't yet found the evidence which is not the most pleasant start to this Tuesday, but you know what? Life is good. Our Father in Heaven gave these specific babies to ME. And when I feel less than qualified to care for them, He bends down to remind me that He knows all. It IS me. He is with me. He loves me. He loves them. He is authoring this family. Each step we take, He is there.

How many kids can I handle? As many as God chooses to bless us with. Yes, I'm stressed and this life is hard, but I'm okay. We're okay. People ask me how I do it all the time and the answer is I really don't know. I just figure it out with lots of prayer, coffee, and Shakeology. Often times I feel completely overwhelmed with motherhood and my life as a stay at home parent, but it ain't all bad! So you'll have to forgive me when I display my tiny victories online for you to see. I'm simply celebrating. As always, I promise to strive to be transparent and talk about the struggles here, too. That's the place where we connect and grow!

Are the kids alive and fed? Take that photo! Is your garden flourishing and beautiful after the hard work you put into it? I want to see that. Did you slay your last workout? Good! That's motivating to me and I want you to share it. Thank you all for sharing in our family's story online, too. I appreciate you checking in with me when I post. Sometimes it's nerve wracking to have my personal diary online for anyone to see, but the alternative is being closed off from all of you. I get that enough here as I spend my days teaching small people how to talk and not be heathens. Then I go to bed feeling alone and do it all again the next day. I prefer to be as open as I can be! That's why you'll see me showing you proof when I actually get dressed in real clothes! Small, miniscule accomplishments are big news for this mama who is also chasing around three other people trying to stuff feet in socks and zipping up clothes while the bulging belly is making me have to catch my breath after every child is finally clothed. You know someone is going to require a diaper change before we finally head out the door, too, don't you?

This life is bananas, but I'm going to share it with you anyway. (Gotta go. #2 just threw up on my feet.)