Yesterday after church, our family went to our somewhat-of-a-tradition Sunday dinner at my parents’ house. The kids “swam” while Grandma finished the lunch preparations. Two of them were even brave enough to take off their arm rings and inner tubes (4 feet of water is truly daunting when you’re 3 feet tall). I tried to help with dinner, but I’m not sure putting baby silverware on the table lightened the load any. I can guess, though.

Anyway, after the scrumptious surf-and-turf lunch which we all eagerly gobbled up (pass the tartar sauce and A-1, please!), my mother offered to watch the children if Ethan and I wanted to get away.

As Ethan stretched and yawned, I shouted (because it’s hard to hear when you’re yawning), “WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO?”

I then yawned through whatever it was he said (too quietly), but I can speculate it had something to do with my parents’ leather reclining sofa. I ignored the speculation and reasoned that he would want to do something with me apart from the children. We opted to take Jonathan as he is one of those lingering nursers that nurses for 3 minutes until falling into a deep sleep from which the only way to awaken him is to set him down. And then the only way to make him stop crying is to nurse him.

And once we got away, we just walked leisurely together. As we strolled, Jonathan fast asleep in the baby sling, a grandmother with her daughter and 9-mo. old grandson stopped me. “Oh, how old?” she asked. I answered that he was almost 2 weeks. “Is this your first?”

“No, this is number six.” She did the obligatory eye pop and then asked how old the children were. When I gave their ages, the oldest being six, she asked in a sort of sugary tone, “Oh, do you homeschool?”

I don’t know who decided that large family means homeschooled. I mean, I won’t even get near a denim jumper, I don’t have to move my hair out of the way before I sit down, and I don’t think two-piece swimsuits are sinful.

But the kids? They are just a dead giveaway. I mean, I didn’t even have to deny being Catholic, Mormon, or married to a Marine first! She jumped right to homeschool!

Anyway, once her suspicion of homeschooling was confirmed, she said, “Oh, I don’t know how you do it. I had five, and I LOVED when the school bus came in the morning!”

Even as she said that, I thought what a nightmare that would be for me. Theological, social, and safety misgivings aside, if I had to load school-aged children onto a bus every morning, I would be losing two of my best helpers. My two oldest are only 6 and 4, but there is A LOT that 6- and 4-year old arms can do. Especially if the only other options are two sets of 3-yr. old arms, a 17-mo. old set, and a 2-week old set. Oh, and a thirty-one year old set.

As providence would have it, today I got to test that theory. My two oldest are off to magical thrills unknown with my two sisters, brother-in-law, and two young nephews, as they go to an amusement park for the first time. And I already miss them terribly! Fortunately, I did get Ben to change the kitty litter (one of his daily chores) before he left, but OY!

I have had to read the same book four times in a row. And it’s not even a Boynton book. It’s a Little Golden Book. One of those weird ‘80’s ones. Normally Ben does this, and he will pick a selection of books. I have been frozen in the corner of the couch with a sleeping/nursing/whatever-it-is-he’s-doing baby.

I had to fold all the clothes that came out of the dryer (fortunately, the 3-yr. olds emptied the dryer for me) and put them away.

I had to empty the dishwasher, get everyone’s drinks, clear the table, soak the dishes, load the dishwasher, play with the twins and Eden, hide Lily’s doll that everyone was fighting over … all while carrying a baby that usually falls asleep on his brother’s lap (the lap of the brother that’s 6. He wants nothing to do with the lap of the 3-yr. old brother). And after naptime, I will have to get Edee out of bed, fix her drink, get drinks for the twins, and think of a fun game. Only mine probably will not involve jumping from the back of a couch to a much-too-small-and-terribly-lumpy couch pillow on the floor.

The one redeeming thing is that when everyone went down for a nap, EVERYONE went down. Meaning I have time to sit here and write this long-winded post (so maybe not so redeeming?). But on the other hand, there is no 4-yr. old to brush and style my hair, whispering, “I love you so much, Mama. Are you so glad I’m your daughter?” and no 6-yr. old to “surprise” me with his daily offering of a glass of chocolate milk.

Why do I have six kids? Because four is just too much work!!!

I'm still a little bit in shock, as I'm sure my husband is. After five (I think?) years of late nights filled with heavy books, theological treatises, and word-wrestling at the mercy of often combatant computers, it is finished. All of the final papers have been written, reworked, proofread, footnoted, and submitted. All of the final exams have been answered with the appropriate amount of head-holding.

Seminary is done.

I must admit I sniff a hint of superstition as I write that...a childhood fear that by saying it I might cause it not to be. That somehow there is a class that was frightfully overlooked or a requirement that was never met.

But I am going to ignore that fear and say it anyway. And loudly.

SEMINARY IS DONE!!!

I am insanely proud of my husband, a man who fathered five (one yet unborn) additional children, and fathers them well, in the midst of papers and preaching and presbytery meetings. I am constantly amazed when I hear him preach or teach a Sunday School...this man who went from wanting to be a pilot to a lawyer to anything that would let him work outside...then realized an undeniable calling to proclaim the Word of God. We listen to the same music, we watch the same movies, we deal with the same runny-nosed, whiny, exasperating, hilarious, wonderful children; and yet when I hear him teach I am blown away by the surety of his calling.

And in the middle of all this craziness...of kids and classes-via-live-time-video and work and church...he remains a steadfast husband and father who is head and shoulders above the crowd. When cashiers or postal workers or shocked co-shoppers count the young heads around me and ask, "How do you do it?" I explain that my husband is such an incredible father that lots of kids should have him for a dad.

I can't find the time to apply a temporary tattoo because there are two loads of laundry waiting to be folded; with numerous 20-page papers waiting to be written and several church meetings to attend, he can find the time to take lingering nature walks that involve goose intestines, snakes, hummingbird moths, and animal bones.

I told you he was good.

So now we shift from papers to preparations for Friday night's graduation, including getting the van serviced and loaded and the camper readied.

And these are welcome chores indeed.

(photo: Ethan and Abraham in 2006)

If you find yourself in the middle of an "I Think I'll Do a Spontaneous Fun Mom Thing" moment and this is uncharted territory for you, beware.

Especially beware if it involves dragging child-sized table and chairs onto the back deck and then loading the table with a bin containing the contents of three bags of dried beans and various kitchen utensils.

Before you unleash your children, take note of how big the cracks are in your deck. Smaller than the beans? Good. Bigger than the beans? Fine. The same size as the beans?

I would say, "Don't ask me how I know to do this," but we all know how I know. I should have stuck with, "Fifteen minutes cleaning your bedroom and then find something to do outside," but inspiration struck. Hard. (ouch!)

Our oldest daughter, Lily (4), often leaves the "s" off of words that begin with an "s" blend. So snake becomes nake, stop it becomes top it, and scratch becomes cratch.

But when she loudly (and proudly) belched at the table the other day, she offered a cheery, "Oh, excuse me, I chirped."

"No," said Ethan, "You burped."

"Oh, sorry," said Lily, "I ... [long pause]...SBURPED."

Much better.

The pile of materials that Ben (6) and Lily (4) took upstairs with them for their quiet time in our room:

• Spiderwick Chronicles: The Wrath of Mulgarath (on audiocassette)
• Little Golden Book's The Princess and the Pea
• DK's The Young Martial Arts Enthusiast
• The Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes
• Ben's Bible (Sunday School worksheets shoved inside)

What Ethan heard when he stealthily checked on them:

Ben's voice, reading Genesis 1 to Lily.

Aaah. Now THAT is some true soul music.

"Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, O LORD, God of hosts." Jeremiah 15:16

I refer specifically to the Decalogue, the Second Commandment of which prohibits the Israelites from making concrete images of anything. "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water beneath the earth." I wondered then, as so many others have, as to why the God of these people would have included instructions on how they were to symbolize, or not symbolize, their experience...We may hazard a guess that a people who are being asked to embrace an abstract, universal deity would be rendered unfit to do so by the habit of drawing pictures or making statues or depicting their ideas in any concrete, iconographic forms. The God of the Jews was to exist in the Word and through the Word, an unprecedented conception requiring the highest order of abstract thinking. Iconography thus became blasphemy so that a new kind of God could enter a culture.

   Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business (ch. 1)

Everyone knows that young children are concrete thinkers. In fact, mine are so concrete that I can imagine my oldest (6) reading this and arguing that he only thinks about concrete sometimes and more often thinks about quicksand and force fields.

Still, I am struck by the fact that in my struggling to make the truths of Scripture more "concrete" for my children, I stand in danger of simplifying God to the point that I am no longer portraying God to them (and that is, in fact, portraying an idol). God has chosen to express Himself in His Word.

For who even of slight intelligence does not understand that as nurses commonly do with infants, God is wont in a measure to "lisp" in speaking to us?  Thus such forms of speaking do not so much express clearly what God is like as accommodate the knowledge of him to our slight capacity.  To do this he must descend far beneath his loftiness.

What are the outward means whereby Christ communicates to us the benefits of his mediation? A. The outward and ordinary means whereby Christ communicates to his church the benefits of his mediation, are all his ordinances; especially the word, sacraments, and prayer; all which are made effectual to the elect for their salvation.

    

Westminster Larger Catechism, Q&A 154

   

So what does this look like practically? Well, for starters, it means that my children hear the Word of God. They hear it in church, they hear it at home, they hear it when we sing, they hear it when we pray. I am so neglectful of this. There should not be a day that passes when my children do not hear the Word of God. That is one of the blessings of being a covenant child! Why would I withhold that from them? Because I think they can't handle it? HOGWASH! Who am I to judge how the Holy Spirit will move in their hearts? Do I truly believe that the Word of God is living and active (Hebrews 4:12)?

When my children ask me a question about God, or heaven, or the devil, where do I look for the answer? Do I give them some trite Veggie-Tale exploitation of truth in a sing-song fashion, or do they see me open my Bible for the answer? Do they hear me share their question sincerely, no (or at least muffled) giggles, with my husband?

As we leave the church service, do we talk about the things the pastor explained? When my husband and I take communion, do I explain the elements to my children? Do I prepare them for Sundays when there will be a baptism, and remind them of what their baptism means to us?

Do I read God's Word myself? (AAACCCCKKKK...I am so delinquent in this!!) Am I memorizing His Word that I might not sin against Him?

Do I pray? Without ceasing?

Do I remind them, after they have failed and been disciplined, that there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1)?

As the Resurrection Day approaches, are my thoughts on Easter baskets and dresses and colored eggs, or am I pursuing the truth of the incarnation and death and resurrection of the Word? Do I seek to explain His coming to my children, or am I satisfied that they will "get it" in their Palm Sunday and Resurrection Day Sunday Schools?

Huh? My own weakness and unbelief hit me hard. "I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24).

I desire for God to reveal Himself more clearly to me and through me. May I rest in the beauty and work and power of His Word.

For "everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!" (Romans 10:13-15)

 

 

I was reading Home Education by Charlotte Mason and decided we needed to do more "nature walks," especially now that it's starting to get nicer out. So I took the kids for a walk the other day (picture this: 5- and 3-yr. olds walking, twins in double stroller, baby in sling).

This is what we learned: