Mother of Seven + 2

As we walked down the street together, one of my adult sons blurted out, "Mom, you don't have a life." Puzzled I asked, "Why do you say that?" "All you do is spend each day taking care of  everyone else.  You cook their food, wash their clothes, clean the house, and do nothing for yourself." I gently replied, "But that is my life.  It is the life I have chosen.  It is the life God has called me to." He was puzzled.  He didn't understand.  "How can you spend all your time pouring yourself into other people?  You have nothing left at the end of the day." I've been mulling this conversation over in my mind since then.  I don't always gracefully live this life.  Is there something he sees in me that makes him think it's not worth the sacrifice...the pouring out? When my babies were little, I didn't mind sacrificing for them. It was natural to me, I loved ministering to my little ones. I enjoyed a hot

I looked across the table at my oldest three children still at home, and concern filled my heart. Each morning at breakfast we read a short Bible passage together, discuss it, and pray.  It only takes fifteen minutes.  One child drifts off to sleep, another stares at the clock as if waiting for it to be over, and another is petting the dog.  They are not engaged.  It's the daily morning routine.  It's the waiting for Dad to quit rambling so we can get on with the day. I desperately long for them to begin finding delight in His Word.  I want them to look forward to our family worship time together.  However, I remember growing up and family devotions with my dad.  I can't say my attitude was much different then theirs.  Fortunately, I was blessed with a dad who persisted despite my attitude.  It taught me what was most important.  It taught me how to prioritize time with God.  It showed me the way. I sat there praying for our teenagers.  I asked God to help open their

In the last four years I've written very little on my blog.  I love to write.  It wasn't that I didn't want to...but somehow I couldn't find the heart to post.  Lately, I've been pondering the reasons why. Pride played a role.  I wanted our family story to be that "perfect" story.  I wanted love to be enough to heal all wounds for our children.  It wasn't.  It all came crashing down when Troy walked away from us at the age of 17.  We were completely broken and devastated.  I didn't feel I had anything to offer anymore except for maybe sadness.  And really, who wants that??? Fear crept in.  I began to wonder if I knew anything that was worth sharing.  What if I posted something that was wrong?  What if I encouraged someone to adopt children, and they went through the same crushing heartache? Depression set in, and anxiety took hold in my mind.  Daily I struggled to live each day.  I can look back now and see it all for what it was.  Time has a