Monday, August 20, 2012

It's Just Life: On A Weekend With 5 Boys

I pull up and little one comes running a little too close to the car. 
"Corny! Corny!" 
Hi Baby, how are you?! I exclaim in my bestest excited voice.

I hold his hand as I gather my load and he escorts me towards the door. I am met with big boy shouts echoing from the basement, another confined to his room, little boy tears and pleas to go outside before I can even get my bags put down--or take a deep breath.

Mom and dad and big sisters are gone, so we learn together and we trust better. This is new—for us all. It has never happened before, just the six of us, me and these five boys, so we make it special.

We stick noodles in turkey dogs and paint pictures of rainbows right at the dinner table.

We laugh and wipe tears. We fall asleep on the time out bench and we slide our jammies on over the dirt, just this once.

We go for walks and have races on the deck because the house just can't contain it all any longer. We dye cookie dough bright colors and spell out the names of the ones we can't do life without.

We attempt pancakes {from scratch of course} on Saturday morning because we just need a little normal.. We eat them and I scold the one who says these are better then Mommys. I come up with all kinds of punishments I will inflict upon the one who says that to Mamma!

We laugh until we cry, just us around that table with the floor covered in crumbs and noodles and his water spills. And I smile and go get a towel.

I talk to Jesus more then I ever have in my life. Because there is no one else to talk to—not like that anyhow. I pray without ceasing. Mostly selfish prayers for patience and joy and peace, but sometimes I remember the moments and I give thanks.

Hours well into the darkness, as I lay with little man curled up on my chest. I focus on creating a steady flow of breath. In and out. In and out. I pray to Jesus that the steadiness of my chest moving in rhythm might lull him into rest and peace. That when he fades, the noise machine and darkness will make for a flawless transition from my breathing to his bed. I move a leg and his head bobbles up. Oh well. He has  never been put to bed by anyone but his sisters, Mamma and Daddy.

I remember the weight of my role and thank Him. I kiss baby boy as his head nestles back into my chest and I rub his back and sing Jesus loves me--again. Though my singing does not comfort like his sisters. I laugh. I can't sing, period.

I begin to think about the weekend and the stress and the challenges and the uncertainty of it all. How will I ever be equipt to do this all the time, for life? I wonder late into the night. Will always feel this hard, this demanding? Will I ever rest again? Will I stop being so selfish? Will it ever stop feeling like the job that has provided for me though teenagerdom? Will I ever be as wise as their mamma? Will the striving just take few breaths ease?

As I get to church, boys in tow, I text Mamma and thank her for all she does everyday. I tell her that we miss her so much.

Of course she has to speak the Spirit of conviction into me, even over a screen with some letters on it.

It's not about you (or me). She texts me that morning. Children are a blessing from the Lord and we honor Him as we receive those blessings joyfully. She continues to tell me how much they appreciate me.

Several hours and a hard sermon later, the daddy texts me too, about something totally different but it ministers here. From his bed, sick at home he guides my heart in His words, "Lose the mindset that life is stressful—it's just life."

Simple truth that makes it all seem so simple—I breathe and the weight begins to dissolve.

I begin to get perspective. I won't have a dozen at once. There will be time to learn, to rejoice, to grow in wisdom. I won't be alone—a husband with authority will guard my heart with counsel too. They will be my own and that love is just something of a miracle, so they say.

And so, I press onward to heaven and I hope there, in that place that so far exceeds me, myself and I.

Today, I am learning that life is not stressful—it's just life. Today, I am learning that it's not about me—that kiddos are a blessing and Christ is glorified in receiving them as such.

So may life here on earth, what's left of it become lesser as eternity drives me heavenbound. It's simple and yet it changes everything about raising babies, everything about single-hood, everything about life as one of a dozen. 


  1. love this Courtney! I'm an adoptive mama too btw- we have 3 boys - #3 is adopted from foster care - we got him at 8 mos old :) God is healing and growing him beautifully (and me too)

    1. Kelli, thanks for stopping by! I am sure you have your hands full!! So thankful that He is faithful to heal as we trust Him to do so—it is so hard to trust some days, yet we must remember where we started and all He has done so that we may hope in what He will continue to do!