Perils of a Large Family

Things you only hear from kids who are raised in a big family (and always using British accents):

Mary: Her name is Chrissiana. Her name is Giselle. Her name is Merida. We have so many children!

Leah: How many do you have?

Mary: 26.

Leah: Maybe you should get rid of some. You should drop some off at the orphanage because we only have one. Are you going to have more?

Mary: Oh yes.

Leah: Has your uterus ruptured yet?

Mary: No, not yet.

Leah: Then you can give me your next baby since you are going to have another one.

Mary: Okay. But only one, because I love them so much.

Leah: Oh, of course. I wouldn't have asked you for one of your children if I didn't think you loved them.

Mary: Alright. I'm so glad you asked. Now I need to go because I have so many children to fix dinner for.

Leah and Mary with an orphan-cum-sister, Phoebe

The Higher Calling

I love women's ministry. Everything about it just calls to me: the word of God; real fellowship and community with other imperfect women willing to be vulnerable; transparency and accountability to grow in my personal relationship with Jesus Christ; and the laughter that reaches beyond age or season to envelope everyone in the room. Yep, it is good.

I also have a particular connection to women's ministry because God has graciously allowed me to teach bible study in many different settings and churches over the past 19 years. Preparing, studying and planning are simply a part of my life - like breathing.

I assumed, like breathing, that it would always be this way.

Someday I'll stop making assumptions.

You probably picked up on this long before I did, but in between my passion for teaching women and changing diapers I somehow missed the amazing serendipity (I love that word - even though I don't believe in happenstance or mere chance) of birthing six daughters. Six little women! As my daughters came I pictured us enjoying deep, theological discussions together. I imagined them in bible study as adults, but somehow I completely skipped over adolescence. After all, that was why churches had youth ministry and not simply men's or women's ministry. The needs of jr. high and high school ages created such an altogether unique dynamic that it required an entirely different model of discipleship.

Or at least that's what I assumed. (See note above about what I need to do with my assumptions.)

Hannah (14) - Phoebe (3) - Me

My eldest daughter joined our church's official youth program a couple of years ago. At that time my husband began to serve as a leader in the youth group. Week after week I quizzed him on what was being discussed during the teaching time for Hannah's class. Week after week Christopher shared with me the gist of the topics and conversation until I began to see a pattern in my reaction. I loved that Hannah was getting a chance to hang out with her friends. I thought the games the youth played were often imaginative and developed great team spirit. I was glad she was being challenged to think on her own about concepts from the bible. But I also recognized a growing disappointment that the lessons often scratched only the surface of genuine Christian character and godly lifestyle choices. 

The group was mostly made up of other boys and girls from similar backgrounds. Many of them were churched meaning they, like Hannah, had grown up attending Sunday School and VBS and usually knew the "right" answers. They were also questioning, often for the first time, the concepts taught them through childhood and beginning to decide if the faith their parents ascribed to was going to be their own. This all seemed normal. And so did the awkward, embarrassed, sometimes confused ways the group interacted as the individual trajectory of puberty and personality began shaping each member into their own unique person. But the very same factors that made it "youth" ministry were also keeping it from being entirely successful in effective ministry.

How transparent can I expect my daughters to be in front of a bunch of kids who are struggling just to understand their own bodies, let alone their deeper purpose and unique calling in this world? Growing and maturing takes discipleship. Or at least it does if I want my girls to transition through adolescence  gracefully and without unnecessary heartache - which I do. So, mentoring becomes invaluable. I want my darling girls to learn about femininity from the heart of great women (and men) before they have it compared to the likes of Lady Gaga. I want them to engage in open conversations about difficult subjects with candor and respect before they learn all the street slang for what they should do if they really "love" that boy. And most importantly, I want them to understand what the bible says about the beauty and value of their womanhood before their peers define it for them. 

Youth ministry, alone, can not achieve these goals. Why? For the same reason elite athletes don't train with amateurs, and why virtuosos don't practice with beginners - we can not grow in maturity when consistently surrounded by people as immature as ourselves; and we do not learn to stand out by working hard to fit into the mold. One or two adults working to shepherd a roomful of rambunctious teenagers isn't a ratio built for success. 

Bottom Center & Clockwise:
Phoebe, Hannah, Mary, Leah, Bethany, Me, Evangeline

So, I'm quitting what I love in order to love what I'm called to - women's ministry. The ministry of making women... making godly, honorable women who are strong, capable thinkers in a world filled with relativity and subjectivity. By the grace of God I have the privilege of sharing my passion with six of the most amazing girls I have ever known.

Novella

Leah came suddenly to me this afternoon and announced that she had written a book. She asked if she could read it to me.

Of course!

The Runaway Twins by Leah Randall

Once upon a time there lived two twins. They were brats. Their names were Lilya and Leah. As you know they are brats and are really bad especially. The bad things that they did: they stole people's lunch at school. That's the kinda bad thing that they did. It's crazy what they did do. Holy Cow! One day the brats' mother got mad. They ran away. The mother got worried. She had thought she had been too harsh. When the girls had run away she began to miss them very much. And so she began looking for them because she loved them very much. While the girls were gone they began to get hungry. Really hungry. Then they spotted a bakery. They had no money and they were really hungry. They decided to go home. When they got home they said to their mother, "We're sorry for what we did. Please forgive us. We will never do it again,"they said. "I forgive you. I hope you two do keep your promise." "We will!" The End.

The Trio

Three of my children (Mary, Josiah & Leah) surprised me with this little gem. Please note: Leah confirmed her version of the lyrics and gave me a theologically sound answer as to why Jesus was saving hearts from Satan's power rather than simply saving all of us.

Enjoy.

Where Does She Get It?

Leah is our family's conundrum. She just doesn't fit the mold. And there is her penchant for imagining the most horrific events possible for her dolls. They break legs, arms, heads and feet. They are cripples for life, orphaned forever, sold into slavery, and often die. She usually responds with coolness towards their helpless cries for mercy. It's a hard knock life. C'est la vie. However, today was something unusually special. This is the conversation I overheard during her playtime with Mary.

Leah (in an unusually awesome fake accent): Hello. Do you have many children?

Mary (in an equally hilarious accent meant to underline her adult character): Why yes. I'm pregnant with my 20th.

Leah: Oh! How nice that you can have that many children. Has your uterus ruptured yet?

Mary: No. Not yet.

Leah: Well, I run the orphanage down the street. Do you know it?

Mary: Oh yes, I pass by there every day.

Leah: Perhaps you could think about giving your baby to the orphanage. We only have 1 child living there now.

Mary: Well, I'll think about it for sure. But I'm afraid you may kidnap my baby.

Leah: Oh! I would never do that! It's just that we don't have enough children at the orphanage and we need more. You have enough, don't you?

Mary: I could give you this one and then keep the next one.

Leah: Thank you. That would be perfect!

Gibberish in Idaho

My husband is leaving for a joy-ride to Idaho in just a couple of days. My children have caught the excitement in the air, and are playing that all-famous game, Idaho.

Yeah, I know. You loved it as a kid, too.

Today, Leah was leading a rousing rendition of Idaho when she called out from the playset, "Vamos y capore tunishia!" Phoebe excitedly followed suit, waving her hand frantically from the sky bridge and shouting, "Yunishia vamoshy gotoreshy!"

Obviously Josiah was somewhat dumbfounded by what his next move in Idaho was to be. Thankfully Leah provided a translation. "I just said hello and welcome to our boat to Idaho. I also told you I would not forsake you. That means I won't hurt you."

I'm glad she clarified. Phoebe just kept waving.

Leah's Gift

Leah has several gifts. She can make her daddy laugh faster than anyone in our family. She speaks her mind in such an utterly disarming way that no matter what she says you can't help but smile. However, she revealed her most special gift just a few days ago.

Bethany was away for a week at the camp she attends each summer. One of the things the campers are allowed to do is use a bow and shoot arrows for archery class. This happens only once during the entire week. To say Bethany was excited about the opportunity to practice archery would be an understatement.

On Friday, Bethany's last day at camp, Leah was sitting at our dining room table during lunch and staring out the window. Suddenly she said, rather prophetically, "I can tell by the way the sky looks that Bethany is doing archery right now."

Hannah laughed and questioned, "Leah, how can you tell what Bethany is doing at camp by the way the sky looks here? The sky looks like this all the time."

Leah chuckled at this delightfully innocent question. Then she answered with only a tinge of condescension, "Because, this is what the sky looks like when she does archery."

Of Course

We ate hamburgers and chips for dinner tonight. Daddy gave the kids a special treat with Cheetos. I'm not entirely sure of the chemical makeup for the orange powder used to dust Cheetos, but I'm fairly convinced it has almost nothing to do with cheese. It does, however, have the irksome tendency to stick on all substances - fingers especially.

Leah decided this was not entirely acceptable. I'm not really sure why since she thinks nothing of any other foreign material sticking to exposed or even hidden surfaces of her body.

I glanced over at her during the end of our meal and saw her cupping an open napkin in her left hand while placing her horde of Cheetos into it with her right hand. After every single Cheetos neatly placed in the napkin she would wipe her right hand... onto her pants.

"Leah!"

"Huh?"

"What are you doing?" 

Blank stare.

"Am I seeing that you are taking your Cheetos off your plate and putting them into a napkin, and then using your pants to wipe off your fingers?"

"Um... well, they are getting dirty."

"Why didn't you just leave them on your plate, using your fingers to pick them up from the plate to eat, and then wiping them off on your napkin after each bite? You are just going to get your fingers dirty eating them out of the napkin."

"No I won't."

"Oh, are you planning on shoving the entire handful into your face?"

"No," she calmly replied. "I was going to use this." She proceeded to show me a small corner of the napkin that she had already torn off before beginning this adventure. She picked it up and demonstrated how she planned to hold it between her thumb and forefinger, like a mini potholder, to delicately hold each Cheetos. 

Of course.

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Dude Looks Like A Lady

This is a "commercial" that we produced for an event at our church last month. Many of you have already seen it, but it bears repeating. Enjoy!

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Imagination

I'm sure most of us grew up with much emphasis placed on the importance of imagination. And if you're like me, you are probably raising your children to appreciate this beautiful gift as well. However, in our home imagination can take on all new proportions when attached to Leah. You see, her imagination and perception aren't entirely separated by reality. This little gem recently occurred in her Sunday School class, and her teacher was kind enough to pass along the story. Enjoy.

In Sunday School today, we were talking about going through hard times and how God will never leave us during those hard times. One of the worksheets had a child being laughed at for wearing silly clothes, another child scared of a growling dog, and a girl crying while her friend moved away. Then we each drew and described a hard time that we had. Leah is so creative and clever. She told me she had a very hard time when she moved to California on December 21, 2011. She said she used to live in a little village with very high hills with her friend Owen. To get in the village you had to scan your hand under a glass reader to make sure there was never blood on the hands and that they knew you were not a kidnapper. She continued on about how hard it was to leave the village and come to California. I have no idea how I should respond to stories like this. I love her imagination and I know this age group is very big on telling stories. I don't know if I should confront her in those situations for the truth or say, "wow, what a great story." How do you react? In class, I said, "wow, moving away to a new place is very hard" and moved on. I didn't want to validate her story nor deny what she said. I was going to bring up the story when you picked her up, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable for bringing it up. I love her stories and the excitement and detail she gives them - but I don't know if I should "play along" as she presents them as truths. :) Every encounter I have with her makes me smile. She also told me in the bathroom that her little brother was so annoying she wanted to ship him in a box :)

After Christopher and I roared with laughter I replied to the teacher's email. The following might help you see why Leah's "imagination" is so difficult to separate from reality.

So first, let me say that you handled it very well. We definitely make a point of confronting the children on the difference between sharing a story and presenting make-believe as fact. However, I also find it so helpful to ask questions without preconceived assumptions that the story is false There are some hilarious points to Leah's tale that are actually true... when understood correctly. 

-We moved to California on December 21, 2011. Leah didn't realize that we have always lived in the state of California, and thought our present home was California while the one we lived in previously was not. She obviously just threw a date out from nowhere! But, she was born in our previous house and she remembers the move quite well so I think that is why her story carried such a vivid "recollection" aspect to it. 

-Her friend Owen. We had a family that lived down the street from us named Rouen (rhymes with Owen). They were quite good friends, and played together often. 

-We lived in a little village with high hills. This is one of those things that especially makes me giggle. We lived in old military housing, and the community has a very "village" feel to it. You enter through an access street and then drop down into a rolling collection of duplexes. She was actually quite correct in describing it as a little village with very high hills. LOL We lived in an especially active cul-de-sac. Because our children were all much younger I didn't leave very often, and the kids became accustomed to us being in our village for days at a time. There was very little traffic, and absolutely no "through" traffic at all since there was no outlet for non-residents. Too add to this, you couldn't see any of the other cul-de-sacs from our street, but only trees and hills. 

-You passed your hand under a glass reader to look for blood to make sure you weren't a kidnapper. Obviously this is just pure fabrication. When I mentioned this to her I simply asked her whether or not this was true. She said no, it was pretend and I again reminded her of the need to make sure you always tell the truth when you are sharing facts. If the person knows you are sharing a pretend story then make-believe is perfectly acceptable, but if they don't know it is pretend then you are lying. You are welcome to address her in this same manner. 

-She wants to ship her brother in a box. I do too sometimes. :P

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Protector

Mary announced her intention to run away one morning last week.

Really?

Yes, Mama. I'm going to run away. (long pause) Can I leave after breakfast?

Hmm, probably.

I won't be gone for very long. Only, maybe, 4 hours or so.

Oh, I see.

And I'm not going to leave Marina or anything. Just, you know, maybe go down to the library.

At this point Leah chimes in to ease me over the pain of letting my little girl leave home for the first time.

Mama, it's okay. I'll go with her. That way I can protect her.

You're going to go with Mary to protect her?

Yep. I can save her from wild animals. That way you won't need to worry about things like mosquitos.

Phew! I was worried.

PS - They decided staying on our street (thus ensuring their slice of homemade bread for lunch) was preferable to the adventures available in the greater Marina area.

Leah

L

     loquacious. Yep, she talks. Leah loves to babble about anything, but most especially she likes talking about her babies, imaginary friends, and health maladies. I can't remember the last time she spoke when something didn't tickle me. I regularly have to cover my mouth in order keep my mirth under cover, lest I spoil her transparency and ruin the moment. But really... how does one keep a straight face while being told that Ariel, her mirror-living friend, is the daughter of Satan?

E

     empathetic. My 4th born is bothered by her siblings hurts, fears, or mishaps. She quickly seeks out help on their behalf, usually trying desperately to console the injured party at the same time. Her empathy can even get her in trouble. She has been known to cry more demonstratively than a sibling receiving punishment, lending total chaos to our house.

A

     appetite. At first glance you may suspect me of giving a glowing report on Leah's robust love of food. I am not. While I will say that she knows how to chow down, she apparently forgets that knowledge every other day; forcing her father and me to resort to ultimatums at least twice a week. No, the appetite I do intend to give a glowing report on is Leah's zest for life. She is insatiable. Her personality alone requires a tremendous amount of caloric intake, and feed it she does. She is a walking non sequitur. You can not be around her for more than a few minutes before genuinely laughing yourself silly.

H

     higgledy-piggledy. There isn't anyone in my immediate circle of friends or family who leaves a bigger disaster in their wake than Leah. Seriously. Her version of "clean" makes my version of "messy" look tame. Of course, there can be seen a benefit to this penchant for clutter. For instance, Leah is free to move with inspiration from one project to the next, never fearing that her ideas may grow stale in the brain vacuum of cleaning. And, I must admit, her dance through life leaves me breathless with its wonder and curiosity - never masked or hindered by the fear of what consequences she may leave behind her.

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Medical Care

Leah regularly regales us with stories of her babies, their wounds, and the treatment required for their care. Sometimes the treatment is successful. Sometimes it is not. In fact, a few weeks ago she pointedly announced that her baby was going to die, "because the medicine didn't work."

Our family has grown accustomed to these tales, but tonight's version brought a fresh wave of hilarity to Leah's audience. Bethany whispered to me, "You need to blog that one." She's right.

Mama, did you know my baby needs surgery on her leg?

No, I didn't. What happened?

Well, her leg is broken.

Oh no!

Yep. So she needs to have surgery.

How did she break it?

Well, there was a hook attached to a rope. I had tied the rope to the middle of the street, and I was pulling my baby with the hook. Well, I was pulled into the middle of the street from the rope, and I didn't get run over but my baby did.

Wow!

Yep. By a monster truck.

And with that, she bounced out of the room.

Grown Up

Leah and Mary are playing together in the other room. Mary is deciding to assert her ownership over a few My Little Ponies, and Leah is becoming more and more upset. Finally I hear Mary concede:

Sure, you can play with them, Leah... when you're grown up.

But Mary! (she's working herself into tears) I won't be grown up for years. It is going to be at least 20 years before I am grown up!

I know. (Mary says - nonchalantly and without a hint of pity) You'll just have to wait.

non sequitur

Mama, watch my dance.

Okay, Leah.

Lala tra-lala laaa (singing her own theme music)

That's beautiful! Well done.

Yep, because my superhero is cooking.



Don't look for an explanation. There is none.

Necessary Accommodations

It is a little warm on our lovely peninsula this weekend. When I say, "a little warm" I do not mean the mid-80s that many of you consider the definition of warm. Those temperatures are obviously relative to your heat, which hits the 100s plus during your summer. No, I refer to the blazing inferno of 72 degrees fahrenheit (with breeze). Hey, I never said we were heavy weights in the heat department. That's why we life were we do.

But I digress.

Leah came up to me holding a rubber band in her hand and asking me, quite seriously:

Mama, can you please put my hair up in a ponytail? I need you to because Bethany said if I don't have it put up then the back of my neck will suppocate!

She looks at me with her, "Can you believe it?" expression of incredulity. Then she calmly tosses this out as she walks away:

Or worse... the Sahara Desert.

Conversations With A Genius

Christopher and I have decided that Leah must remain perpetually 5. Her precociousness is mixed with just the right amount of tender wonder and innocence. The following two conversations are, verbatim, discussions I had with her just today.

Mama, what is that flag next the the American flag?

The California Flag.

Wow, are we going to go to California?

We live in California.

Hey, Mama, I got an idea. We could take a trip in our van from America to California. And we could drive there, and when we got there we could visit friends. Only, if the friends weren't home, and it was raining, then we might get wet and could die! So we would have to get some food, and then go back to South America. But we might not be able to drive there, so we would have to drive to an airport so that we could fly back, so that none of our children die. You would be so sad if that happened, because you love us.

You are right. I do love you all so much.

Yep, I know. Because I am smarter than anyone.

***

Mama, I am going to have a headache in about an hour.

Really?

Yep. Right now my left brain might start to hurt. So in an hour it is going to be a headache.

Do you have a headache right now?

No. Just that I am going to have one in an hour.

How do you know you are going to have a headache in an hour?

Because my left brain is going to hurt.

Oh, okay. Thanks for letting me know.

You're welcome.

The Other Leah & Mary

I overheard the following conversation yesterday...


Leah:
Mary, we broke Princess Mirabella's special jacket.

Mary:
No, we didn't.

Leah:
Yes, we did. Remember, we pulled off the sleeves.

Mary:
No, we didn't.

Leah:
Mary! It is broken, and we did it.

Mary:
No, Leah, that was the OTHER Leah and Mary.

Leah:
Oh. Okay.

Someday

You know those stories that you share, sides splitting with laughter, from your childhood? Not the ones that were funny at the time, rather the ones where you were thoroughly "busted". However, the striking absurdity of the moment bleeds through the years, and the hilarity simply can not be denied. I have a few from my own childhood. I have heard several from my friends and husband. And I know that through the parenting of my seven little people I am again experiencing them...

Today was just such a time.

The rain is slowly driving my entire family crazy. Through this time I have worked hard to maintain balance in my expectations. After all, the kids can't get outside to unleash their energy. Loud noise and rambunctious activities are going to be the norm. After an exceptionally boisterous morning I prepared to move into a rowdy afternoon, so you can imagine my surprise when Phoebe and Josiah both went down for their naps without any fuss. With the two little ones fast asleep, a break in the weather for my three middles to get some much needed outdoor time, and my older girls working on school I was lulled into a false sense of security.

I enjoyed the blissful quiet, making much needed use of it managing our banking.

A couple of hours later I needed to grab something out of the garage. The older girls were playing on the computer, Josiah and Phoebe were still napping and presumably the middles were somewhere outside.

I opened the garage door, and simply stared at what my eyes beheld.

Caleb, Leah and Mary decided the garage needed to be cleaned. However, instead of actually taking care of their messes, throwing away old art projects, finding the long lost matches to shoes shoved in the corners they thought the floor was in need of mopping. Okay, I am willing to admit that from time to time a thorough cleansing of said floor might be in order. But remember, this is the middle of winter, and it is raining outside... translated: Not The Right Time To Mop The Floor. Add to this the ever charming ingenuity of my scheming children and you get things like: mopping using rain water; mopping with paint rollers; mopping more than simply the floor.

Yes, indeed, I will one day hurt myself laughing silly over the mighty spectacle of my garage covered in rainwater run-off from the upside down lid of a large plastic container used to house outdoor toys. It will seem hysterical that my son thought using the meticulously cleaned roller brushes as a "mop" to roll water (carefully procured from the upside down lid mentioned above - which, it should be noted, had been brought into the garage and perched on a card table for convenient reloading) over the floor, carpet, suitcases, needing-to-be-broken-down cardboard boxes, refrigerator, washing machine, and card table was a good idea. Indeed, Mary's decision to sweep the area I use as a laundry room with her shedding, straw broom will send me into irrepressible giggles afresh. The sheer determination to touch every exposed surface with dirty water will be humor defined.

Someday.

The Accidental Slap

I love it when my kids confess... especially when they haven't been "caught" first. Leah just came inside, already crying with shame over what she needed to share.

I accidentally slapped Mary...

*I stare at her with the What-More-Do-You-Need-To-Say look. She takes a deep breath, between sobs, and continues.*

...in the head...

*More staring, deeper breathing, harder sobs.*

...with my baby doll...

You accidentally slapped Mary in the head with your baby doll?

...because I was angry.


I think the term, "accident" is perhaps too liberally applied.