It is Good

    Today i sat surrounded by my crew of boys and debated the possibility of losing my mind. I felt pulled in a gazillion directions as i struggled to keep the middle kids (twins and Jacob) focused on school, while helping the older ones with questions, even while Baby Love was crying every few minutes because he has massive teeth pushing through and he's beyond grouchy. I once again sat on our rather raggedy red recliner to comfort Christopher and thought about the impossibility of trying to do and be all things at once. I tried not to think about mothers who actually have a room designated for school, along with cute little girls who think school is the cat's pajamas.

The detox of green smoothies that was meant to make us healthy and quite thin?
A complete and nasty failure.

  As my boys chased each other through the house and banged kettle lids with Lincoln Logs for drums, (i chased them outside.....quite literally) and a son had to rewrite a sentence for the third time, i had an epiphany.

  I've been fighting this hard stage of schooling in my spirit. I keep thinking that if i find the perfect answer or schedule, everything will fall into place and it will become easy. My children will be cheerful, hard working, and will love nothing more than quietly sitting, preferably in a far away corner, filling out large workbooks with neatly written answers.

  So while Zachary voluntarily cleaned up the living room and i rocked Baby Love, i realized that this is a very intense stage of life and i need to embrace it. No matter how good i organize, IT WILL BE HARD. And guess what? THAT'S OK!!! Yes, there are answers to help things run more smoothly but God will only give them as i surrender to where i'm at in this schooling stage and stop relying on my own strength.

  And did you get that sentence about Zachary voluntarily cleaning up the living room? That's right! On his own, without me so much as saying a word. And why am i complaining??? Dear Lord, forgive my selfish heart. I want perfectly obedient children so i can feel good about my perfect life that never stretches me beyond what i can handle. Or think i can handle. That way when i'm old and retired, i can remember how my life was perfect and my house clean. But how empty. How incredibly empty that would be.

The living room after Zac was finished. There's hope!!! 

  I thought it was intense when all i had was littles. When my 3rd grader couldn't remember to add vowels to her words and the twins were trying to butcher bananas behind my back. I thought it was hard when my mother followed me all day wondering where her husband was, and i fed my farmers copious amounts of food at each meal and trembled at the grocery bill. I thought it was hard when i lived in a dusty compound with a green mamba snake and tin walls and worries about ISIS snatching me at the grocery store. I thought surely it couldn't be any worse when i found out my little girl was going to be buried in African dirt, and what if i never smile again.

  But now that i look back, all i can see are the silver linings. I see the row of little Weaver bodies snuggled up to me while we read huge piles of books about early American history. I see the memories made as we laughed over piles of fried potatoes and crispy bacon around that scratched farm table. I remember my mother's laughter and her tears as she realized she will never again be the woman she used to be, and i see her brokenness at the foot of Jesus as she surrendered that strong, beautiful woman that was her. I remember the fellowship with fellow missionaries inside those dusty walls, and the smiles on the people as they laughed at the strange white woman who carried her baby in front of her instead of behind her. I remember the healing as i gave Hadassah back to God and chose life and joy, and i remember the smiles that followed.

   Someday, i will look back with an ache in my heart at the memory of this little house bursting with life. I'll remember the son cheerfully taking the littles outside so i can get lunch ready and i'll remember the soft cheek of baby snuggled against my neck. I'll remember those early mornings, stumbling to the table bleary eyed, and reading the Word of God together and then searching our hearts to see what God is saying to us. I'll remember the prayers going up from the mouths of our young people as they seek God for answers and strength. I'll remember my strong leader of a husband as he sat at the head of the table, leading our discussions and challenging our hearts. So strong and yet so tender. How God has taken him through the fire the last number of years and how incredible are the results. I'll also remember the laughter. So much laughter.

  I don't know where our future as a family lies. We are seeking God's face as a family for where He wants us. We've been asked to return to Africa to reach out to street children and we've also been asked to pray about inner city ministry in the United States. Or does He want us to stay in Virginia? No matter where it is, i know God Himself walks before us, with us, and inside of us and because of that, my heart is filled with joy and peace.  And forgive me if this sounds super spiritual, but i never want to retire. I'm praying that the Lord will take me while i'm still going full blast. Whether that's in my 40's or 90's, i'm praying to never stop until i've officially been released by King Jesus Himself.

  So today i choose to embrace this season of life. I'm being stretched beyond my comfort zone AND IT IS GOOD.

  Thank you Jesus.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you.