Hopeful Homemaker

The school year ends on Friday, which seems like cause for celebration.  However, I am currently wondering if we’ll make it through the rest of this week.

Today is one of those days.  You know, the kind when the school hours are spent holding crying children all day, then breaking up the fights they get in while you’ve got all four of them piled on your lap.  They cry, so you try to comfort them, and then someone else cries and needs comfort, and then they get jealous and want to be the ONLY person you’re helping so they begin to cry all over again and kick and push and fight each other for the only prime real estate in the world:  your lap.

I thought I’d do laundry today.  I’ve been thinking that for the last 10 days.  Not good.  I needed to do laundry today, because we’re all at the end of our clean clothes, and we still have two days of school, and as soon as school’s out on Friday we’re driving to Denver for the weekend.  Yep, the laundry is important.  And I went upstairs to work on it at least a dozen times today, only to be thwarted by the person at the door and the little ones who have been incredibly high maintenance today.

Tonight is our piano recital.  Sounds simple enough, but I also had to email the soccer coach who planned a last minute practice, get out of the gymnastics carpool, explain to my nine year old why we’re not going to Pack Meeting, etc.  The recital is at 6:00 pm, early enough that I can’t serve dinner AND get the kids in clean clothes AND drive 30 minutes to get there on time.  It’s late enough that by the time they perform, we spend a few minutes greeting everyone, and drive home it will be too late to start making dinner without major emotional meltdowns due to hungry tummies.  Yes, I could have put something in the crockpot, but just didn’t manage to pull my brain together in time.  I used the ingredients for my crockpot meal on Monday so I could be at the doctor’s.  Since I haven’t had time or mental capacity to put together a real meal plan and do some legitimate grocery shopping we’re running low on quick snacks and meals.  At this point I figure there’s no point in shopping until we’re back in town.  So pretty much I’m going to have hungry little ones at a piano recital and there’s not much I can do about it after being in the car all afternoon listening to my five year old say the same five words over and over again with her nose plugged.

In a three minute break between crying babies, I thought I’d make a cake.  I figured we’ll just get Chick-fil-A for dinner (major treat, we rarely do that) and I’ll have a cake to celebrate my children’s efforts in piano and school.  You know, make a mini end of school celebration.  I tried a new recipe (good for me!), set the timer carefully and then discovered that the baking time printed was way too long.  Thankfully I checked on it 10 minutes early and pulled it out, but it’s much more brown than it should be.  I got it out of the bundt pan, poked holes in it, whipped up a glaze and poured it over to try to moisten it up and salvage my efforts.  Bummer.  Oh well.

Then it was off to gymnastics for one daughter and a chance to explain to the coach why my other daughter won’t be there for a week and a half  (great waste of money) and figure out the summer schedule.  Yes, with three daughters in gymnastics, it looks like I’ll be there Tuesday through Friday every week.  So much for a lazy, unscheduled summer.  One activity and there went most of the week.  In the middle of all this the coach says to me, “You’re coming to the dinner tomorrow night, right?”  I pause, trying desperately to remember what she’s talking about.  I guess we’ll add that to tomorrow night’s lineup, then.  Bring it on!

So, now that I’ve arranged carpools for the kindergartener who has to go in the afternoon tomorrow for a field trip, and the daughter I can’t get to gymnastics because I’ll be 20 minutes away at a last minute soccer meeting for a new team with a new coach, and figured out that I guess I’m going to a dinner I didn’t know about (and making dessert sometime before that), we’ll try to find clean clothes for the piano recital in an hour.

At some point in the next 24 hours, I’ve got to clean the car, wash our clothes, get an oil change and tire rotation, make it to the bank for cash, get to the store for road-trip snacks, find our bags so we can pack, clean my house so I’ll be willing to come back from our trip, fill out and turn in a bunch of paperwork at the school, and write thank you notes for all the teachers who have taught my children this year.  Honestly, I could do it…. it’s just that my three little ones are the wild cards, and today hasn’t been encouraging.

SO, if this post seems like it’s written in run-on sentences like a music piece that’s entirely staccato, it’s because that’s how my brain is working today.  And with a trip, two huge deadlines looming next week, and the hope that we can get back to town in time for a special funeral, it looks like relief won’t come until mid-June.  I remember my sincere feelings from yesterday about making more time for my armor building and wonder how things could go so very wrong in just a few hours.

I know that my life will never be simple with 8 children, but I do believe that someday I’ll be able to clean and do laundry with more predictability than I can now.  But guess what?  That someday will come because I won’t have a little 9 month old baby crawling around the house putting anything and everything in her mouth, or a two year old who changes clothes 20 times a day in search of the elusive, “cutest clothesies” ever, or a four year old who needs a cheerleading team in place so he can use the bathroom, or a five year old who stresses about everything.  It will come because they’ve grown and won’t be there for me to clean out their mouths or change their diapers or fold them up into a little ball to tickle and kiss and love them.

Oh, as much as I want order, am I ready for the trade?  It will come, probably, sooner than I realize.  So right now, when I look around my house and feel like crying because I don’t have any idea WHEN I’ll rescue it from its current state of chaos, I have to remember that I chose what I have, and it’s what I really want.


So please excuse me while I smother my baby with kisses.  Never mind that her face is covered with pretzels that she snagged off the floor while the big kids were snacking.  And the recital?  Well, we probably won’t look great, but we’ll be there and support our children/brothers and sisters.  And the weekend trip?  Hopefully we’ll all be wearing clean clothes.  And the house?  I’ll get it clean sometime.  Yes, we will make it.  It may get ugly, but we’ll make it.  And while all the craziness swirls around us, at least I’ve got them all.  I can’t forget that.  I’ve got to live like I love it.  Because I do.

Jennifer

I have been blessed with eight unique children.


They have similarities, to be sure, but really they are incomparable.  Each of them was sent to our home with their own combination of talents, interests and sensitivities.  They all view the world through slightly different perspectives, have their own personal tastes and their own set of challenges.  They are all here to master themselves, but the list of what they must conquer is different for each one.  Each of them even has their own unique (and predictable) response to waking up in the morning!

The fact that they are completely original people is what makes being around them so much fun.  Sometimes it makes teaching them complex.  As convenient as it might be, there can be no assembly line parenting.  With each child in each stage, we must learn how to communicate with them in a way that reaches their heart, how to motivate them, how to help them understand correct principles and choose to live according to them.

As I ponder the road ahead, I realize that their future opportunities and challenges will be as unique as their spirits.   I want so much to send them all out into the world fully equipped to avoid unnecessary pitfalls and to meet adversity with determination and faith.

This line of thinking led me yesterday to the New Testament.  In Ephesians 6, we are instructed to take upon ourselves the whole armor of God.  In verses 10-18 we read, “Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the powers of the devil.
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities,  against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
And take the helmet of salvation, and thd sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints.”  (King James Version) I have always loved the imagery of this passage of scripture, picturing valiant individuals fully prepared to STAND in difficult times, able to refuse evil, sin and also the temptation to succumb to self-deception through excuses, victim mindsets and lack of personal accountability.  I picture these valiant individuals with light in their eyes, purpose in their step, courage and compassion in their behavior, and truth in their hearts as they watch “with all perseverance”.  They’re not perfect, but they have the tools necessary to be victorious.

I want my children to be like this.  I want them each to reach their full potential and become a blessing for the world around them.  I know they will make mistakes, but I want them to understand how to return to what is true and good.

Fifteen years ago I heard a talk that I’ve never forgotten.  It was titled “The Shield of Faith” and was given by Boyd K. Packer.  Its message is relevant today:

“As it has been since the beginning, the adversary would divide us, break us up, and if he can, destroy us. But the Lord said, ‘Lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, … taking the shield of faith wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked’ ( D&C 27:15, 17 ; emphasis added).

The ministry of the prophets and apostles leads them ever and always to the home and the family. That shield of faith is not produced in a factory but at home in a cottage industry.

The ultimate purpose of all we teach is to unite parents and children in faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, that they are happy at home, sealed in an eternal marriage, linked to their generations, and assured of exaltation in the presence of our Heavenly Father.

Lest parents and children be “tossed to and fro,” and misled by “cunning craftiness” of men who “lie in wait to deceive” ( Eph. 4:14 ), our Father’s plan requires that, like the generation of life itself, the shield of faith is to be made and fitted in the family. No two can be exactly alike. Each must be handcrafted to individual specifications.

The plan designed by the Father contemplates that man and woman, husband and wife, working together, fit each child individually with a shield of faith made to buckle on so firmly that it can neither be pulled off nor penetrated by those fiery darts.

It takes the steady strength of a father to hammer out the metal of it and the tender hands of a mother to polish and fit it on. Sometimes one parent is left to do it alone. It is difficult, but it can be done.

In the Church we can teach about the materials from which a shield of faith is made: reverence, courage, chastity, repentance, forgiveness, compassion. In church we can learn how to assemble and fit them together. But the actual making of and fitting on of the shield of faith belongs in the family circle. Otherwise it may loosen and come off in a crisis.

This shield of faith is not manufactured on an assembly line, only handmade in a cottage industry. Therefore our leaders press members to understand that what is most worth doing must be done at home. Some still do not see that too many out-of-home activities, however well intended, leave too little time to make and fit on the shield of faith at home.”

Those words fill my heart with both excitement and apprehension.  Today I am pondering eight shields of faith.  I’m thinking about my efforts in this “cottage industry.”  I’m considering how to shape and mold those shields to better fit individual needs.   I am reflecting on the sacredness of the family circle and the words “what is most worth doing must be done at home.”  I’m wondering what we need to let go of to create more time for the construction of that essential armor.  I am realizing how much help I need from my Heavenly Father to recognize spiritual and emotional needs and to know just what the individual specifications are .  I’m looking for ways my husband and I can work together more purposefully to accomplish these goals.

I’m also inspired by the vision of eight incomparable shields fitted for eight incomparable individuals.  I’ve considered the many different titles that I qualify for as a mother:  leader, chauffeur, cook, teacher, counselor, party planner, accountant, maid, the list goes on.  I think “armor craftsman” would be an appropriate addition.  An incomparable assignment for incomparable individuals.  I’m sure I can count on personal revelation to accomplish it.  What an honor!