Another Mother's Day

Well another Mother's Day come and gone. I'm always quiet on Mother's Day. I have a great Mom who was also one of my best friends while growing up, but that's not what makes me quiet and thinkie-like. For years after Scott and I got married there were no children, at least not the kind that lived with you night and day, well day, well night, well both night and day. We've been active in youth ministry for a long time, long time and for those first ten years of marriage those kids were our only kids. When asked how many kids we had (always something you ask young married folks) we usually laughed and said oh 50 or so. Inside however the hurt went pretty deep, maybe more for me than Scott, not because he didn't want kids, he just didn't have that biological clock ticking the months off, month after month. I cried a lot, a lot, sometimes outloud, but most of the time secretly, late at night. Then one wonderous Christmas, Hope was born! (literally-we named her after Jesus-the hope of the world-not because she was the child we had longed for 10 years plus). Then a year later, here comes Leah. Two more precious children did not exist on the face of the earth. I remember the early childless Mother's Days sitting on the pew, trying not to cry as all the mothers stood up, category by category, age, number of kids, etc. and then the obligatory-stand if you had a mother, that was somehow supposed to make it hurt less. It didn't. I remember sitting there, never hearing whatever the sermon was, just thinking that I wished my dress was wrinkled from some kid sitting in it. Then there were two and I was sufficiently wrinkled, but still crying. Now crying from the deep places inside because of the blessings that God had given to me and still crying for the others, who were sitting in the pews with the smiles plastered on their Sunday faces for fear someone would think them weak or lacking in faith, somehow. It's ok to cry for sad things. Jesus did. It's not ok to cry and not pray, but it is ok to cry while you pray. There isn't a magic formula, a certain prayer, certain scriptures to memorize...we even did the fertility drugs for a while. It just wasn't God's plan at the time, but it still hurt. What would I have done if He hadn't given me my own personal set of kids? Would I be bitter or just childless. No not childless-there are the others. With kids come the almost kids. You know the ones that are just always around, that you worry about just like your own kids-mostly because they come in herds, or at least they do at my house. This Mother's Day I was kinda sick and wanted to just stay in bed for my annual thinkie day. As I was laying there in a Dayquil induced sorta sleep I started thinking about my kids, all my kids and about the fact that my two "laps" as Hope used to call my legs, anyway that my lap wasn't big enough to hold all the kids I now have and I'm really not much of a dress person anymore, anyway. Some of my "kids" were leading worship at another church and my two kids persuaded me to get up and go with them to support their brothers and sisters. In fact, Leah's gift to me was a collage of a lot of the girls that are my almost kids. I cried, a good cry, a joyous cry. We had a big old bunch of kids for lunch at Flying Fish and then later that night, well over 60 of them worshipping together around God's throne. My heart is full. Even now, downstairs, right now, I don't have any idea how many of them are here. I'm in my pjs already and doing a little Nyquill. But I hear them, laughing, enjoying each other, all brothers and sisters who will cling to each other like real family in good times and bad, not because they are blood relatives-but oh no, wait, they are blood related-by the precious blood of Jesus Christ. They are downstairs being family. I have more kids than the Old Woman in the Shoe. Ain't God good?