Hear me roar

Thank you to my kindred heart, Suzanne, who really did call me and remind me to write this. It's especially encouraging to know that such an innately talented writer wants to read what little I write. Thanks friend.

Yesterday, my family and I made it to a very large Superbowl Party at a very large home. As I walked up to the door, I pushed away the jealousy. The talkative yet sneaky voice in my head said, "Wow... what could our family do with this home? Why haven't we ever had a home like this? Maybe if we had made better choices in life, we'd have a home like this and then all the boys would be happy and have the most friends, and so would we."  Why do I listen to this voice, ever?

So, we took off all of our shoes, as we were told to do by a sign on the door and made it into the home. Now, don't get me wrong. The people who own this home are gracious people who I have just begun to get to know. So, I can't comment on their intentions.

It's a gorgeous, new home in a very expensive little city, on the outskirts of DC. The kitchen which could actually fit all of our big boys when they stand around me asking what's for dinner; the huge playroom which could keep them all active on these cold winter days; the adequate insulation which doesn't allow for cold breezes to come wafting intermittently onto already cold feet. These are a few of my favorite things about the home. Not to mention the library---always wanted a library.

As the party went on, we made the normal chit-chat,"Five boys.....yes, all boys.....yeah, we don't really know the statistics of that happening.....we've lived everywhere....no, we really have lived there.....we haven't lived anywhere more than 2 1/2 years... we do hope to stay here, God willing." Even though our lives are crazy enough to dominate conversations, I do try to steer the conversations toward the other person. I do try.

So, I get to a couple of young moms who have young kids and are commiserating over the difficulty of the full-time job of motherhood. One has two little guys, 3 and 4, that are 15 months apart. The other has four under 6. I commiserated with them trying to hold back the comments that I hated when I was in their place, "Oh, I know it's hard, but those years go so fast!" (They do!)... or, "You think it's hard now, just wait until they're fifteen and you become a stupid person!" (You do!)  So I mainly just agreed and oo-ed and ah-ed as they recounted their difficulties.

But then they both at different times said this, "I know I have time to myself when the nanny comes, but you know, that's not much." And that voice in my head said, "WHAT?!"

And so here's my ode to the voice: sometimes she's right on the money and needs to be heard.

I was married and, planning on a master's degree, found myself pregnant one month into marriage. I had my first strong-willed, "When-Can-I-Be-the-Boss", Matthew, 10 months after the wedding.

When my cutest little sweetheart baby was 5 months old, I found out I was pregnant again. I did cry all day long. So, when Matt was 13 months old, I had RJ. My RJ who has been my right hand guy ever since.

But, while in the hospital just starting the labor with RJ, we had to call Aaron back from law school in another city so he could make it back for the birth. Then, after being released from the hospital, I had to recover at my in-law's home, while trying to watch my 13-month-old. That's when Matt spilled a paint can in the garage and ran through the house, getting little paint footprints all over their carpet.

We then moved to a series of little townhomes and apartments (getting progressively smaller) while Aaron was in law school full time. In fact, we kept our tiny married-student-housing apartment warm in the winter by turning on the oven and keeping the oven door open.  And I stayed in that apartment nearly 24/7 with two toddlers and toward the end of law school, two toddlers and largely pregnant with my third, David.

Then, my husband decided to join the Marine Corps, which required him to leave for an entire summer, with no contact with home. I found places for our little family to stay with relatives, which was no easy task to be the source of irritation for extended family members for two months.

But even then, I took care of my boys 24/7, with very little to no help. And no housecleaning service.

After law school, we moved several times around the East coast to get Aaron set up in the USMC. During that time, I became pregnant with number four, Benjamin. We moved to the base at Albany, GA knowing almost no one, and I continued with my job. By that time, I was homeschooling my oldest two. Still no housecleaning service. Only the daily grind of all the same tasks from the previous day, over and over again.

And on one heart-breaking day, my world turned upside down. Reality ran over me. And I was left broken while my son, Benjamin, was made truly whole in Heaven.

And all of my insides came out and God had to help me sort them through and put them back in place. And that process is still not done.

But as God healed me, we moved again and I had another boy, Daniel. I homeschooled three by then as I tried to become accustomed to yet a new place and no support again. We had a bigger home then, and no housecleaning and no nannies. Just me and my four under eight.

But as God was healing the brokenness, I loved my boys. And they helped heal me so I'm glad no nanny was there instead.

Then God presented to us the idea of moving to India and working for an NGO there. So we left all and sold all and went. Because we knew we weren't living for a house with beautiful blue morning glories on the front porch. We needed to comfort others with the comfort we received. So we moved our whole family to India, and labored to make a life there for nearly three years. And Nathanael was born there and I had housecleaning and childcare help there. But I regret the time I didn't spend with my boys there.

And that time there almost tore us apart....starting with me. Many have blamed me and many have blamed Aaron and many have blamed other unnamed people. But, besides me, I blame a messed-up world that we got very close to and tried to help. I believe we were privileged to help many. But, the numbers didn't add up, so we were brought home, unexpectedly. And I almost didn't make it through. It all finally caught up to me and nearly strangled me. It was only God's real lovingkindness that brought me through.

Aaron finally got a job after 7 months of our family slowly falling deeper into debt. And all of the boys and I stayed in the two-bedroom townhome in Columbus, Ohio, while he left for Iraq, the only job offer we had. I had few friends and support. But God knew that I needed that time alone. But I was afraid I might become a hermit and be unable to relate to other people anymore.

After a year and a half of being both parents, Aaron secured a federal job and we moved here, to the only home that seemed right to us. We were elated because God had provided the job and home we had been dreaming of in recent years. But one day, Aaron brought home the paycheck, and we realized we had not known how much the net income would be. And once again, we struggled to pull by month to month.

Now, life hasn't relented and the daily strain to shoot our arrows in the right direction continues. But as I heard those women lamenting, my voice and I decided that we've had enough and we needed to roar: I have done it. I have seen hell and touched it, even. God's eternal mercy wrapped around me and let me live. But it was a ton of hard work to pull through. I may not be able to put myself on display as Mom-of-the-Year and my kids aren't the ones every mother in the neighborhood wishes her sons could be. But I'm here. He's made me strong and no one can take that from me.

And even though my voice gets it a little wrong at times, this time it's right: I am here. I have done it. I have done it. And no one will take that from me.