A few years ago I reconnected through facebook with a college buddy from my BBC days, Rich Gelina. He introduced me to the world of blogging, and for a time, I contributed to his blog, By His Grace For His Glory. My husband encouraged me to strike out on my own, and so I created this blog. I am in the process of re-posting articles here that I originally wrote for Rich's blog . Rich is a great website guru, and did some awesome formatting for me on those posts, and they look so much prettier over there!
I have not been very diligent in writing fresh stuff, but I hope to get started up again here in the next few weeks. In the meantime, if you would like to read more of the "old stuff," I would encourage you to follow this link to Rich's blog. You'll find old posts of mine using this link, but you might want to explore while you are there. Rich is an excellent writer and thinker. We haven't had nearly enough time to connect lately, and I miss our rousing conversations about theology, politics, and life in general.
He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what He has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the LORD. (Psalm 40:3)
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Why Does God Allow Evil
A psalm of Asaph.
1 Truly God is good to Israel,to those whose hearts are pure.
2 But as for me, I almost lost my footing.
My feet were slipping, and I was almost gone.
3 For I envied the proud
when I saw them prosper despite their wickedness.
4 They seem to live such painless lives;
their bodies are so healthy and strong.
5 They don’t have troubles like other people;
they’re not plagued with problems like everyone else.
6 They wear pride like a jeweled necklace
and clothe themselves with cruelty.
7 These fat cats have everything
their hearts could ever wish for!
8 They scoff and speak only evil;
in their pride they seek to crush others.
9 They boast against the very heavens,
and their words strut throughout the earth.
10 And so the people are dismayed and confused,
drinking in all their words.
11 “What does God know?” they ask.
“Does the Most High even know what’s happening?”
12 Look at these wicked people—
enjoying a life of ease while their riches multiply.
13 Did I keep my heart pure for nothing?
Did I keep myself innocent for no reason?
14 I get nothing but trouble all day long;
every morning brings me pain.
15 If I had really spoken this way to others,
I would have been a traitor to your people.
16 So I tried to understand why the wicked prosper.
But what a difficult task it is!
17 Then I went into your sanctuary, O God,
and I finally understood the destiny of the wicked.
18 Truly, you put them on a slippery path
and send them sliding over the cliff to destruction.
19 In an instant they are destroyed,
completely swept away by terrors.
20 When you arise, O Lord,
you will laugh at their silly ideas
as a person laughs at dreams in the morning.
21 Then I realized that my heart was bitter,
and I was all torn up inside.
22 I was so foolish and ignorant—
I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you.
23 Yet I still belong to you;
you hold my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel,
leading me to a glorious destiny.
25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
I desire you more than anything on earth.
26 My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,
but God remains the strength of my heart;
he is mine forever.
27 Those who desert him will perish,
for you destroy those who abandon you.
28 But as for me, how good it is to be near God!
I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter,
and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do.
A Facebook
post by a young friend made me turn to this passage again this morning.
I believe it is my favorite Psalm. My friend, Rich Gelina, posted something a short while
ago on his blog, Why Does God Allow Evil in the World?
I think this psalm answers that question—God is being merciful just
now. He is storing up, saving His wrath for the day of destruction when
the wicked will feel the full penalty of their disobedience. Meanwhile,
He draws men to Him, and by saving the ungodly, God shows His incredible
mercy toward sinful men.
A better question would be this, What IF God did take care of evil in the world? Suppose today, this next moment, God decided enough was enough, and today He was going to make it right—no more evil would exist on this planet. What would this world look like? How many of us would remain standing in our own righteousness? Instead, Peter tells us, “By the same word the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire, being kept for the day of judgment and destruction of ungodly men. But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”
Yes, God is demonstrating His patience toward us by withholding His wrath for a time. The question is, will we respond to His mercy, His free gift of salvation, or will we stubbornly store up wrath for the day of destruction?
The Road Less Traveled
I was ten years old when I learned that there are two roads in life: one is wide and leads to destruction; one is narrow and leads to eternal life. When I heard of these two roads, I knew I was not on that road that led to eternal life.
I had grown up in a home where the name of Jesus was an exclamation,
not a name to be revered. The culture in which I lived was one of
self-centered living. The philosophy by which my family lived seemed to
be, “If it makes you happy, do it!” regardless of the consequences. If
life had continued on as it was, I would never have had the opportunity
to hear the Good News of salvation. Yet, in His mercy, God sent a
messenger to me.
While I was quite young, my mother brought in extra cash by
babysitting for other working moms. One particular mother, Mrs. Jean
Palmer, offered to take me to church with her on Sundays, and my mother
allowed me to go. Her son Andy was just a year younger than I, and I
would read his Sunday school take home papers to him. Those early church
experiences were positive. I specifically remember one Sunday when I
was invited up to the front of the Jr. Church class. My new friends sang
Happy Birthday to me, and I was allowed to pick a prize from a wicker
basket. I pulled out a pocket mirror with a picture of Jesus knocking on
a door. I still have that mirror. So when, as a fifth-grader, I was
given an opportunity to attend release time classes at that same church,
I was eager to do so, especially since it meant I could get out of Mrs.
Spitulnik‘s fifth grade classroom for an extra hour each Thursday!
My release time teacher was the pastor’s wife, Mrs. Bailey, and her
assistant just happened to be Mrs. Palmer! I spent the first few months
soaking in the Bible stories and memorizing scripture verses, working
hard to win the prizes she offered. Then, one week when she told the
story of the two roads, I immediately knew which road I was on, and I
very much wanted to start walking on the road that led to eternal life.
After class, I asked my friend Doreen how I could know I was on that
road. She wasn’t sure exactly how to explain it, but she encouraged me
to stay after class the following week and ask Mrs. Bailey to show me
the way.
That following week, I did stay and talk to Mrs. Bailey. I don’t
remember the lesson she taught that day, I was too eager for class to be
over to pay much attention. She explained to me the ABC’s of salvation.
I first needed to admit that I was a sinner. That wasn’t difficult...I
knew I wasn’t righteous! Next, I needed to believe that Jesus came to
earth as a baby, died on the cross for my sins, rose from the dead, and
was now living in Heaven preparing a place for me. After sitting in her
class all those weeks, I knew it was true, and I did believe it. Then I
needed to confess my sins to God and my faith to men. We knelt that day
in an upper room of the church, and I asked Jesus to forgive me of my
sins, and give me the gift of eternal life. Mrs. Bailey prayed for me,
too, that God would strengthen the faith in me, and do what I asked Him
to do.
I left that room, ran down the street to catch up with my friend
Doreen and exclaimed, “I did it”. I wrote in my diary, “today I decided
to follow Christ. Let’s see what happens.”
What has happened since that day is incredible. I left that road of
destruction, and began walking on the path of eternal life. Mrs. Bailey
patiently discipled me. Several adults in my church spent time teaching
me in the principles of God’s word, and patiently watched and coached me
as I grew in God’s grace. Amazingly, I was even able to attend Bible
College—the first in my family ever to attend college, and it was there
that I developed an even greater hunger for God’s Word and God’s Way.
After graduation, I moved to a city in New York to take a job as a
Christian schoolteacher, and it was there I began dating my husband.
As a young girl, I had prayed that God would give me a Christian home
in which to live, and that is precisely what He has done. I have a
sensitive, godly husband who leads his family in serving the Lord. All
four of my children have made a decision to follow Christ as their
Savior, and they made those decisions right here at home. I am able to
stay home with my children and teach them their school lessons from a
biblical worldview. We enjoy each other's company and have long talks
about spiritual things. God has done exceedingly, abundantly above
anything I could ever have asked or thought to ask!
I have had the opportunity to serve in each of the local churches I
have attended in both children’s and worship ministries. It is my desire
to give back to the local church what so many others once invested in
me.
As I look back at the road I could have taken, and the road that I
would most certainly have been on had not God in His grace reached down
and placed me on another, I realize that I have become God’s
workmanship! My senior year in high school I taped a Robert Frost poem,
“The Road not Taken” in the front of my Bible, and the last two lines
sum up my walk with Christ perfectly:
“I shall be telling this with a sigh
somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I—
I took the road less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.”
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I—
I took the road less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.”
A Typical Shopping Trip, Part 2
A Typical Shopping Trip, Part 2
This post originally appeared on By His Grace For His Glory
(Be sure to read “part one” if you haven't yet done so)
Now that the children are safely buckled in the car, fed, and starting to doze off, I start my journey home. The twenty minute ride is fairly peaceful, and I drink it in, knowing what is coming next.
Getting up the snowy hill isn't too bad this time, so I'm hopeful that the driveway will welcome my homecoming. As I approach it, I take a wide right turn and floor it. It appears, hope against hope, that I will make it to the top of the driveway! But alas, just over halfway up, the tires spin and will go no further. Since I'm too exhausted to fight the good fight today, I just park it at the bottom of the driveway, and start the winter routine...
I make sure that the emergency brake is on and that the wheels are turned hard so that if the car starts a slide, it will end up in the woods, not the road (and, by the way, it did slide into the woods more than once). I find the bright orange toboggan to the side of the driveway and steel myself for the work ahead. I open the van door, and extract two children who are awake, plop them on the toboggan and pull them up the driveway. I plant them on the porch and close the gate so they cannot escape. I return to the bottom of the driveway to bring up two more children, one in an infant car seat and the other sitting directly behind, now fussing because they were awakened. Once at the top, I gather all four and herd them inside.
Next, we take off the winter gear (four sets of hats, gloves, mittens, boots, and snowsuits) and leave it in the hallway to be scooped up and put away at a later moment. I dispense juice to all in sippy cups, stopping to wipe up a spill or two, wipe a runny nose, or settle a disagreement. Then begins the diaper/pullup/potty routine. Finally, I place my properly hydrated and dry-bottomed children into the living room and turn on PBS or a Psalty video, then secure the gates so that the sweet, angelic munchkins don't wander off while I go retrieve the groceries.
Once again, I don my winter gear, grab the toboggan and carefully descend to the car. I've learned from some not so pleasant experiences that if I stay out of the tire tracks and instead walk to the side of the driveway, there's a litte more traction, which prevents an unpleasant slip or fall.
Back at the van, I carefully load up the groceries on the toboggan. I smile smugly as I remember the disdain on the bagger's face when I asked for paper instead of plastic. The paper bags sit neatly on the toboggan, and I don't have to stop to retrieve slippery plastic bags that fall off on the way up the hill. Bummer, I think, as I see there are more bags than will fit on the toboggan for one run. Alas, I must trek back up the hill and plop these bags in the kitchen, so I put on my happy (now winter blasted) face and trudge up the hill once again.
Arriving at the top of the hill, I silently wish for a dumb waiter or ramp so I can just pull the stuff up the stairs. But no, I carry a bag in each arm up the stairs and put them in the kitchen. "Nuts!" I exclaim as I retrieve the five year old ADHD child (who has escaped the gated living room)from the pantry cabinet. At least, I think, she didn't open the gate and let the younger ones out. I return her, with a stern warning (or was it an open threat??) to the living room. I scowl as I walk back to the kitchen, realizing that I have tracked dirt and snow across the kitchen floor and down the hallway. I hastily put away the freezer items and head back out for trip number two(or is that four??).
After putting the last of the bags on the toboggan, I check for left behind bottles, sippy cups, pacifiers, or a misplaced glove or boot. I lock the doors and begin my final ascent. There's a sense of mixed relief and dread. I am "done" with the driveway debacle, but inside are a week's worth of groceries that must be put away, and there is no way any sane woman would ask her toddlers to help do that. I count my blessings and arrive blessedly peaceful at the house.
That peaceful feeling is immediately turned to panic as I step inside the kitchen to see that TWO have escaped, and are rummaging through the grocery bags. For a moment I dream that these two cherubs have decided to help mommy put away the groceries. The bubble bursts when I see that they have found a snack and are trying to open the box. I growl loudly and warn the monsters, (sorry... I meant angelic cherubs) that "mean mommy" is just outside the door and if they don't hastily retreat to the living room, I am going to let her in. The scurry back to the living room, properly terrified, and I can begin the process of putting away groceries.
I would love to tell you that once I started unloading bags, I kept up until those bags were all emptied, folded and put away. But, I'm being honest here, so I must report that I put away only those things that would spoil if left out. Once that's done, I pass wearily by the stacks of dishes that should be done, through the dirt/snow covered hallway to dump my coat and boots on the pile of winter gear that must be put away at a future moment, and then retire to the couch for a snuggle session with the kids.
About an hour later I awaken to the sounds of children who are bored with the TV and fighting over some toy which both must have "right now". I also hear a howling infant who has realized that it's been a few hours since the last feeding. Ahh, this is the music of my day. Share the symphony with me!
A few minutes later after baby is fed and changed, I get out the crayons and paper for the two oldest (the others are napping now...) and head back out to the kitchen to put away the last of the groceries. Then I tackle the pile of clothes in the hallway. I'm feeling majorly productive, and a bit worried since the girls aren't interrupting me. I peek in the living room and they are still busy with crayons and paper. What a gift!! I use the extra time to load the dishwasher and wipe up my mess on the kitchen floor.
Suddenly, two sweet baby girls call me into the living room. "Mommy, come look!" they beg. I groan inwardly, wondering which wall will need some some masterpiece scrubbed off of it. But instead I am greeted by two smiling faces and two love notes (two of many that I have kept). Suddenly the toy strewn floor and the overturned crayon box are invisible. We walk out to the refrigerator and put my love notes up where I can see them while I work. Then, in a fit of playfulness I hug, kiss, and start tickling my toddlers. The giggles peal out like bells on Easter Sunday.
You know, maybe it wasn't so bad after all....
(Be sure to read “part one” if you haven't yet done so)
Now that the children are safely buckled in the car, fed, and starting to doze off, I start my journey home. The twenty minute ride is fairly peaceful, and I drink it in, knowing what is coming next.
Getting up the snowy hill isn't too bad this time, so I'm hopeful that the driveway will welcome my homecoming. As I approach it, I take a wide right turn and floor it. It appears, hope against hope, that I will make it to the top of the driveway! But alas, just over halfway up, the tires spin and will go no further. Since I'm too exhausted to fight the good fight today, I just park it at the bottom of the driveway, and start the winter routine...
I make sure that the emergency brake is on and that the wheels are turned hard so that if the car starts a slide, it will end up in the woods, not the road (and, by the way, it did slide into the woods more than once). I find the bright orange toboggan to the side of the driveway and steel myself for the work ahead. I open the van door, and extract two children who are awake, plop them on the toboggan and pull them up the driveway. I plant them on the porch and close the gate so they cannot escape. I return to the bottom of the driveway to bring up two more children, one in an infant car seat and the other sitting directly behind, now fussing because they were awakened. Once at the top, I gather all four and herd them inside.
Next, we take off the winter gear (four sets of hats, gloves, mittens, boots, and snowsuits) and leave it in the hallway to be scooped up and put away at a later moment. I dispense juice to all in sippy cups, stopping to wipe up a spill or two, wipe a runny nose, or settle a disagreement. Then begins the diaper/pullup/potty routine. Finally, I place my properly hydrated and dry-bottomed children into the living room and turn on PBS or a Psalty video, then secure the gates so that the sweet, angelic munchkins don't wander off while I go retrieve the groceries.
Once again, I don my winter gear, grab the toboggan and carefully descend to the car. I've learned from some not so pleasant experiences that if I stay out of the tire tracks and instead walk to the side of the driveway, there's a litte more traction, which prevents an unpleasant slip or fall.
Back at the van, I carefully load up the groceries on the toboggan. I smile smugly as I remember the disdain on the bagger's face when I asked for paper instead of plastic. The paper bags sit neatly on the toboggan, and I don't have to stop to retrieve slippery plastic bags that fall off on the way up the hill. Bummer, I think, as I see there are more bags than will fit on the toboggan for one run. Alas, I must trek back up the hill and plop these bags in the kitchen, so I put on my happy (now winter blasted) face and trudge up the hill once again.
Arriving at the top of the hill, I silently wish for a dumb waiter or ramp so I can just pull the stuff up the stairs. But no, I carry a bag in each arm up the stairs and put them in the kitchen. "Nuts!" I exclaim as I retrieve the five year old ADHD child (who has escaped the gated living room)from the pantry cabinet. At least, I think, she didn't open the gate and let the younger ones out. I return her, with a stern warning (or was it an open threat??) to the living room. I scowl as I walk back to the kitchen, realizing that I have tracked dirt and snow across the kitchen floor and down the hallway. I hastily put away the freezer items and head back out for trip number two(or is that four??).
After putting the last of the bags on the toboggan, I check for left behind bottles, sippy cups, pacifiers, or a misplaced glove or boot. I lock the doors and begin my final ascent. There's a sense of mixed relief and dread. I am "done" with the driveway debacle, but inside are a week's worth of groceries that must be put away, and there is no way any sane woman would ask her toddlers to help do that. I count my blessings and arrive blessedly peaceful at the house.
That peaceful feeling is immediately turned to panic as I step inside the kitchen to see that TWO have escaped, and are rummaging through the grocery bags. For a moment I dream that these two cherubs have decided to help mommy put away the groceries. The bubble bursts when I see that they have found a snack and are trying to open the box. I growl loudly and warn the monsters, (sorry... I meant angelic cherubs) that "mean mommy" is just outside the door and if they don't hastily retreat to the living room, I am going to let her in. The scurry back to the living room, properly terrified, and I can begin the process of putting away groceries.
I would love to tell you that once I started unloading bags, I kept up until those bags were all emptied, folded and put away. But, I'm being honest here, so I must report that I put away only those things that would spoil if left out. Once that's done, I pass wearily by the stacks of dishes that should be done, through the dirt/snow covered hallway to dump my coat and boots on the pile of winter gear that must be put away at a future moment, and then retire to the couch for a snuggle session with the kids.
About an hour later I awaken to the sounds of children who are bored with the TV and fighting over some toy which both must have "right now". I also hear a howling infant who has realized that it's been a few hours since the last feeding. Ahh, this is the music of my day. Share the symphony with me!
A few minutes later after baby is fed and changed, I get out the crayons and paper for the two oldest (the others are napping now...) and head back out to the kitchen to put away the last of the groceries. Then I tackle the pile of clothes in the hallway. I'm feeling majorly productive, and a bit worried since the girls aren't interrupting me. I peek in the living room and they are still busy with crayons and paper. What a gift!! I use the extra time to load the dishwasher and wipe up my mess on the kitchen floor.
Suddenly, two sweet baby girls call me into the living room. "Mommy, come look!" they beg. I groan inwardly, wondering which wall will need some some masterpiece scrubbed off of it. But instead I am greeted by two smiling faces and two love notes (two of many that I have kept). Suddenly the toy strewn floor and the overturned crayon box are invisible. We walk out to the refrigerator and put my love notes up where I can see them while I work. Then, in a fit of playfulness I hug, kiss, and start tickling my toddlers. The giggles peal out like bells on Easter Sunday.
You know, maybe it wasn't so bad after all....
A Typical Shopping Trip, Part 1
A Typical Shopping Trip...
This post originally appeared on By His Grace For His GlorySo what was life like after that “surprise” came along? People have remarked that I must be amazing to be able to handle all those kids so close in age. I wish I could report that they were correct in their thinking, but I commonly reply, “No, God's Grace is Amazing.”
I thought, however, I would add a few anecdotes in my next few posts about what life was like back then—the insanity, the chaos, the disposable diapers (you have NOOOO idea...), the wet kisses and sticky hugs that were not short in number, and even how I handled discipline. I claim no originality for the coping mechanisms that worked because they were either accidentally happened upon after much trial and error, or gathered from others who had walked the path before me. I will, however, claim complete responsibility for the failures (if I am brave enough to post them...) even though blaming my kids for my shortcomings would be the easier route to take.
As a starter, I thought I'd give young mothers of multiple youngins and curious onlookers a glimpse into a typical shopping day. I'll admit, this narrative isn't one particular trip, but it does represent things that really happened; some of them all on the same day.
Since setting is really important in a good story, I want to you to picture the spot where we lived when the kids were very young. We lived smack dab in snow country in Central NY. Add to that the reality that we lived at a high elevation on what southerners here would have considered a mountain and had a driveway that went up at a "decent" pitch for over 200 feet.
It’s January, and I desparately need bread, milk, cereal, and some vittles for the hard working hubby. There’s just no getting around it, I must venture out for groceries. After strapping up my attitude, I gather up the kids’ winter gear and begin dressing four youngins to brave the elements: four snowsuits, four knit caps, four sets of mittens, four pairs of boots. And, lest you think I was some organization wizard, it took time to locate all the pairs. Mind you, these children were not unusual toddlers; they wriggled, fought, complained, and inevitably would soil a diaper once they were totally bundled up. After a good forty minutes (ten minutes per kid...)I'd herd them into the minivan, buckle them into four carseats amidst loud protests (who would want to be confined in a carseat with a snowsuit on??), and carefully slide the car down the driveway.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the grocery store. As I park, I silently bless the person who thought of special parking near the door for “Parents with small children”—after all, that’s a handicap in and of itself! It is no small feat to safely unlatch four children and get them from the parking lot into the store. I had a routine, though. After each child emerged from the van, they had to put one hand on the vehicle while I unbuckled the others. It worked fairly well, if I do say so myself. With the baby’s carseat on my hip and three others holding hands, we would navigate the parking lot.
Once inside we get two shopping carts. I clip the youngest’s portable carseat onto the seat portion of one shopping cart, stick another older toddler in the seat of the second cart, and put the two smallest into a basket, surrounding them with the winter gear we have shed. Now that I have created a spectacle, I begin pushing the two carts (one in front, one pulled behind) down the aisle. Of course, my angelic children played quietly and let me comparison shop, NOT! I routinely stop to break up a fight, patiently (ahem) acknowledge a “mommy, look!”, or glare at a child and say through gritted teeth, “we’ll settle this at home!” Needless to say, curious onlookers stop me to ask, “Are they all yours?” I am tempted to say that I run a daycare in my home, but I grudgingly answer, "Yes."
After about an hour of wandering aisles and filling up the empty basket, oh, and trips to the restroom for the one potty training toddler, I checkout and then the process of bundling up begins again. This time we even make it out of the store with all of the mittens and hats.
At the car, I strap the four in their car seats, deliver a snack to each (except the infant, who at this time really wanted to nurse and is letting it be known...), then proceed to put the groceries in the back of the minivan. I then unbundle and sit in the passengers seat to deliver lunch to the infant, then plop him back into the carseat and head for home.
Look for installment number two soon—arriving home and putting away the groceries...
Surprise!
Surprise
It was my 35th birthday. Around me stood my husband of ten years, my
nearly four-year-old, nearly three-year-old, and my fourteen-month-old.
"Make a wish, mommy! Make a wish!" were the cries of the little ones.
As I watched the flickering candles and listened to the noise, I
quipped, "I know what NOT to wish for!" Taking in a deep breath I blew
out all but one of the candles. A week later I knew that my wish would
not be coming true this year...I was pregnant once again.
Overwhelmed would not be an adequate word to describe what I felt. Granted, hormones were at peak levels, but I spent the next three days crying and telling God that He could not possibly know what He had signed me up for. I even pondered the verse, "He was in all points tempted, even as we are." and thought, yeah, right, I'm not buying it.
By God's grace, my sense of humor took over, and I began to look at things a little differently. I won't tell you it was a major change of attitude, as I kept remarking "that's all I need is one more toddler to pull out of things!!". But I was heading in the right direction. So I sat down and penned this poem. It became my "announcement" to friends and family who would be frowning at our reproductive habits. (And we did get lectured, by the way!). Enjoy—
If you're surprised, well so are we. Ourselves, we were content with three.
But God had other plans in store, Our children, soon, will number four.
What's more our baby will arrive before the oldest one turns five.
One more carseat, one more bed! Such thoughts run rampant in my head.
Another year of little sleep, while I, my midnight vigil keep.
My weight loss plans I must postpone—my body's once again on loan.
And yet, you'll find no sadness here; some panic, yes, but not a tear.
In fact, it's hard to hide the smile; For I know in just awhile
Our Father's sending from above Another child for us to love.
And though budget's now too small, you won't find us upset at all.
Far greater than a cache of gold is the child we soon shall hold.
The fruit of the womb is His reward, so join us as we praise the Lord.
Mary Fuller (May 97)
Overwhelmed would not be an adequate word to describe what I felt. Granted, hormones were at peak levels, but I spent the next three days crying and telling God that He could not possibly know what He had signed me up for. I even pondered the verse, "He was in all points tempted, even as we are." and thought, yeah, right, I'm not buying it.
By God's grace, my sense of humor took over, and I began to look at things a little differently. I won't tell you it was a major change of attitude, as I kept remarking "that's all I need is one more toddler to pull out of things!!". But I was heading in the right direction. So I sat down and penned this poem. It became my "announcement" to friends and family who would be frowning at our reproductive habits. (And we did get lectured, by the way!). Enjoy—
Surprise!
We got the news the other day, another baby's on the wayIf you're surprised, well so are we. Ourselves, we were content with three.
But God had other plans in store, Our children, soon, will number four.
What's more our baby will arrive before the oldest one turns five.
One more carseat, one more bed! Such thoughts run rampant in my head.
Another year of little sleep, while I, my midnight vigil keep.
My weight loss plans I must postpone—my body's once again on loan.
And yet, you'll find no sadness here; some panic, yes, but not a tear.
In fact, it's hard to hide the smile; For I know in just awhile
Our Father's sending from above Another child for us to love.
And though budget's now too small, you won't find us upset at all.
Far greater than a cache of gold is the child we soon shall hold.
The fruit of the womb is His reward, so join us as we praise the Lord.
Mary Fuller (May 97)
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