In The Nest

Viewing your home as the jumping off place, and seeing the Lord's hand in it all.

A new acquaintance— someone who knows me only in the context of the last few months, and only through limited interaction— asked yesterday how I manage the day to day of homeschooling "so many kids" and "older kids." It took me a minute to register that she wasn't asking for perspective on managing kindergarten and college at the same time, or how I recommend handling multiple emergent readers while preoccupied with a text from a married, adult daughter on the other side of the globe.

She only knows six of my children. But since she's heard that I am "the woman with a lot of children," and six is, "so many kids," well... I'm one of the woman that drives to the library each week with more than the average brood, high school and down. I must have some idea what I'm doing, right?

Which, of course, I kind of do. Except... sometimes I don't. And... I have other kids, too. Six at home, four out in the world. All unique people. All individuals. All of whom have shaped me as I've walked this path of sanctification called motherhood. Does this make me an expert? Oh, no. But it does make me a step ahead of others just putting their feet to the path, and that has value when you're charting your own course.

I didn't feel I needed to tell this new friend that I've graduated children from our homeschool, or that this particular spread feels easy thanks to the absence of foundational work (like teaching reading) in the mix for the next couple of years. Instead, I concentrated on where she is, with her oldest now a competent reader but her youngest still a toddler. It was a good chat, and one that encouraged me as well. It's always refreshing to hear from a younger mom, someone who hasn't maybe navigated some of those confidence-shaking rough spots of the later years. We older moms tend to pray for each other a lot more, and to reassure one another that the Holy Spirit is at work in our children's hearts. Younger moms are still fresh in the fields of discovering how to lay the foundations of the faith that will guide later choices; I need to be reminded of the sweetness of that season from time to time without always looking so far down the road. I think we all do.

Eventually, this mom will figure out that I'm not just a late bloomer who started building her family in her mid-30s, but instead a long-hauler who has had babies in the 90s, 00s, 10s, and 20s. But right now, on a day to day basis, this is the crew in my nest. These six curious, spunky, challenging, intelligent young people I am blessed to call my own. It's been a fabulous experience, focusing only on them educationally right now. They have grown, and I have stepped back to see it progress. The uppermost layer gone, these wings still here have unfolded and I have watched as relationships have blossomed, as dynamics have shifted, and as new talents have emerged. Seeing this season again, just as it was more than a decade ago when my first batch of kids entered it, has made me realize yet again how blessed I am to have such a spread of people under my own roof.

So, though I'm sure I looked a little muddled in the first moments of that conversation, I'm glad for the chance to share what I have learned this second go round. I'm happy I got to talk about the role of the oldest child in a larger brood (even if the "oldest" isn't chronologically older). I'm delighted that maybe my hard-won "fill the buckets of the littles ones first" tip might make someone else's days a little smoother. And I'm thrilled, as always, to encourage people not to look at the hardest parts of the years of raising young children and assume that the physical exhaustion and delicate balances remain the same throughout the active parenting years. They don't. Finally, I tried to impress on her that the numbers aren't what matters. It's about the faith, the vision.

Our nest isn't full right now. Honestly, I don't know that it will ever be. We have added the titles of “in-laws” after our name, and are known to three amazing little ones as “Boompa,” and “Marmee,” now. Recently, a friend posted a photo to Facebook that took my breath away. In it, she and her husband posed with their ten children, five sons-in-law, and two daughters-in-law. Twenty grandchildren are gathered around them, pre-teens to babies— and of course, two of her daughters are hugely pregnant. A family photo of forty-one people. How does one even gather the courage to pray for such a thing, to ask such a gracious and loving God who has already blessed you with so much to allow you that extra measure, too? Imagine the impact of such a family, if each person were to specifically dedicate him- or herself to passionately pursuing the calling the Lord has placed on his or her life?

But if the Lord has decreed that your quiver is full with one or two children, that eventual family portrait is no less awe-inspiring. These years invested, these hours spent shaping hearts and teaching math— they sow seeds for eternity. I have total confidence that the Lord will water these seeds, and that He desires to grow them for His glory. Our daily work here feathering our little nests, tending our own chicks whether they are babes in arms or teenagers with acne is Kingdom work. And Kingdom work is not about numbers. It's not about figuring out how to stay sane while juggling potty training and diagramming sentences, or how to manage laundry and still get your kids outside to experience nature. It's about the labor being worth that one soul, that one single person given to you in that moment to gently lead to the Father and to demonstrate the sacrificial love of Christ. It's about your nest being your own church, not a school.

I am not an expert, but I know this much. Maybe someone else needed to hear it today.

In Christ,

Heather