When did it happen???

I can clearly remember saying to myself in my silly little 12-year-old airheaded mind "I hope I don't wind up being too much like her when I grow up... she never has any fun!" Of course the "her" was my mother. I also clearly remember the night that it first happened. I was eighteen years old, 7 months pregnant, working as a cashier at a local supermarket. It was getting close to closing time, and we didn't have many customers. I had been standing still behind the register for awhile and needed to stretch my legs a bit, so I walked out in front of the line. About 5 feet in front of me and to my left, there was a display of sunglasses, with a narrow mirror on the side facing me. Of course, I wasn't looking at that display, I was looking down the aisle straight in front of me: the candy aisle. Just as I was thinking about getting a bag of Mr. Goodbar minis, I could swear that I saw my mother standing ahead and just to my left. I jerked my head in that direction, when I realized, with complete shock, that I had seen my mother in my reflection from that narrow mirror. Being already married and pregnant, my condition negated the fact that I was only eighteen, and I thought to myself that I was actually relieved to find that I did have some of my mother in me (although I would certainly have disowned myself if, at 12 or 13 years of age, I had known that my final verdict would be in approval of such a heresy). And now, almost exactly 10 years after that fateful night, I have found myself once again seeing my mother in me. However, she's not in my reflection now (though, to be sure, I have seen her there a few more times), but mostly in my words. I guess then, a more appropriate way of saying it is that I am "hearing" my mother in me. She mostly comes out when I'm having one of two specific types of discussions with my kids. The first (and most frequent, sadly) is when I'm discussing teenage drama with my teenager. Her questions and issues are so complicated, sometimes I don't even want to get into it. But somewhere along her third or fourth sentence, a sudden rush of inspiration will come over me, and it's like I can see clearly through all the emotion to the core of the issue, and I can ping it every time. There usually is no joy in that moment, however, because neither do I think it's pleasant to confront her on those issues, nor do I really know what to say to help her or give her a more appropriate perspective on things. But somewhere around my second or third sentence in response, I get this sudden rush of perspective, and it's like I can see how to approach it in an understandable, yet gentle way. And then, somewhere around the sixth or seventh sentence of my response, I start to hear her, and I realize that it's not even me speaking. Somehow unbeknownst to me, she finds her way into my head, and all the things she used to say to me find their way back to my mind, and that's what spills forth out of my mouth. Now, on the one side, I'm rather disappointed about this, because just once, I'd really like to come up with something original to be helpful to my daughter. But then, on the other hand, I think that if I was made to say something completely original and was somehow supernaturally prevented from drawing on anything that my mother ever said to me, I would be at a complete loss, and wind up saying to my poor daughter, after she had poured out her heart and all of it's confused loneliness to me, something like, "Yes, well... ahem. I think then, that the best, uh... the best thing to do is, um, .... ahem .... probably just to ... um, go and uh.... go thou... yes, go thou and sin... um... sin no more. And, um... and that will probably take care of it." So I guess hearing her is a bittersweet thing to have in this case. It always gives me just the right words to say, while making it painfully clear that I have no imagination of my own. After reflecting on this for awhile, I can only say, "Oh, well.... it is what it is."

The second (and much more pleasant) conversation that I always find her in is when we're discussing a Bible passage. When her words spring forth from my voice on these matters, I'm always extremely happy because I can hardly wait for the "her" that's coming out of my mouth to stop talking long enough to go tell the real "her" that I have learned and remembered all of her lessons from my childhood. I had the unique privilege of being able to call both my classroom teacher and my Sunday School teacher "Mom". As most of you know, I was homeschooled, and we always had "Bible" as part of our curriculum. When I was 12, my mom began teaching my Sunday School class at church, which she continued to do until after I got too old for that class and began to go to Youth Group with the "Big Kids". Many times, we would continue discussions on the way home of spiritual matters, and if nothing else, I always trusted that if it was anywhere in the Bible, my mother had it memorized, and if it wasn't to be found in any of the 66 books, the footnotes, the concordance, the dictionary, or the little maps in the back, no one could fool her into believing it was there. I learned so much from her. And now, when my own kids ask me a question, and I begin to explain it to them, I always know it's her speaking, because as I'm watching the light of understanding dawn on their faces, I'm feeling it dawn in my own mind as well. Now, lest you think I've gone and lost my mind, let me explain, although it is a bit difficult to explain properly. Even if I do not understand something, if I begin to "teach" it to someone else, it all becomes clear. I guess you could say it's a gift that I've always had. That's how I finally came to understand Algebra - when I taught it to my daughter. That's also the way I got through both of my Anatomy and Physiology courses in college with a 4.0 GPA. When I didn't understand a single word of what I was reading in my textbook, I would begin to read it aloud to my three year old, but I didn't stop there. I also undertook to put it into more simple words, as if I was really trying to teach her college A&P. As I did so, understanding would begin to dawn on me, and I would finally understand what was before me (I cannot say the same thing about my three year old - she continued to be ignorant of the text). Now, that explanation works for something like anatomy and physiology, but when it comes to spiritual issues and child-rearing issues, I maintain that they are my mother's words finding their way out of my mouth. Perhaps this is just one thing that God is doing for me so that, many years from now, God willing, when she is called to go Home, I'll be comforted knowing that a part of her voice will live on through me.

A book

Last week, when my little nephew was born (and that is a thrilling thing for me to be able to say, because I've never had any nieces or nephews except once, and they became my son and daughters), my dad was having trouble getting a hold of anyone in the hospital room to get the latest updates. In desperation, he called me to see if I had been there and had the latest. Fortunately for his frustration, I did, so I told him all the happenings that I thought he might not have been aware of yet. We talked for several minutes about the baby, his health, my sister, her health, and the fact that (according to my father) my mother refuses to ever answer her phone out of sheer spite because she knows it vexes him so much. Finally, as we were about to end the conversation, he said suddenly, "Oh! I remember now! I meant to tell you last week to go to the library and check out a book called 'If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, Why am I in the Pits?' by a lady named Erma Bombeck." My silence assured him that I had no idea where in love's name he came up with that. He then explained, "When your mom and I were first married, we heard about that book, and she read it to me. It was pretty funny. She did what you were talking about doing: taking her life experiences and writing about them in a funny way. I don't know why, but for some reason the other day, the thought just hit me out of nowhere that I should tell you to go to the library and check out her book. I don't know why; I haven't thought of her in about 30 years." It was funny in a coincidental way that he had said that to me. In fact, I have already written a "book" of my own. Parts of it are very funny, but it wasn't written as a comedy. Once I wrote it, I didn't know what else to do with it. So it's just been sitting here on my computer for nearly a year. I suppose now, it could definitely do with some additions and revisions. But, just for curiosity's sake, I wonder... what would happen if I pursued this vision of publishing my book? How awesome and amazing would that be, to have a real book out there with my name on it? I wonder what God might do with it. Maybe I wouldn't have to get a regular job afterall.

In reading this over, I have come to the conclusion that it is about as interesting as a wet dish rag, and I'm almost ashamed to publish it (this is perhaps one reason why I only have three readers, and I'm certain to lose the new one after this). But I reckon that if I can't be real and discuss the things that are really on my mind, even if it isn't "interesting" to everyone else, then what good is there in having a blog?

Ok... Let's get off the rollercoaster!!

Ok, after that extremely depressing post, I'm afraid things did not get any better. Saturday night was absolutely horrible in ways that I am loathe to explain publicly, and Sunday morning was not any more promising. Thank You, Lord Jesus, for my Small Group family!! Sunday night we met as usual, listened to a fantastic sermon on the internet by Paul Washer, and then had prayer. I was able to pour my heart out to all of them, and let me tell you, some real ministry took place for me last night. They rallied around me, encouraged me, prayed for me, prayed over me (which is different than just praying for me), and then just loved on me. Oddly enough, none of them are married, or have any kids. But as I told them all, you don't have to be married or be a parent in order to know God's truths. I would like to encourage anyone who, at any time, may read this: if you have a small group, and you don't routinely feel refreshed and encouraged after you've been in their company, then you need to find a new small group! And if you don't have a small group at all, I strongly encourage you to find one. They should be people you can trust, and people that, when you share a struggle or a trial that you're going through, instantly gather around you and lift you up before God in prayer. Mind you, I'm talking about authoritative prayer, not this pansy-mamsy "Dear God, please bless this person, and help all their troubles go away and all their dreams come true" kind of prayer that too many of today's so-called "Christians" are buying into. I'm talking about the kind of prayer where you can feel that they are doing battle with the powers of darkness for you, using their own shields of faith to protect you, and taking the blows themselves. That's the kind of prayer that I received last night, and I left there feeling a renewed sense of hope and even of joy; I felt infused with a new strength to get back up and keep on keeping on. Dear Void... that is what God created the church for!! If your church doesn't do that for you, then you're in the wrong place!! Your church family should be a comfort to you! Going to church should be a joy, not a drain. And if you ever experience what I experienced last night, when my Small Group family poured out their love to me, you would understand why I'm talking like this! I literally felt that God was expressing HIS love to me through them, and that is one of the most powerful feelings in the world!

Ever feel overwhelmed??

That's about what I'm feeling right now. Remember my last post, when I said that it was everything I could do to squeeze five days out of my busy schedule for my 10th anniversary celebration in Cancun? I only thought the first two days after coming back was the worst of it. I'm STILL paying for that time away. It seems like the life of relative ease with just three children, all my own, with no help from the State that I traded in for this life with eight children, the State being in my business, and all the busyness thereof, is just snickering and taunting me from the far reaches of my memory. Oh, for the days of small cars, grocery shopping trips that only required one basket, and only two laundry days per week! My dear internet Void, I must confess that, as horrible a mother as it makes me, I sometimes wish with all my heart that I had not undertaken this challenge. Had I not undertaken this challenge, I would be an RN by now, finished with my education and working at a hospital near me making close to $50,000 a year working only three days per week. And yet, here I find myself, up to my elbows in whining, fighting, name-calling, dirty dishes, dirty clothes, a dirty house that is one fourth the size we need it to be, teenage drama, dentist and doctors appointments galore, and a dirty, ugly bus of a 15 passenger van that is falling apart (literally). It's at times like this that it is most difficult to answer the question that haunts my conscience: Was it really worth it? My heart cries out, "Yes! YES!! Yes, it WAS worth it! Don't worry, Jen, this too shall pass!! You'll see! It IS worth it!" But my tired body, which feels 42 years of age instead of my actual 28, and my exhausted mind seem to be dubious. Doubtful. Unsure. I've been thinking seriously about putting the school age children back in public school. But the unrest that I feel when I think about it is almost equal to my feelings of failure when I think about keeping them here at home, supposedly under the protection of my wings, laughable as it is. What is a person to do when one answer produces an ungodly anxiety, and the other answer makes one want to faint for sheer terror of the incomprehensible ENORMITY of the challenge, making failure practically imminent? There are no other alternatives. It's one or the other. Face Hell, or face Goliath. And that is only one small fraction of the decisions that must be faced. Our home, which is currently to be compared with sardines packed in a can (a very old, falling apart can), seems to be refusing to be sold, leaving us in a most uncomfortable position. How can we keep on hoping that God has a house better suited for us, when He is clearly not causing that to happen? Our house has been on the market since the last part of July. It is now the end of October. The holidays are fast approaching, as is my brother's marriage, which will require us to move our necessities that we could most do without to make room, back in here with us; that in and of itself is an overwhelming thought. Where in love's name will we put it all?!? Alas, I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is only a fleeting issue. Before I know it, the children will be grown and moved away, having families of their own. Their perspectives of their respective childhoods will be different from my perspective, I dare say. Jesus said, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Right now, my heart is in the midst of an epic tug-of-war between these earthly cares, and Godly pursuits. Which one is my treasure REALLY in, if indeed, as Jesus said, "you will know them by their fruits". I confess, dear Void, sometimes I don't really think I want to see the answer to that question. Pray for me, please. I feel so weak sometimes.

Alright... so I can officially say that I have become a more well-rounded person over this past week.... in more ways than one. First of all, I entered an airport for the first time in my life, checked baggage for the first time in my life, flew on a commercial flight for the first time in my life, traveled internationally for the first time in my life, ate tons of fancy and exotic foods for the first time in my life, and celebrated my anniversary by staying at a posh hotel and resort for the first time in my life. It was absolutely fabulous! I have never been treated so well in all my life, and indeed, it was difficult to come back from being greeted by "Senora Guillen" and having my every wish attended to, to being called, "Hey! Mom!! Will you please tell so-and-so to stop aggravating me?!" and having to be the chauffeur, cook, maid, referee, and so on again. It was nearly all I could do to put my busy family life on hold long enough to escape for four nights and five days. I had a dermatologist appointment for one of the Quads (the four middle children who are around the same ages), and a dentist appointment to get spacers (for braces) for the teenager the DAY BEFORE we left, and then a surgery for one of the Quads six hours after our flight got back into Texas, and two dentist appointments the day after that (one to get actual braces on the teenager, and one cleaning for the youngest who has a serious dental-phobia issue) with the birth of my new nephew thrown in between there somewhere (I've since forgotten the exact order of things in the blur of running on six hours of sleep in the past 72 hours). But, all in all, I have to say that I appreciate the busyness of life as a mother of eight, because it made me appreciate the blissfully relaxing break of those five glorious days in Cancun that much more. I saw people at the resort lounging around looking bored and blank, and they always seemed to look at me as though I was an alien when I would laugh and exclaim over every new thing that I saw (and I saw a lot of those!) At first I felt self-conscious of my naivety, but then I realized that my life is already going by WAY too fast to waste time trying act like a classy, experienced person; that would take too much energy. Instead I decided that those bored, blank, lost people were the ones to be pitied, because they had apparently already forgotten that you should never do things for "fun" that you no longer consider fun, no matter how many other people are "doing it". And I decided that on my vacation, I was going to speak my broken Spanish, no matter how many laughs it might get, I was going to laugh like I had never had so much fun before, and I was going to walk around wide-eyed and full of childish glee and savor every sight, sound, and event that I could. It turned out to be the best thing I could have done, because in freeing myself to be naive and silly, I charmed my husband and everyone around me. Everyone told us that we looked like Honeymooners, because we looked so happy and in love. My husband looked at me with that same fascination that he used to look at me with when he saw me truly delighting in something. I made him feel as though he was still just as capable of impressing me and making me happy as he was 10 years ago. Indeed, he is; but unfortunately, I rarely ever reserve the energy to let him know that. This vacation, and coming back from this vacation, has been one of the best time periods of my married life. Today, in the midst of my migraine from lack of sleep, irritability from the stress of all the dental and surgical "patients" in my house that I now have to manage on top of everything else, and me still running around un-showered and in my pajamas, my husband greeted me with a smile and a vase of my favorite flowers (Star-gazer and Tiger Lillies) when he got home from work, then encouraged me to rest for awhile in bed, and then he got up and made dinner for the family. I am truly blessed beyond measure.

Perhaps I am a bit . . . inconsistent. But don't tell anyone... they all think I'm reliable!

So I just realized how much I've missed out on by not having blogged in 10 months. Perhaps it's been because our year has just been so full of things that I haven't had time to turn around... Who says a mother of eight HAS to blog regularly just because she says she wants to start a blog?? Surely I am exempt from that rule, right? So, for all of the "many", which just means two of you, who are actually reading this, no, I haven't died, nor have I fallen off the face of the earth. I've just been EXTREMELY busy... but I promise on another day not very long from now, I will begin to fill in all the blanks on what has been going on with me and my little family for the past 10 months! Promise!!