Publix Bagger Girl

Some time ago, I was running through the grocery store to grab a couple of needed items.  It's important to note that I had come straight from the dentist and my mouth was numb.  Stupid numb.  I was hoping to not have to talk to anyone.

I quickly grabbed the few things we needed (almost everything we get comes in bulk from Sam's... not much use for Publix nowadays) and headed to the check out line.  I don't recall exactly the order of following events, but I do remember it being chaotic.  One of those times when you feel like you are floating above yourself and then, suddenly, you snap back to reality and wonder what in the world just happened?

My phone rang during check out and I broke my own rule by answering it (the caller and I had been playing phone tag and I knew she only had a simple question that I would be able to answer quickly).  Remember, my mouth is still numb.  I am willing myself to appear as normal as possible.

I hang up and apologize to the cashier for taking a call during checkout (I think that is rude).  As she is scanning my groceries and passing them along to the bagger, she spots a half sheet of paper on the conveyor belt.

"Is this yours?" she asks me.

"It's mine'" replies the bagger, who is in her late teens or maybe early twenties.  "It's some invitation to a church thing.  The lady who gave it to me told me I need to be saved."

The bagger and I make eye contact and without even meaning to, I raise my eyebrows and do some sort of half eye roll.  Before I know it my groceries are bagged, I have paid, and I am heading out the door.  Mouth still numb.  Thankful to have made it through the shopping experience without having to talk....much.

Let me explain the raised eyebrow, half eye roll.  I am not the kind of person who would walk up to a total stranger and say "You need to be saved."  First of all, what does that even mean?  If you have never stepped foot inside a church you might even ask "Saved from what?"  It's just not my style.  I understand that everyone is different.  Not only is it not my style, I really don't think it's all that effective.  I believe that relationships are where life change happen and somehow I doubt that church lady had a relationship with Publix bagger chic.  There are times to be bold.  There are times to step outside of your comfort zone and invite a total stranger to church.  But based on what I know about church folk, and based on what I know about young, skeptical non-church folk, I just don't think telling someone she needs to be saved and inviting her to revival is going to be real successful nowadays.  So I raised my eyebrows a little.  And I paid for my groceries and left.

What happened next I can only describe as intense and clear conviction.  As I am heading out the door at Publix, I realize what my eye roll probably looked like to the bagger.  She didn't have the luxury of being in my head (not that I would call that a luxury...).  For all she knew I thought the whole Jesus thing was a complete farce.  Who needs to be saved anyway?!  What if she had actually planned on going to the church that night?  What if my eye roll sent the message to her that she was fine the way she was?  That we don't really need a Savior?  That the whole religion thing is just a waste of time?

I knew what I had to do.  I needed to go back and talk to her.  I needed to explain that I love God.  I love the church.  And I believe in both.  But that I think so often Christians get it wrong.  And I am sorry for that.

There was only one problem.  My mouth was numb.  Stupid numb.

"I am not walking back over there," I told myself.

The other me muttered something about eternal damnation.  Dag gone conviction.

I went to my car, unloaded my groceries, sat in the driver's seat, key in the ignition, and proceeded to argue with myself.  Then I made a plan.

Yes, I am feeling like a total fool at this point.  I knew going back in there was going to be nothing shy of humiliating.  I also knew that driving away was no longer an option.  I ALSO knew I couldn't talk without sounding like a stroke victim.

I wrote a note.  It went something like this:

"I want to explain my visual reaction to the invitation you received to church.  I realize my response may have made it seem like I thought religion, church, or God were bad ideas and not worth pursuing.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I believe that God made the world and everything in it.  And that you are His finest creation.  I also believe the Church is the hope of the world.  It's God's plan to share His love with everyone.  I believe there are many who are getting it right.  But there are MANY who are not.  I don't know if the lady who gave you the invitation to church was kind to you or not.  I hope that she was.  And if she wasn't, I am sorry.  That's not right.  I just don't want anything I do or say to ever turn someone away from pursuing a relationship with God.  And I realize that me coming back in here to give you this letter is totally creepy and weird.  Again, sorry.  But I couldn't pull away wondering if I had somehow hindered you from seeing God."

I folded up the piece of paper, slid a business card inside, walked back into Publix, and handed it to her.

I see the Publix bagger girl every now and then.  I have no idea if she recognizes me as that psycho Jesus chic.  She doesn't run away screaming, so that's a good sign.  I don't know why conviction strikes when it does.  I just know I get that yucky feeling inside when I don't listen to it.

Hopefully I am learning to temper my responses a little better, and think before I act/speak.  I have also learned not to go to Publix when my mouth is numb.  Stupid numb.

Sticks and Stones

Last week on the way to gymnastics, Asa said, " Mom, Friday this brown skinned boy called me the
S-T-U-P-I-D word."
I asked, "What did you do?"
Matter of factly Asa replied, "I just lived with it.  Nothin' I could do about it anyway."
Lesson from my son.  Next time criticism comes my way, I think I'll let it roll off of me.  Hey, it worked for Asa:)
(PS- not sure why Asa felt the need to refer to the kid as "brown skinned".  If it makes you feel better, he refers to himself as the white kid.  So there.)

Body and Soul

The problem with writing is I think too much about it.  For instance, I sat down to write while eating a bowl of cereal.  I can multitask.  Except now the cereal is gone and I have spent 10 minutes fretting over how to begin a blog post.

First, there's the grammatical component.  If I am anything, I am my father's daughter when it comes to grammar and composition.  A properly constructed sentence is paramount.  There just ain't no way around it...(yes, I did that on purpose).

Second of all, is the question of who I am writing for?  If I think I am writing for someone else's benefit, more fretting ensues.  What I realized tonight is that I need to write for myself.  Or at least try to.  If someone else benefits, great!  If not, that's ok.  It wasn't about them anyway.

In my life there is always a sports parallel.  Some of my earliest memories involve playing on sports teams and practicing with my sister in the back yard.  I LOVE playing sports.  Have never been such a fan of watching them.  But I will play anything.  Turns out some athleticism came pretty naturally for me, and at least according to some, I am pretty coachable as well.  So combine some natural talent, with a deep love of playing, and propensity towards being coached well and you have a recipe for success.  In addition, sports are measurable.  If you are any good, your stats prove it.  There is very little subjective measurement in the arena of athletics.  You either won or you lost.  You scored or you didn't.  You played or you rode the bench.  In life, I like knowing where I stand.  Sports have always just worked for me.

Art, however, or any engagement of creativity, is an entirely different story.  What is art?  Who decides?  How is success measured?  And when it comes to expressing your own creativity, does it really even matter what other people think?

I took some art classes in High School.  I was far from the most talented student in class.  Athletics set me up to anticipate success immediately and, unfortunately, and historically, if I am not immediately good at something new I give it up.  I tried playing guitar.  Once.  I was a good sprinter and one day my coach had me practice hurdles.  Once.  It's not my best quality, but it is true.  I want to be good.  And I want it to happen fast.

That's what surprised me so much when I began taking art classes.  I wasn't the best.  And I didn't care!  I enjoyed the creative process so much that I was able to look beyond the comparisons.  But art class was fifteen years ago and since then I haven't made much time for it.  I guess you could say I've been kind of busy!  What I have made time for consistently over the years is playing sports.  I am really thankful for this and each week I have the opportunity to play soccer and basketball (at times softball).  Continuing athletics is critical to maintaining my sanity.  Staying physically active and competitive is such a vital part of who I am that I can't be separated from it.  I have always known this.

What I didn't know was that nurturing the creative side is also important.  It's not as big of a piece of who I am, but it is there (I am guessing that it is in everyone, to an extent).  While I have enjoyed painting and ceramics in the past, and look forward to doing them again someday, that is not where I am currently finding creative satisfaction.  I have found it in writing.  This shouldn't surprise me, but it does.   I don't know if this will be a new staple in my life, or if it's just a season.  Frequent or not, I can now see that it is something that has always been there, and likely will always be.

So the trick now is to look at writing like I looked at those High School art classes.  I need to put aside the fretting and just enjoy the creative process.  And if that doesn't work, I can always take out my frustrations on the basketball court.

One Step At A Time

I love the idea that Scripture is active and living.  That a story I have read 100xs can suddenly take on a new and significant meaning.  What used to be just another inspirational verse is now chock full of wisdom and deep personal application.

If I had to pick one story that has resonated with me in a new and powerful way, it would be the story of Abraham.  In short, God told him to pack up and go.  Take his family, all of his possessions, and head out.  Abraham is willing but he wants to know the plan (don't we all?).  God basically says "I'll tell you when you get there."  Amazingly, Abraham complies and trusts God.  He heads out.  No map. No itinerary.  Just his family (think more like tribe), their stuff, and a whole lotta desert up ahead.

Seven years ago Ray and I knew it was time for a move.  Asa was newborn and I had recently graduated college.  Ray began sending out resumes (only to beach towns- good thinking', babe!).  He took a job in Sarasota, FL and we were really excited to be moving on.  It seemed like a simple act of obedience, even though we were moving far away from everyone we knew to a new city where we knew no one.  There was more excitement than fear or worry.

I have to wonder how different our response would have been had the whole picture been revealed to us.  All we knew was that we had a kid, a new job in a sweet beach town, and we were packing up.  But what if God had said up front, "I want you to move far away from everyone you know with your newborn son.  You will not make friends quickly or easily.  Next year you will become pregnant again and welcome a daughter to the family.  She will be six weeks old when Jody heads back to work.  A year after that you will buy your first home and renovate it.  You will think this is your forever home but it is not.  The following year you will become foster parents and welcome three, then ultimately six, sweet babies into your family (and by babies I mean teenagers and toddlers).  You will move four times in less than two years.  You'll sell your old home, buy a new one, and renovate it (for two months you will have no kitchen).  Don't worry though, it's gonna be great!!"

Somehow I doubt we would have been so excited about our move to FL.  We may have considered telling God no.  And even if we had said yes, I would have fretted over every minor decision I made from that point on, wondering if it was the right one that would get us to our God-ordained destiny.

Knowing too much too soon can be detrimental to our faithfulness.  And God knows this.  I am thankful for a recent conversation with a friend that reminded me of this truth.  There is power in simple obedience.  I don't need to hyper-plan my life.  Today is enough.

Oh, Mexico!

 This week I had the opportunity to travel to Tapachula, Mexico with my newest friend, Nancy...who just happens to be 75 years old.  We are an unlikely but very compatible traveling duo and I have had such a great week with her.

I didn't have any grand expectations of our trip to Mexico, but I do believe every day there are lessons we can learn if we are open to accepting them.  My main objective, I believe, was to invest in my relationship with Nancy.  She is an unexpected blessing not only in my life, but in the lives of my kiddos.  She has unabashedly taken on the role of grandmother to my kids and I am absolutely loving it.  My mother in law said Nancy "is made to be a grandmother" and I couldn't agree more!

Nancy's story is like most, with layers upon layers just waiting to be uncovered.  I am so pleased that the Lord decided to write her story into ours, and ours into hers. I cannot wait to see how it all ends up.  In the meantime, we went to Mexico:)

As I said, I had no expectations. Aside from being a friend and travel companion, I did not expect any major life lessons.  But as I sit in my hotel room (mariachi in the background) on the second to last night, I believe I am learning a very valuable lesson.

When I left home, I left a very sick household.  Husband, the kids, even the in-laws.  All sick.  The timing was terrible and it was not easy to go.  I still wonder if I made the right decision in leaving.  However, because I was far away and completely helpless, I have had the opportunity to pray often for my family, the only help I could provide.  Praying for them is also something I don't do nearly enough.

Alex is Nancy's grandson, who we are in Mexico to visit.  He is working at an orphanage in Tapachula this year.  It has been great to talk with him this week and get a fresh perspective from a twenty something with no family of his own yet.  It is easy to be enthusiastic about what he is doing right now, and a bit envious.  He just graduated college and is spending a year in Mexico.  After that he is on to Ireland then who knows where else.  He has big plans, and a life full of possibilities and promise.  It would be easy to romanticize a life of travel and independence.

But what I realized this week is I have a life of possibilities and promise too, and I have to look no further than my own living room to find it.  My adventure looks much differently than Alex's, but it is no less exciting.  It is no less fulfilling, mysterious, or wonderful.  My adventure includes unearthing the girl my husband fell in love with many years ago.  It includes kissing my kids' boo boo knees, helping them navigate the world of dating, and making play forts out of sheets.  It includes so much more.

As a mom I realize I have the capacity to set the tone for my entire household.  I can see each day as a new adventure with a story that will be retold time and time again, or I can see it as drudgery (another lunch to pack, another book report due, another shopping list).

I want to choose the adventure.  I want all the little monotonous things to add up to a life that is full of love and laughter, a story worth being told.  So adios, Tapachula.  I am heading home.  Adventure awaits me there:)

Normal. And thankful.

Days like today make me very grateful. Structure is beginning to resume.  Last night I made a meal plan for the next two weeks!  And today I went to all three stores required to pull that meal plan off, and keep us on budget. I cannot tell you how this thrills my heart. And, it is worth noting, that I didn't make it into work until noon. Another gentle reminder that this parenting thing is no joke, that balance is always just outside of reach, and that I am the mother of eight (even though I often try to operate as if I am not).
I asked Ray to start the rice before I got home, and Jessica and Sarah washed and chopped a couple of items needed for dinner. When I did get home from work, the house was clean and dinner was ready to assemble. Izzy worked beside me as we made teriyaki chicken, fried rice, and Asian vegetables. I smiled as we cooked, and I thought, "We actually did this. The idea of adopting six kids presented itself. We prayed about it. And we actually did it."  The decision now feels older than it does new. I hardly think about it any more. But a couple of years ago it was very new. It was on the forefront of every decision we made. It was scary. And exciting. And now it's life.
We ate dinner and the kids behaved like humans. No bickering (except over who got to pray).  No unpleasant table talk. Normal, pleasant conversation. Most of them can help their own plates now. I don't have to cut anyone's food into small bites. When I sit down to eat my food is still hot. Well...warm:) Dinner is enjoyable....finally!
When dinner was over everyone cleared his or her own place. And (this part is really good) they immediately began getting ready for bed.  Teeth brushed. Showers. Jammies. Yes!!!!
Now normal pre-bedtime activities are taking place and I am holed up in my bathroom, where I know I won't be bothered (except by Kristina who is standing at the door waiting patiently:)
No, it is not always like this. Yes, last night I wanted to run away. But, nights like tonight give me hope!  I am thankful for how far we have come. I am thankful for happy, healthy kids. I am thankful for a God who redeemed my life and has allowed me to be a part of His redemption of these kids' lives.  I am thankful that, because of my role as Mom, I can understand more fully His role as Heavenly Father. I'm just thankful. And next time I am not, I will reread this and be reminded. 

Year. One.

This week we celebrated our first official year together as a family of 10.  In some ways, I can't believe a year has already passed.  In other ways, I can't believe it's only been a year.  It's like the first time we visited our parents after Asa was born, and we sat around wondering what IN THE WORLD did we talk about before he has born?!  It's hard to remember what life was like before.  In many way I feel like these kids have always been a part of my life.  But it's important to remember that their perspective is much different.  For them, there was life before.  Good and bad.  And for all of us I think it's good to remember where we've come from, what we can learn from it, and how it has prepared us for what's to come.  So looking back at our first year as the Jester10, here are some things I remember....

Keep in mind our journey towards Mega_Family_Hood was somewhat staggered.  We had a decent warming up period.  Asa was born in 2005.  Gretchen came almost two years later.  We bought a 3 bedroom, 2 bath home and declared our family complete!  A year later we became foster parents.  Brittany moved in with us in July of 2009.  Kristina and Matthew followed in October 2009.  We had almost a year and a half of the seven of us (kids were 2, 2, 3, 4, and 5!) before Izzy, Sarah, and Jessica joined us in December 2010.  Hands down the first year was the hardest!  Three were in diapers.  Two didn't sleep through the night.  All needed help wiping their noses, wiping their bottoms, cutting their food, brushing their teeth, buckling their car seats, putting on shoes, etc etc etc.  Exhausting!!!  Still, even with the warming up period, I remember being very focused on large family logistics when the older 3 girls moved in.  How would we shop?  Cook?  Do laundry?  Carpool?  I read books (The Duggers: 20 and Counting!, The Sane Woman's Guide to Raising a Large Family, and Large Family Logisitics were three of the most helpful).  I read blogs.  I soaked up all the knowledge I could from women who had large families and ran them like well-oiled machines.

This is a picture of my first trip to Sam's after becoming a family of 10.

Yes, that's a log of ground beef.  

Yes, those are restaurant size cans of peaches and fruit cocktail (each will last just one meal).  

Yes, I care about the environment... but not enough to stop buying paper plates.  

We use them a few times a week.  NOT every meal.  Sorry Mother Earth.

About a month after the 3 oldest girls moved in with us, we left our little 3/2 home and moved into a 4/3.  We needed more towels.  More silverware.  More lunch boxes.  More bunk beds!  More pillows.  You get the idea.  What works for 4 just doesn't work for 10.  In an incredibly unselfish and gracious manner, the foster mom who the three older girls had lived with for almost two years, threw us a massive adoption shower.  She loves these girls like crazy.  This was NOT easy for her, or for them.  It was Jesus in action. Seriously awesome.  Combine that with an already amazing church family, and you get the picture below.  Honestly, people, when I rounded the corner to arrive at her home, I seriously thought "Wow, the neighbors must be having a party also."  Nope.  I began to recognize the cars parked along that street.  They were all there for our family.  

I.  LOST.  IT.

They came with towels.  And silverware.  And lunch boxes.

And bedding.  And pillows.

I think about that day a lot.  To say that it was humbling is a huge understatement.  How in the world did we get so many wonderful friends???!!!  A-mazing!

As a new OctoMom, I had two main logistical concerns.  One of them was laundry.  I researched this heavily and landed on the idea of a family closet.  Basically, you do away with dressers in bedrooms and you centralize everyone's clothes, linens, etc.  I LOVE this concept.  Like you, I was skeptical at first.  But it really works and I highly recommend it to anyone who has 5 or more children.  I purchased 6 black wardrobes that you see below from IKEA for about $30 each.  MUCH cheaper than buying several new dressers.  And much more functional.

The family closet is also where I stock items we use often, such as toilet paper, baby wipes, paper towels, etc.  The tubs contain all the wonderful hand me down clothes people give us, but the clothes are not currently in season or no one fits in them just yet.  For example, one tub will contain all boys' clothes in size 4T.

My second major logistical concern was meal planning/cooking/budgeting.  At first we had to eat in 2-3 different locations.  Five at the table we had, three at the bar, two on the couch.  I hated not being able to eat together as a family.  Voila!  In a crazy turn of events we had 10 solid wood chairs given to us by Olive Garden (they just happened to be getting rid of their old ones and replacing them with new).  A friend from church gave us their large table, just big enough for the 10 of us.  

This is our first meal together:)

I learned to buy and cook in bulk.  On average we spend $3-4/day per person on food.  No, we don't eat out much:)  Makes me really have to think hard about that Caramel Macchiato (the voices in my head say something like "Jody, do you really want to spend your entire food budget for today on coffee?"  Sometimes I do:)

This year we learned teamwork.

We painted.

 

We wore each other's clothes.  Accidentally.

We ALL learned how to ride bikes!

We grew.  Some faster than others.

We got squished.

We got our learner's permit :o

And we got another one!

We let our guard down.

We learned how to read.

And how to cook.

And through it all....

we became a FAMILY.