Dancing

This is another piece I wrote for creative writing. It's actually a revision of a blog post I wrote a couple years ago: extended and molded a bit, but still recognizable. However, regardless of whether you were reading my blog way back then or not, I hope you enjoy this. :)

Dancing

Dip and sway and one two three and swirl and brush and watch your toes. The couples swirled about the room tentatively, watching each other closely as they attempted not to run in to the other people in the room. It was an evening ballroom dance class at the local community college, and no one with the exception of the instructor really had any idea what they were doing, my friends and I least of all. Linda and I had decided it would be great fun to take a dance class, and, of course, we couldn’t take it by ourselves. We had to find boys to go with us! So together we wheedled my brother and one other boy from our Bible study into taking with us. “Come on,” we coaxed, “It will be fun!” And with surprising ease we won them over. Showing up for the first class, we realized that the four of us (of whom I, barely twenty, was the oldest) were the only members of the class under the age of forty-five, but we (at least Linda and I) were determined to have fun anyhow. So we learned the waltz, the salsa, the foxtrot, and the tango. Only one class each, a mere taste of what each had to offer. We danced our way through the cha-cha and the mamba and, my personal favourite, the swing. Ultimately, we came away knowing a little bit about everything but not enough about anything, and with disuse even that little bit of initial knowledge soon disappeared. However, dancing did help bring home to me some important truths. For, as I learned the rules of dance, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between the core principles of dance and some of the important principles of my walk as a Christian.

First, dancing is awfully difficult when you don’t know the steps. Starting out, I felt awkward and embarrassed. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I stepped on my poor brother’s toes as often as not. However, I purposed to learn the steps by listening to the instructor, paying attention to what he said, and practicing at home as often as I got the chance. Over time, this led to improvement, and by the end of the class I was able to pick up even new dances more quickly based on the knowledge I had acquired. Similarly, in my Christian life I have had to learn the steps of walking with Jesus by studying the His Word (the Bible) as well as listening to other learners who are farther along the way than I. In this way I learn the basics of the dance He is calling me to and begin to understand the basic principles of the rhythms and steps through which He might lead me. As in dancing, this starts with the basic principles which, for dance, are where to put your feet, how to place your arms, how to listen to the music, and for Christianity include such basic concepts as our need for redemption and the grace and forgiveness of Christ. Over time, though, as these basics have been mastered more can be added to them and more difficult steps can be learned, more difficult theological concepts wrestled with. As my mom always says, God won’t show you the next thing until you’ve been obedient in this one.

This leads me directly to my second principle which is that in learning to dance I had to learn to follow my brother. This was difficult since I was pretty sure I knew what we were supposed to be doing better than he did, and I’m not too used to letting my little brother call the shots. However, the styles we were learning dictated it. You see, with the exception of a few set dances, most ballroom dance styles require the guy to call the steps. As I quickly learned, there is a very good reason for this. Namely that in most ballroom dances the girl (that would be me) is facing backwards. What this means practically is that if I tried to lead the result was almost certainly either crashing into another couple on the floor, a wall, or some other such obstacle or great frustration on the part of her partner as he tries to maneuver her around these obstacles when she won’t follow. Therefore, even when I knew all of the steps available to me, I had to learn to accept that I did not know the direction or order of the steps until Mitchell communicated them to me. Christianity, too, instructs that I must learn to follow. Again and again in Scripture Jesus calls me to “follow Him,” to “die to myself,” and to completely surrender my will to His. This is still something I struggle though, especially in those times when I haven’t heard anything and feel like a decision needs to be made right now, but I have learned (the hard way, unfortunately) that not waiting is frequently a far worse and more painful decision than deciding to go ahead and take the next step on my own.

This leads to the third principle. In dancing in order to follow my brother I had to learn to listen to his lead. This was at times a very frustrating phenomena when he wasn’t very good at communicating changes in direction in any manner other than yanking me suddenly to one side or the other or at indicating a shift in step besides simply stepping on my toes when he (seemingly randomly) switched steps. Over time, however, we learned to work together, and I could tell by a slight pressure of his hand in the small of my back that we were now going to shift to the right or by an incline of his head that we would be shifting to a turn step rather than a box. Similarly, I have learned in my walk with Christ the importance of learning to listen for His voice when I’m trying to make a decision. However, in order to do this I have to learn to hear His voice. As Jesus says in the book of Mark, his followers are recognizable by the fact that they hear and obey his voice. This comes, once again, through prayer and Bible study, through studying what He’s like and how He speaks and so familiarizing myself with Him that as soon as He begins to prompt my heart I recognize it as Him and not something else.

The fourth principle of ballroom dancing I learned was that I had to trust my partner. Our instructor emphasized repeatedly that in order to follow properly I had to lean back in to the support of Mitchell’s hand to such an extent that if he were not to hold me up I would fall. Otherwise, our instructor declared, he would be unable to truly lead. For me, this was by far the hardest lesson to learn. I was petrified to put myself in a position of uncertain footing where it felt like I might fall at any moment, and I would hold my body entirely stiff or else simply refuse to lean. My brother kept reassuring me that I could trust him, he wouldn’t let me fall. But I…. Well… Let’s just say I wasn’t so sure. Finally, though, I began to get the hang of it, resting my weight back into my brother’s hand. And, lo and behold, when I did so listening to and following his lead became exponentially easier. Rather than having to try so hard in order to feel when he was leading me one direction or the other it became second nature as my balance followed and depended on his own. In the same way, I know that I can never truly follow Christ until I give Him my everything, leaning on Him so strongly that I would entirely lose my balance without Him there to steady me. Just as this was the most terrifying part of dancing, it is the most terrifying aspect of my life as a follower of Christ. In general, I prefer to have a safety net and to keep certain things in my life that I tell him, “No, Lord, I’ll do anything you say except that.” Or “You can have all of me except for that little piece.” But that’s not true following, and I know it. Because, just like in dance, true following, full following means giving up my own sense of balance and trusting that the One I’m dancing with won’t let me fall. As my dance instructor reminded me so many times, “Fear of falling adds nothing to the dance. It only stilts it and keeps it from being everything it can be.”

As I write these pages I am transported once again to that little room in the back of the gym and the dance classes we had there. I feel once again the frustration of trying to understand, the slowness of our progress, and the dissatisfaction when, no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t quite seem to get it. However, I also remember the feeling of sheer joy and pleasure when we finally got it right, becoming one unit as we moved across the floor and dancing in unison with the music with my balance resting totally on his hand and my skirt twirling around my legs as he spun me out and back in. It is similar feelings which I enjoy in my relationship with Christ. Yes, just like in dance, my learning curve is sometimes slow, and I struggle to learn the steps. I get frustrated with myself for my failures and am resistant and fall. I miss steps and stumble and generally make a mess of things at times to the extent that I just want to quit. And, sometimes, no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to get it right. There are days when life is so dark that I can’t see His face to reassure me and my heart is so numb that I can’t feel His hand guiding me, when the tears run down my cheeks because it just hurts so badly to move, to breathe. But at those times I remember the moments of Beauty, those moments of inexpressible Joy which take my breath away with sheer wonder at the beauty of my Savior, the love He has for me, and the delight He takes in me. And I keep dancing.

Kids, Dragons, and World Domination

The following is a paper I recently wrote for a Creative Nonfiction class. As of right now, I'm having difficulty finding additional time in my crazy life for blogging. So, I thought I would simply start posting some of the things I have written past and present for school, starting with my creative writing class although I may eventually move on to other things I have especially enjoyed writing. So, with that in mind, enjoy this piece of narrative/memoir writing about the craziness of my many younger siblings. :)

Kids, Dragons, and World Domination

“Someday, I’m going to rule the world.”

“What?”

“When I grow up I am going to rule the world. I will be the king of America! And I will blow up China...”

“Ummm... Okay. Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know... Just because. And then I want to retire and work at 7-Eleven. . . And have all the icees I want!”

My brother was about six years old and already had big plans for his life: rule the world, blow up China, and work at 7-eleven. Yep, he was definitely going big places! And while this conversation (which occurred, entirely randomly, one day while we were simply sitting around the kitchen table) could be taken as an isolated incident, it’s not. My younger siblings, as a group, seem to possess a strange and slightly disturbing obsession with the topics of power and destruction...

* * *

“Ow! Naithen! Stop it! Ah!” *sobs*

Hurrying in from the other room I surveyed the scene in front of me: Natylee, two years old at the time, sat sobbing with a large red mark on her arm while Naithen (four) sat beside her apparently playing innocently with the pile of duplos before him. Scooping her up I turned to face him.

“Naithen, what happened to Natylee?”

“I pinched her.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer.”

*silence*

*exasperated* “Naithen, you need to apologize to your sister right now!”

“ . . . No.”

As my frustration with the situation rose I realized that I needed to get him to his bed quickly before I did something I would regret. “Go to your bed right now.”

There was no noticeable response.

“Naithen! Bed. NOW.”

Reluctantly he stood to his feet and shuffled slowly back to his bedroom. Turning my attention back to the sniffling child in my arms (the sobs had subsided as she watched my dealings with her brother) I got her a cup of milk and put a movie on for her while I regained my cool before dealing with her miscreant brother. Finally, I headed back to his room where I found him sitting quietly on his bed, apparently lost in thought.

“Naithen, the way you were treating Natylee was unkind and unacceptable. You have to be nice to her. She’s just a baby, and she needs you to protect her. Do you understand that?”

*silence*

“Naithen, I’m going to have to spank you for hurting your sister.”

He finally turned his big, blue eyes to me and responded "But . . . I am sad because we are all going to die." (He wouldn't be changing the subject now, would he?)

His ploy worked, and, although still frustrated with him, I melted. "Oh, Naithen, you don't need to worry about dying because if you love Jesus you will just go to be with Him when you die."

He sniffled, "Yes, but my body will still be dead."

"Well, that's true, but eventually Jesus will raise it up and give you a new and better body!"

Suddenly, his entire demeanor changed as he responded enthusiastically, “Yes! And then I can be a dragon!!!!”

At this point I had to leave the room to restrain my laughter before returning to dealing with the issue at hand (the mistreatment of his little sister).

* * *

Dragons seem to be a fairly common theme in the conversation of my little brothers and sisters. My youngest sister, in fact, is going through a bit of a dragon obsession right now. You see, my brothers have a large collection of toy knights. This Christmas, that collection grew to include several dragons and a bevy of princesses (the latter were actually given to my sister because they had been begging for some time to be more included in their brothers’ games and wanted girls to play with, of course). My youngest sister is two years old now, and very independent. She, in fact, would far rather play with the knights all by herself than have her brothers or sisters interfere with her games, and her imagination can keep her games going for hours. One day, then, she was observed playing the following game with her knights:

A troop of about 15 knights, seated proudly on their horses, parade in a stately row across the play room and away from the castle. Suddenly, though they begin screaming as the dragons begin swooping down on them, snatching them from their horses and throwing them to the group, where, of course, the screaming stops. The horses, witnessing the carnage created by the dragon horde, but not themselves yet victims of the dragons’ wrath, begin screaming too “Aaahhh!!! Help!!! Princesses! Save us!! Ahh! Help us! Princesses!”

The response to this outcry is swift as a group of princesses suddenly emerges from the castle and flies over to the battle field. The princesses, instantly catching sight of the dragons and assessing the situation at hand take immediate action, “Shoo, Dragons! Shoo! Go home!”

The dragons, who apparently live in dread fear of princesses, directly leave their prizes and fly off to some distant part of the play room, never to be heard of again in this game.

The princesses, apparently quite satisfied with their work, mount the knights horses and ride cheerily back to the castle singing “Jingle Bells” as they go and leaving the hapless (and apparently dead) knights lying strewn about on the ground.

My friend Tamara, having watched this entire procedure, asked my sister, “Leisy girl, why did the dragons kill all the knights?”

With an exasperated sigh, Eilyse responded, “Well, the dragons were hungry. They had to eat!” As if Tamara’s questions were clearly ridiculous and one of the silliest inquiries she had every received.

* * *

Children, in fact, frequently find adults and their questions silly. We are in their eyes extremely gullible creatures, and they live to exploit that gullibility (see the first dragon story above). Surely, they think, if I can just figure our how to say this in just the right way she’ll buy it. Sometimes, though, their attempts at manipulating the silly adults can be quite entertaining to those very same adults. I had one of these encounters with my little sister this past summer. . .

“Kyndra, let me stir. Pleeease, Kyndra!” I was sitting at the stove stirring pudding, waiting for it to thicken so that I could work on getting some of the other things done on my rather lengthy to-do list that day. Standing at my feet was my three year old sister, pestering me to let her help, something I was a bit loathe to do since pudding has a tendency to get quite lumpy quite easily and I didn’t quite trust her little arms to have the strength to efficiently stir a half-gallon of it.

“No, Natylee, not right now. Let me do it.”

Apparently finally accepting my answer, she turned and walked from the room. Not two minutes later, however, she returned, dragging a large barstool behind her with the clear intention of using it to stand on to stir the pudding.

“Natylee, take that barstool back to the other room. You cannot be up here right now.”
“What barstool?”
“The one you’re standing in front of.” (Important to note is the fact that the barstool was, in fact, taller than her, and standing in front of it did little to nothing toward obscuring it from view)
Moving out from in front of the barstool, she looked at it, then back at me and said, quite simply, “What barstool? I don’t see a barstool. You don’t see a barstool…. There is no barstool…”
Shocked by her ingenuity and attempted Jedi mind tricks, I nevertheless quickly regained my equilibrium. “Yes, Natylee,, there is a barstool. I do see it, and you need to take it back to the other room.”
*sigh* “Fine.” And with that she finally gave up (for a few minutes, at least) her attempts at the pudding.

* * *

This same sister has a young man whom she has been planning to marry for about two years now, since she was two and he was three. His future life plans are to be a world dictator, and, for the most part, she’s alright with this. Although, her plans to differ just a bit. As she explained to some of my friend when they were over one day:
“And then, I will grow up, and I will marry Nate.”
“And then you’re going to conquer the world, right Natylee?”
"Uh. NO! Then, we are going to make babies… Then conquer the world.”
"Oohhh…. Right.”

* * *

What does one even do with a cast of children whose minds are so cunning and vicious? Who wish to be dragons, willingly sacrifice entire armies of knights to feed dragons, have already begun to experiment with Jedi mind tricks and other brain-washing techniques, and have plans for future world domination. But maybe it’s not so serious. Yes, the stories start to add up, but they’re just kids, right? I mean, it’s just the silly things they say, and they’ll grow out of it as they get older?
Maybe. Or maybe not, as I remember the time Naithen prayed that the wolves would come and eat his whole family because he was mad at them… Or the time Layne and Lance constructed elaborate “girl traps” along the path of the zipline, reinforcing them with rows of sticks they’d sharpened to points . . . And as I contemplate these things I hear echoing through the house my littlest sister’s cry “Where’s my minion!?! I need my minion!!!”

Then again, perhaps, we should be concerned after all…

Pie Conundrums...

Have you ever tried to bake a pie which accommodated for the tastes, dietary needs, preferences, etc. of fourteen people? It's not easy, not easy at all. As I contemplated my pie options for this weekend these are just some of the things I attempted to take into consideration: Coffee makes one sister nauseous, another dislikes coconut, a third can't have peanut products, and a brother recently was placed on a diet which forbids nuts, fruit, or whole grains (such as... Oatmeal!). Another brother has a strange abhorrence to raisins, and my father is currently off of sugar (an aspect I'm not trying to work around, per se, but I am trying to avoid making any of his favourite pies in an attempt to not be too terribly cruel). Additionally, my parents have recently placed stricter limits on our budget, meaning that ideally I needed to make this pie from ingredients already in the house rather than purchasing any additional supplies. As I looked through my cookbook trying to take all of these things into account, I struggled. What to do? How to create something lovely and tasty (but, for Daddy's sake, not too lovely and tasty) out of the supplies already in the pantry which my brother could still eat on his new (rather restrictive) diet... I had purchased a half-gallon of buttermilk a week or so ago for another pie I baked (A Blueberry-Maple Pie with Cornmeal Crust. There was buttermilk in the crust.), so I thought I would simply use what was left of that and make a simple buttermilk pie.

However, apparently various younger siblings of mine have been using my buttermilk without first reading the label for such things as coffee creamer or a condiment on cereal and oatmeal. This, as might be supposed, has resulted in both some rather unhappy siblings (buttermilk and milk don't exactly have the same flavour. One sister informed me that the nasty stuff I had in the fridge had curdled her tea!) and a shortage of buttermilk needed to make a pie. After flipping through my recipes a couple more times and wracking my brain for ideas, however, I decided that it would be worth it to measure the remainder of the buttermilk. Maybe, just maybe, there would be enough. So, measure I did, and, lo and behold there was exactly one cup of buttermilk, just enough to make one of the buttermilk pie recipes in my book. Therefore, I determined to create that pie.

The result was not the best of the pies I've made so far, but it was quite tasty and decently pretty. Crafted with lemon juice and a touch of nutmeg it had a spongy, souffle-type top layer slightly golden brown in color with a little extra nutmeg sprinkled on top for garnish, and the flavour resembled a slightly spicy lemon custard. While it doesn't appear to have won any awards for "Favourite Pie," it was gobbled up pretty quickly by my various testers (which I figure is always a good sign!) and got a thumbs up from tonight's special guest, an old friend who I haven't seen in several months and whose conversation on life, school, student ministry, and the work God has been doing in Norman all added even greater enjoyment to the evening's pie consumption.

In other words, I declare my solution to the pie conundrum not a smashing success, but certainly satisfactory. :)

A Post of Thanksgiving

I just realized that yesterday's post was a bit depressing and thought I should strive to give a bit more about the positive side of life as well. :)

Although this semester has been rough in many ways, I am just as confident now as I was when it began that I am where God wants me. School has been a blessing in many ways this semester. I've enjoyed all of my classes even though they've been challenging at times, and I've made lots of new friends who I look forward to getting to know better next semester! :) God has also been using the struggles He's sent me this semester to help me grow, and while growing is at times painful it is a good thing!

On this day before Thanksgiving, I am, indeed, thankful for so many things in my life. I'm thankful for friends and family who love me, pray for me, and encourage me. I'm thankful for our soldiers who are willing to sacrifice their holidays with family to defend our country. I'm thankful for the opportunity to go to school, get an education, and study the things I love. I'm thankful for professors who are willing to work with me when I need to spend time at home with my family. And, most of all, I'm thankful for a sovereign God who loves me and is working all things together for my good and His glory and for the wonderful love He has displayed through His son, Jesus Christ. I'm thankful that He is patient and kind with our frailties and loves us no matter what. He is, indeed, an Awesome God!

May you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving filled with much love and many blessings!

"In everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:18

To My Daddy

I am, in so many ways, my father's child. From my love of mathematics to my passion for reading, my eyesight to the curve of my little toes, I resemble him in so many ways in both my personality and my physical appearance. Some of my favorite childhood memories are of laying in my bed at night while my father told me bedtime stories as only he could (My friends will testify that he told bedtime stories like no-one else. They were all jealous!) or reading to my from favorite series such as The Chronicles of Narnia, Old Yeller, or Little House on the Prairie. He did, truly, instill in me a passion for Literature for which I will be eternally grateful.

As I sit here pondering things to tell you about my daddy, I truly can't come up with what the most important things to let you know are, his sense of humor? the way in which he can bring the Proverbs to life like no one else? The devotion he displays towards his family? The fact that I know he would do anything to protect me while still desiring me to learn and grow on my own as a young adult? The way in which he protects our country as a colonel in the air force, preparing to deploy to Iraq for six months? The love he displays for my mother in so many ways? The way he mentors the young men under him at work? The desire he has to reach out to young men, disciple them, and help them to grow? None of these things really seem to capture him, although they are all important aspects of his character. So, I suppose I will just have to say that my father is a man whom I truly admire and love, and I am so very happy and blessed that the Lord chose to place me in his family.

I love you, Daddy, and am so grateful to be your daughter! Happy Father's Day!:)

Spiritual Lessons Gleaned from a Severe Case of Poison Ivy :)

Well, I'm finally finished with school for the semester. Yay! In fact, I'm finished at this school for forever. I have graduated and am preparing to transfer to a new university in the fall, exciting stuff! Beyond that, I haven't really decided what to blog over... I've considered the spiritual object lessons I've gleaned from my little brother's poison ivy (there are at least two. Don't you love it when God teaches you things even where you don't expect it?), I've considered a post on my summer plans (which aren't terribly exciting at this point), and I've considered a post on the wedding I attended last night (It was beautiful!). I think, however, that I'm going to go with the Spiritual lessons I've gleaned from my brother's poison ivy.

My six year old brother has poison ivy very badly. Currently, it is on the underside if both arms, on his abdomen, on his neck, on his cheeks, and all around both eyes (one eye is practically swollen shut by the poison ivy!). It is really quite sad to look at, however, I do have limited sympathy for him, for two reasons. First, he was relatively sure it was poison ivy when he picked it up. You see, he is one of those children who really doesn't comprehend the fact that he can be injured, despite the fact that he is on a relatively routine basis. He was out in the woods on our back property playing with some of my older siblings when he came running to my sister (12) with a three-leafed plant in his hand. "Look, Kay! Is this poison ivy? I think it's poison ivy."
"Yes, Layne, I think it probably is poison ivy, but I'm not really sure."
"Ooo... Look! I have poison ivy in my hand! I can rub it on my arm and it doesn't hurt me!"
"Layne, you should probably put that down."
"Hmm.. Okay!" and off he runs. Now, as I said, I've drawn a couple of Spiritual lessons from his experience. The first is that frequently we place ourselves in tempting situations because "I can handle it. It won't hurt me." However, frequently those situations do end up hurting us, sometimes in ways we don't fully comprehend until sometime later. Thus, Scripture tells us to FLEE temptation, not to flirt with it.

So, you might be wondering what the second lesson I've gotten from my brother's poison ivy is. Well, he did (obviously) eventually develop the poison ivy rash. However, initially it was only a patch on his arm (where he'd rubbed the plant, go figure!). However, despite the warnings of multiple others - myself, my mother, my father and other older experienced people (O, yes I'm experienced! you should have seen my poison ivy last year! I know what I'm talking about here!) - he itched. Now, something many of you may not know about poison ivy is that once the rash appears the oils of the poison ivy have actually bonded to the molecular structure of your skin. This means that, although you cannot spread the rash to other people, you can quickly spread it ALL OVER yourself if you itch, and he itched. Not only did he itch, he itched then rubbed his eyes which means that now he has poison ivy all over both eye-lids (it's quite a sad sight to behold). Now, what spiritual lesson did I learn from this? Sin spreads. Once you have a sin in your life, that sin takes hold, and it is extremely hard to get rid of it on your own. You might think you know how to handle it, you might think that itching it feels good, it helps to relieve the pain, but really you need help. You need to seek out and listen to the advice of your spiritual elders and mentors, you need to saturate yourself with Scripture, and you need to seek the help and guidance of the Holy Spirit. Because, once you've fallen in to a particular sin, you're usually far more drawn to do it again. It is, so to speak, bonded to your DNA. Satan has a foothold and, given the opportunity, he'll be more than happy to take advantage of it.

Thus, these are the deep Spiritual lessons I've gleaned from my brother's poison ivy. That, and some slightly less Spiritual lessons as well. Namely, if you see a plant you believe to be poison ivy, don't pick it and rub it up and down your arm. It's really not a good idea at all. lol.

Of My Mother

She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.
Proverbs 31:26-31

Yesterday was Mother's Day, a day we set aside for showing our mothers just how important they are in our lives and how much they mean to us. Therefore, I wish to post today about my wonderful mother, a woman who has given her entire life to serving her Lord, her husband, and her children. Throughout my life, she has been my caretaker, confidante, mentor, and friend. As the verses above states, she opens her mouth in wisdom, and the teaching of kindness os on her tongue.

Thank you so much, Mommy, for all that you've taught me over the years. I love you so much!

The Silly Things They Say

Hey all!
I know I have been quite tardy about updating my blog this week. I will try to do better, but no promises since next week I have three tests, two papers, and a speech due for my four classes. :)
I do, however, have several idea roiling around in my mind which will hopefully find their way into blog posts sometime soon. For now, I'll leave you with a "theological" discussion which I had with my four year old brother, Naithen, the day before yesterday. To set the scene, allow me to explain that he was on his bed for being unkind to his younger sister, and I were trying to explain to him why how he had treated her was wrong.

Naithen: "But I am sad because we are all going to die." (He wouldn't be changing the subject now, would he?)

Me: "But, Naithen, you don't need to worry about dying because if you love Jesus you will just go to be with Him when you die." (Alright, this may not be the most theologically deep or accurate conversation necessarily, but keep in mind that it was being held with a four year old)

Naithen: "Yes, but my body will still be dead."

Me: "Well, that's true, but eventually Jesus will raise it up and give you a new and better body."

Naithen (getting rather excited at this idea): "Yes! And maybe He will even make me a dragon or a bucking bronco!"

At this point I had to leave the room top restrain my laughter before returning to dealing with the issue at hand (the mistreatment of his little sister).

Do You Like Having So Many Brothers and Sisters?

I love babies. I love the way their smell, snuggles, and coos. I love pretty much everything about them. However, I have never been one of those girls who absolutely had to get her hands on somebody else’s baby. Maybe that’s because I’ve always had one of my own to cuddle. Every two years since my birth, my mother has presented me with a new baby brother or sister to adore (though some have been easier to adore than others). When people discover how many siblings I have, the conversation tends to go something like this:
“Wow! Are you Catholic?”
“No.”
“Mormon?”
“No.”
“Wow… Your mom must be a pretty amazing woman.”
“I think so.”
“Do you like having so many brothers and sisters?”
“Yes.”
“What’s is like?”
“Umm…. Busy but fun.”
Now, I’m never exactly sure how they expect me to answer the “Do you like having so many brothers and sisters question. “No! I can’t stand it.”? To me, it’s just life. I love each and everyone one of my siblings and can’t imagine what life would be like without them. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have a baby to come home and snuggle after a hard day of school, or a nosy little two year old princess to give me instructions on how to color pictures or to insist that I dance with her through the kitchen or admire her new pink dress. My life would certainly be very different without my quirky four year old brother whose antics so frequently bring a smile to my face and provide so many laughs with my friends and family. Not that it’s always easy. When you have four little boys ranging in age from ten to four who have been cooped up in the house for a couple of days and who, in consequence, are literally bouncing off the walls ( Which, by the way, can hurt if you do it wrong.) Yes, it’s exhausting at times, but that doesn’t keep me from lying in bed every night and thanking the Lord for the wonderful family he’s blessed me with. :)