i’ve always wanted a big family. when we got married, we were talking five or six kids. (naivety!) now i know i shouldn’t go making decisions about this kind of stuff when i’m knee-deep in the you-know-whatty part of parenting. i can’t count how many times i’ve heard that three is the roughest it will get — and this from TWO moms of seven. (and yes, they are japanese! though, you may feel free to add your two cents at any time, kerri. in fact, i rather wish you would!) but i’ve been thinking about this recently, nonetheless.
through the dive into my thoughts and intentions, i’ve discovered that there is some form of pride attached to my desire for a big family — perhaps a success thing? a “watch-me, see-what-i-can-do” thing? an utterly misconceived notion that i could earn more (of what, i don’t know) if i “did” more as a mom? (more babies = more self-sacrifice.) i’m not entirely certain, but for the first time today, i realized it might be more of a step of faith for me to have a smaller-than-i-expected family than a large one — faith by way of trusting God that my belief is enough, He doesn’t need anything else from me.
i’m still musing over all of this, and completely surprised by the realization that i have apparently placed part of my worth as a parent into how many kids i could raise, like points on a scoreboard. this, while my littlest, yet a baby, plays with the phone and laughs animatedly at me when i turn her way from the computer screen. 9 months is quite magical.
Lord, lead me in truth. You oppose the proud, but give grace to the humble. make me the latter! what tough work it is to believe.