Keep Calm and Love On

I'm not sure why I blog.

At first I thought it was to write down the day to day happenings of our crazy clan so that I could remember who we were when I'm old and left all alone because all these kids that I've poured my life into have gone on and found new lives and new families and have forgotten all the countless hours I poured into them cooking and cleaning and praying and playing and only come home for Christmas every other year  rocking the grandbabies.

And then I thought it was for me.  To help etch in my brain the lessons and blessings God was working in my life.  A virtual altar to the Lord, if you will.

I've been thinking a lot about legacy lately.  I have these grandparents, for instance, that are pillars to this faith of mine.  And I want to tell and retell their stories down the generations.  Because people need to know them.  Even if they can't meet them in person.

And I want to tell our story.  This family's stories.

Even the crazy ones.

Like Baby asking everyone if they want him to moon them.  And then he does.  Even when they say no.

I didn't have a picture of him mooning.  You're welcome.  But I love a good fit-throwing picture. 

Or like that time we were all in the van and to reprimand Ninja someone for spraying the Febreeze in his brother's face, The Honey picks up his own bottle of Febreeze and starts shooting it at the culprit like it's an Uzi.  And all the time I'm on the phone to some poor soul who is having to listen to the blood curdling screams and me snapping my fingers in everyone face and mouthing 'You better cut that our right now or pray to the Baby Lord Jesus to rescue you.'

And maybe even the more serious ones.

 Like trying to answer the age old question to my 10 year old about how can God be all sovereign and all good even though he chooses to let our sweet Cocoa die. And sometimes a 'Trust and Obey' and holding him close to the chest while he falls apart is all I have to offer.

Or helping Little Middle find his place in this world.  Not the oldest.  Not the youngest.  Not the only girl.  Lost in the Little Middle.  Watching him struggle to feel important and set apart.  And all I have to offer is a 'You can do it' and 'You're loved in the most special way' and silent pleads of  'Love on him, Jesus.'

The more I write and read back through what I've written the more I realize how I rarely have answers to offer.  Life is sticky and complicated with a twist of belly laughs thrown in.  And I am just a simple minded girl.   Not wise according to this world's standards....or successful....or awesome.

No, I am certain my legacy won't be laced with profound answers to life's most philosophical problems, or a reputation that is above reproach, or speech that was always graceful. Or awesomeness.  All I can hope for, all I really aim for, is when people look back over the course of my life they will see that apparently Jesus is a friend of sinners, even this one.  And that he lavished me, ravaged me with His love to the point that all the days of my life I was able to keep calm and love on.

That's it. To love on.  When life is hard and the ones I love reject me....love on.  When the bank account is empty and there seems to be no help in sight....love on.  To those who have hurt me or are undeserving...love on. 

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.