The Making of M.O.M.

It's happened with every single one of our six kids. Still, every time it happens it grosses me out to the point of gagging, pregnant or not.

Ella is at the stage now that no matter what she eats she manages to smear it all over her body such that no washcloth can dare make a dent in her sloppiness. Typically after breakfast and lunch she requires a quick bath to scrub off all the sticky.

Earlier this week, I plopped her in the tub, added some bubbles and went back into the kitchen to quickly wipe off her booster seat and the table where she had fingerpainted with her Cocoa Puffs.

Approximately 1.5 minutes later I walk back into the bathroom and begin scooping full cups of soapy bubbly water over her head so that we could wash and continue with our day. About 3 scoops in, the bubbles part like the Red Sea and there is a turd. Chillin' on the bottom of the tub like Pharaoh's army. Ew. Ew. Ew.

Not only have I submerged my own hands into the poop water but I've also washed my child in bubbly poop water.

Not good.

I take my naked 18 month old out of the tub, stand her on the rug and drain the tub. I clear the debris out of the tub then realize I need some cleanser to clean out any hidden debris. I decide that I'd rather not have my naked, soaking wet, poop-washed baby sprinting through the house, so like a good mother, I close the bathroom door behind me and sprint down the hall to the kitchen to grab some Castile soap.

Soap and brush in hand, I dash back to the bathroom. My hand rests upon the door knob yet I am unable to turn it.

My sweet, darling, naked, slimy, poop-water covered 18 month old has LOCKED THE BATHROOM DOOR. I should have known. Pushing buttons is her new hobby.

"Ella!" I yell, "Ella! Unlock the door!" I jiggle the doorknob.

From the other side of the door I hear, "Eeeewa! Eeeewa! Ubba daaa!" as her pudgy little fingers rattle the doorknob, mocking my every move.

I knock on the door. "Ella," I say more softly, "open the door Sissy."

To my surprise, I hear her say, more softly, "Eeeeewa, ubbbba daaa ssssssss," as she gently knocks back to me the same rhythm I just tapped out to her.

This copycat knocking and jiggling of door handles continues for the next 3 or so minutes until I realize that my darling, naked, poopy-water covered child, who knows how to open doors and has done so many, many, many times against my better wishes, is NOT opening the door any time soon.

And why should she? I mean, what more fun is it than a game of copy cat with an hysterical Mommy?

I grab my car keys, praying our house key somehow fits the lock of the bathroom. It doesn't but it does manage to turn the knob just enough that I hear the click of the lock popping out the other side of the door.

I push the door open and find my slimy, naked, smiling babe standing beside the tub, bottle of bubbles in her hand, looking at me wondering why in the heck it's taken me so long to get back in the bathroom.

Y'all, it's never a dull moment around here. Ever.

It's probably no secret that I pretty much adore my husband. I mean, I agree that he has flaws and he messes up sometimes. But, generally speaking, I could spend all day talking about how wonderful he is and how much he blesses me.

In fact, when we went to Candidate Week the psychologist, about 10 minutes into our 3 hour session, leaned into me and said, rather pointedly, "You over idealize your marriage. Which is odd because the rest of your scores seem to indicate that you're a pretty direct and blunt person."

I looked her in the eye and as nicely as I could say it I responded with, "I don't over idealize my marriage. I simply know how blessed I am."

My husband is selfless, strong, loyal, gentle and hard working, characteristics that many men do not choose to display. He is not afraid to tell me, our children or the important people in his life that he loves them.

Today, my man (along with 5 other men) leaves for 11 days to travel to Guinea-Bissau, West Africa. I went to Guinea-Bissau back in April. I'm so excited that Luke will have the opportunity to visit the places I went, meet the people I met and, most importantly, share the Gospel with unreached people. He gets the amazing privilege of sharing the power of Jesus Christ with people who may have never before heard His name.

A few weeks ago, I emailed several of the men in Luke's life who encourage him, challenge him and walk the road of brotherhood in Christ with him. I asked them if they'd like to write him a note to encourage him while he's half way around the world, disconnected from everything that's normal to him.

As the emails began to flood my inbox I couldn't resist reading each letter as I printed and sealed them. Every single time, hot tears stung the back of my eyes as I read the words of other men, writing to encourage this man the Lord has blessed me with.

They see it too. They see him, know him and love him.

Most of these men have seen Luke at his worst. Short-tempered with our kids, low on compassion for me, unshowered, unshaved and, even one of them, unforgiven.

Yet here they are, sending in words of confirmation, encouragement and conviction to this man they consider a friend. In fact, more than once they referenced him as their brother. Not just in the context of our faith, but in the context of their own families.

They see it too. They know him, flaws and all and they see it too.

I couldn't contain my tears as I stuffed envelopes, labeled them for each day of his journey and packaged them in a neat pile. Tears spilled over onto my cheeks as I thought about the time, the care and the ways these men have poured into my husband.

I stuffed in some additional cards from our oldest 3 kids, cards they've written, colored, stickered and sealed with copious amounts of tape.

Love. Poured onto paper for this man I have the privilege of walking through life with.

Over the last several weeks, I've prayed this scripture over Luke and the 5 other men that left today for Guinea-Bissau, West Africa.

Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”

(1 Peter 1:13-16 ESV)

For the past several months, I've watched Luke prepare, as best as he can, for this trip. He's studied the scriptures, prayed hours upon hours, received shots and prayed over me and the kids. And, in turn, I've seen a level of holiness exude from him that I've never seen before.

Will you join me in praying this for the men on the team and that the Lord will prepare the hearts of the people in the villages to hear about the greatest plan of Salvation the world has ever known?

I too would cherish your prayers as the children and I travel over the next week. We're getting out of town while Luke's gone so we can stay sane and (hopefully) make the time pass quickly.

Thanks friends.