The wrestling

Grace told me I should blog. I told her that I wasn't quite sure what to say that wouldn't be 1) depressing 2) angry 3) heresy.

But here's what's been rolling around in my head and I've been wrestling with in my heart. I hope this all makes sense by the time I'm finished.

-------

I've known it for nearly 9 years now. From the moment that I reached down pulled a 6 pound 13 ounce baby girl onto my chest, I knew it.

Motherhood is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

It's the greatest ministry I've ever been given. One I don't know everything about. One that I'm learning as I go. One that I'm passionate about. Which, in truth, that's every kind of ministry. No one begins ministering to others with all the answers. All they know is that the burning within them drives them to gain more knowledge, love like never before and hope like hell they don't get in the way of God's master plan.

I know all of this cognitively in my head. I know that pouring my everything in to these seven little lives, loving their father well, managing my home and filling myself up with the abundant grace of God is ministry. I KNOW that.

But when I think about what our plans were this time last year. When I remember that there are unreached people in a country on the other side of the world, people we were suppose to be living with as neighbors, my heart breaks.

And some days, this motherhood thing doesn't seem like enough.

Yes, I know we have seven kids. I know my hands are full. I know that loving on seven children ages 8 years and younger is a full time job. I know that.

But somewhere in my heart something seems missing. And that's where my knowledge ends and the wrestling begins. I wrestle between two constant thoughts:

1) I hate feeling like this motherhood gig isn't "ministry enough." That is a lie that the enemy is selling and mothers are buying every.single.day.

I want to refuse to buy it anymore. I believe that there are mothers working their butts off going to work, cleaning up spilled sippy cups of milk, faxing documents while planning dinner in their heads, wiping butts, settling toy disputes, changing 27 diapers a day, homeschooling their kids and coming home to change out the laundry on their lunch breaks. And all the while, these precious mothers are wondering to themselves if they are really making a difference in anyone's life.

Friend, believe me when I say that by loving your children, your husband and your home well you are fulfilling the greatest ministry role on this planet.

I believe that myself. Most days.

Which leads me to my second thought that seems to sit exactly juxtaposed to the first.

2) If this is really it, if this motherhood thing is REALLY my only ministry, then why do hot tears spring instantly to my eyes when I think about unreached people? Why do I feel like I failed? Why does my heart long for more? Why do I nearly ache with the desire to live with my family on hot, dusty soil and watch my children build cross-cultural friendships?

And here is the kicker - even when we were speaking to families and groups trying to raise up a support team, I boldly proclaimed that my role would be nearly identical to what it is here:

Manager of our home, teacher of our children. Wife. Mom. Homeschooler.

So why, if nothing really was to look any different, am I feeling like everything has changed? Because of geography?

That's ridiculous.

This home, these children, my husband - they are my greatest ministry. My hardest job. My biggest reward. Yet somehow, in the midst of my days I feel anger welling up within me.

"This is IT God? We are stuck here? This is my life? Rural America, the freakshow family with all the kids who homeschool? This is IT?"

I'm just not even sure where to go from here. My desire to do any type of ministry is gone.

I've always said that while our children are by far my first ministry, they should never be the reason we chose not to love on people outside our family. Ministry outside the home should happen together. Teenagers. Elderly. Homeless shelter. Whatever. Let's do this as a family.

Over the last 8 months, we've dabbled our feet in trying out a few things to do as a family and each of them has fallen on my heart with a less than desirable thud.

And I can't shake the thought that maybe, this is IT. This is God's plan for my life. "Just" being a mother. (Oh that sound so horrible out loud, doesn't it?) "Just" managing my home. "Just" loving my husband well.

Somewhere inside me discontent sets in. THIS IS NOT THE LIFE YOU CALLED ME TO, LORD. This is not where I wanted to end up. This is not how I had it all planned out. When I stood before you and offered up to you my life with open hands, this wasn't part of the thing you were allowed to take away. Not Africa. Not what we'd worked for nearly 4 years to set in motion.

And so I wonder. Is this pride? Or is it a hunger the Lord has placed deep within me to yearn for foreign soil? I wrestle with those two things clutched tightly in opposing hands. Pride vs Calling. Or is it neither of those and I'm missing the very thing I'm suppose to be learning?

Just as Jacob did, I'm sure I'll not walk away from all this wrestling without a permanent limp. Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's God's plan all along.

A changed walk.
A new, albeit markedly different, gait.
An encounter with the Most High that not only changes my course in this journey but the time it takes to reach my destination.