Broken, not crushed

People often misunderstand me.

Yes, I have this mammoth family--and I think it's great, and I don't see that having so many children means that I will die sooner, or that I look uglier or older or that I am missing more teeth, or that I will get breast cancer from nursing too much, or that my husband will leave me because he can't stand the pressure, or that my kids are all neglected and warped, or that we are plundering the earth's resources, or that we are just doing this for attention, or that we are trying to be "holier than thou", and on and on and on.

And, yes, I believe that children in large families learn lots of lessons that kids in smaller families don't necessarily always learn--I could make a list here, but I am sure many of my readers already know most of the contents of that list (but lots of bad happens in large families--much depends on the leadership, circumstances, etc.).

However, there is a danger here; you may have gotten the impression that I think that having a large family has been the driving force in my life. This is so far from the truth.

The message, if any, that should be drawn from the testimony of who I am is this: She trusted God and surrendered, and it was good.

Now, some trust God and don't have even a spouse--then it is good. Some trust in God and never walk or see or hear--He makes it all good.

Some trust in God, some ladies that read my blog, and things happen so that they will never have one child, or only a few--and that also is good.

The number of children is not the issue--it is the brokenness.

To be broken--to accept the hammer and chisel--this is the life of the true believer. And for me He has seen fit to bless me with wonderful children, and I enjoy them and relish in their beauty and companionship--but I also feel the pain.

I feel the pain each time I become pregnant and endure the months of illness. I feel the pain when I become to big to sleep or eat. I feel the pain of childbirth and recovery. I feel the afterpains, of early nursing, of sleepless nights.

And as the children grow and move away, I feel the pain of separation. And it is all part of the brokenness--the brokenness that allows me to become a fit vessel. This is the brokenness that produces the joy, the pain that gives the reward.

I have recently rejoiced with the Duggar family over the birth of their 18th child. Many others are not rejoicing--they are pointing fingers and cursing. Others are jealously desiring what Michelle has--they want to have the joy and the peace that emanates from her. But do they realize the price?

The apostle Paul said, "Godliness with contentment is great gain".

One doesn't have to have a mammoth family to be content. One doesn't have to be married to experience joy. One doesn't have to even be able to walk to experience the blessedness of having Jesus as one's closest friend.

The key is to trust--to allow our minds to be changed so that we can see God for just how big He is--that He is not even limited by our own foibles or the foibles of others, or by the changing of the tide or the seasons.

A wise man, my husband to be exact, asked me a very important question; if we are wanting something we don't have, what are we doing with what we already have in our hands?

If we want a larger house, what are we doing with the house God has already provided?

If we want more food, what are we doing with the food we already have?

If we want a better husband, what are we doing with the one God has already given?

If we want more children, what are we doing with the ones we already have?

If our time for childbearing is over, what are we doing with the days?

It is the answers to these questions that tell us why we do or do not experience joy and contentment.

It is amazing to me, but often the very things I waste time pining over somehow suddenly appear in abundant fulfillment only after I have ceased to suffer for them, when I have released my desires to God and learned to go back to the contentment of who He is--the Joy of Man's Desiring.