Originally Published August 30th, 2010
Ya’ll remember Mr. T right?
I woke up this morning with stuff to say.
Now, this isn’t a real problem for us, but occassionally when we go out I see looks of pity on people’s faces… and the comments. The comments do not get to me. (You know, “Bless your heart” type stuff. Like I’m a one legged beggar on the side of the road or something.) I’m not irritated with them or offended. I mostly just feel sorry for the people
who see dollar amounts instead of children
who treasure their decaying earthly possessions more than the eternal soul of another person
who buy big houses to store them up with lots of crap while their souls are empty
who think that because we have a “large” family we must be poor
or (almost worse) who think that we have many children because we can “afford” it.
I don’t know about ya’ll, but I grew up with only one sibling. A brother. And my parents both worked two jobs for much of the latter part of our upbringing. Eventually they had a third child and for 3 years all three of us lived under the same roof. But for most of my growing up years, there were only two of us. There were times when money was tight and my parents honestly prayed for our next meal. And then the doorbell rang and there was a sack of groceries or a wad of cash shoved in the mailbox.
I can remember my mother sweetly suggesting that we try the thrift store for back to school clothes…before we hit K-mart to spend the big bucks. I can remember doing all of the Christmas shopping for my little brother at used and second hand stores. I can remember my mamma staying up until 4 a.m., working with her hands to craft something to sell at a festival or fair that began in only a few hours. I can remember my dad trading in his own car for my bright shiny pick up truck, and not having his own car for a while because of it.
But when I look back (and I’m pretty sure I can speak for my older brother here too), I never think of “doing without”. I can’t remember the feeling of being poor or worrying over it. Our parents stressed one thing over and over again…the only thing you can take to heaven with you is people. The other stuff doesn’t matter. What’s stands out the strongest when I reminisce is the times of laughing it up with my older brother. We didn’t need toys. We had them, but our best play times were spent with a fan and a cassette tape recorder. In our underwear. (We had clothes, but being underwear super heroes was way funner.) Our house was always pretty and clean. My mamma didn’t need fancy stuff to help her clean or decorate. She made a lot of our home decor with her own two hands.
And yes, I pity the fool who works day and night to pay for the house, the car, the tv, the fancy phone, the fancy food, but would never give a second thought to having another child, or investing in life of one of the countless millions of orphans across the globe.
Pity me? Please don’t. I’m so rich! I get to build up souls for the kingdom of God, and keep these treasures this side of heaven!
When you look at your children today, see their little souls. Every word, every action, every small.little.thing.you.do matters. The dirty diapers in the night. The endless squabbles with siblings. The breakfast you cooked that everyone hated. It’s all for the glory of God and the building of his kingdom. May your words be like drops of rain on their thirsty souls today, Mammas!