Today I am introducing a guest blogger, my 16-year old daughter Hannah. She wrote this for a school assignment and I thought everyone would enjoy a small sampling of life as a DeVyldere kid.

Sudden Death

As kids, my brothers, sisters and I had a lot of time and very active imaginations. We could basically make any random and seemingly boring object into the subject of a most interesting game. For instance, the clay-like mud that seemed to be the chief element in the field behind our barn was harvested and taken to our makeshift potter’s shop. There it was washed (with water from buckets and saucers set out to catch the rain), purified, and made into many clumsy, yet agreeable pots, vases and various other simple structures.  These were then dried and set on display at the “Market” along with the freshly picked flowers, aromatic “lemon leaves,” sprouted wheat (grass seed, harvested from the wild stocks in our back forty), and a variety of nuts, cracked at the cement slab we named the Nutcracker.  We built tree forts, discovered our own version of the Oregon Trail, and hosted several intense boot camps. There was simply no end to the amount of activities to do and chaos to create. 

            I remember specifically one year when we got our family’s first ever trampoline. When all the excitement of unadorned jumping wore off, we naturally began testing new ideas and games such as  “Fish Out of Water,” “Deer in the Headlights,” and “Black Out.” They were all interesting, but none of them came close to the challenging thriller my older brother fashioned. The entire game was based on the concept of “skying.” Skying occurs when one person, as they are landing on the trampoline, is propelled upwards by another person, who is putting all their power into bouncing the first person up.  This gives the skyee twice as much power as they would have had originally and an awesome high flying experience. Skying is undoubtedly a fascinating subject, one that we tried to explore to the fullest. And this new game, dubbed “Sudden Death,” combined the thrill of defying gravity with the challenge of a good competition. 

            “Sudden Death” would start off with one person as “it”. That person would start the game by jumping in the air and landing on his or her back (commonly known as a back bomb). At this point they would be skyed as high as one of the other players could get them. As soon as their back left the trampoline’s black textile, their goal was to touch one of the other three children on the trampoline before they landed again. It was that trio’s job to evade them and therefore avoid being “it”. 

This was, for the most part, a safe game, at least in our minds. Of course, their were times where a youngster, when tagged, would go flying off the trampoline due to the tagger’s inability to stop himself or his flailing limbs.  As the game progressed we started to become bored with it and looked for new ways to spice it up. The brilliant idea came to those of us who were not “it” at the time. The three of us secretly plotted to all sky the back bomber at the same time which, with any luck, would provide a truly epic sky. 

This was, for the most part, a safe game, at least in our minds. 

The new round started: one, two, three! All the power the three of us could muster was successfully transferred into our temporary foe’s back bomb. We watched our handiwork sky our brother higher than we had ever seen before or could have hoped for! Then it hit us. He wasn’t going to come back down on the trampoline! I probably should have mentioned before that when being skyed, it can be extremely hard to control what you’re doing or where you are going to land. Unfortunately, this thought had not crossed our ingenious minds while planning our great caper.  We cringed as we watched our brother speed head-first for the ground.

            Fortunately, he had enough experience with skying to know how to tuck his head and turn a nose dive into a flip. He landed somewhat feet first, smacking the ground with enormous force. He laid on the ground for a while, then picked himself up. His dazed eyes went from his muddy jeans, to us, to the ground, to the trampoline, to where he had reached his peak, then back to us in a repeating cycle. I wish I would have been able to focus more on what was going on in that moment, for that was one of a very few times I have ever seen that particular brother speechless. But I was still reeling from what had happened. We had all fallen off the trampoline multiple times before, but he had reached new heights. This made him a sort of legend in our minds. 

The expressions of those who were still on the trampoline were no longer the mysterious smirks of a plotting gang. Those peculiar grins had turned to smiles of satisfaction and pride at a brilliantly planned scheme; then to the blank stare of a realized mistake, as it dawned on us that we hadn’t thought about what would happen after he was in the air. Finally our faces changed to grimaces, as the thump he made scared the birds from their trees. We couldn’t have imagined that those events might have transpired. At least we didn’t imagine them. We certainly did not intend for that chilling experience to occur. However, we felt very responsible for that frightening incident. I looked at the astounded faces of my accomplices and saw my thoughts reflected in their minds. We had just discovered the most incredible game ever!      

A GATHERING OF GOOD FRUIT

My husband spent the last seven years “advising “a youth group of high schoolers as they sought God. They called themselves “The Gathering.” He gave a lot to this group, drove our kids to Lebanon every Sunday night and another night a week for meetings. Kids came from all over the valley, from at least six different towns to attend.

The group was unique. The kids dreamed their own dreams, made their own plans, created their own worship teams, taught and shared with each other. They were the leaders. He was the protector so that the group didn’t get waylaid by agendas other than what the Lord had given, so that the true ministry in the Spirit would go forth. He was the designated adult. At first, there was a lot of skepticism that high school kids could actually do what he expected them to do.

They made a lot of mistakes. But they grew.

It was a small New Testament version of church, where instead of “professional” Christians instructing the non-professional, the young and the newly saved were allowed to grow and share, where their gifts and callings were identified and given ample opportunities (encouragement, even nudging) for the body to build itself up in love.

They made a lot of mistakes. But they grew. One of the hallmarks of this group was its commitment to real radical relationships which were 180 degrees from the popular cultural norms.  Instead of pairing up and creating all the subsequent drama most youth groups thrive on, these young people committed to treat each other like brothers and sisters as the Bible teaches. They learned a lot about relationships by hanging out in groups.

They learned to serve, to teach, to encourage, to worship, to prophesy and pray with power. They saw a lot of healing, salvation, lives changed forever.

Others in the valley saw the power of the kids doing their own group. They followed suit, to some degree or another. Several large groups told the Gathering that they wanted youth leaders because they saw the passion of our kids. In some ways this group started a tiny revolution of high schoolers and college students being “the church”.

They went to Mexico, then the Dominican Republic.  Their passion and abilities changed the way ministries managed short-term missions. They began to do Spirit-led treasure hunts, scared to death at first, but gradually with more and more confidence. More and more lives were changed. Strangers were cured of cancer and broken bones and through this people of all ages who did not even know God were brought into HIS glorious Kingdom.

Groups graduated and moved on. A bunch went to Bible and ministry schools and missions, others to universities and careers where they brought what they had learned in the Spirit by experience. The Gathering students have traveled all over the world from our tiny church in Lebanon, Oregon. They have gone to Cambodia and Thailand, England, the Netherlands, India, through Africa and South America, and the list could go on and on. Whether aware of it or not, they carry the confidence of being trusted with the full weight of the gospel, and the power of experiences which many American Christians never gain.

What have the hundreds of kids who connected with this ministry received?  Most of all, they have experienced being with people their age who honestly and wholeheartedly love God and have practical ways to love each other. This is as simple as it is rare. People who wanted to pretend or play church were encountered by the power of God and got honestly real, or they didn’t usually stay around very long. 

A very wise person once told me. “When it comes to teens, you pretty much have two choices. If you treat them like children, they’ll act like little kids. But if you treat them like adults, they will rise to the challenge.” This is so profoundly true, and has been superbly demonstrated by the last seven years of The Gathering. Tony’s express purpose was to identify the gifts and callings in each individual and give ample opportunities for growth, with nudging and guidance as necessary. I am so proud that he wisely sacrificed his time and money for fruit which can never be taken away.

And it was a sacrifice. During these seven years he worked a stressful full-time job and coached our kids’ basketball teams, drove them to football, track, and soccer, taught some to walk and some to drive, changed a thousand diapers, and made his weekly awesome Sunday morning breakfasts. He took several groups of kids of all ages backpacking every summer to climb mountains. He was a volunteer, which means that he was never paid a penny, never acknowledged as a pastor or otherwise monetarily rewarded.  During these seven years, we added four children to our large family of nine, and “adopted” many teens and young adults. It was a good sacrifice for a great and lasting purpose.

The Bible tells us: “Now if any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work. If any man’s work which he has built on it remains, he will receive a reward.” The ripples of work in the Spirit cannot be fully measured this side of Heaven, but today I'm rejoicing in what I can measure... a Gathering of Fruitful Life!

Fear Be Gone

Today I am vaguely aware of an unsettled feeling. I dug a little deeper and recognized fear.

I don’t want it to be there, but fear is lurking in my subconscious just below the surface …enough for me to feel the unrest of a simmering soup pot of unwieldy emotions.

Simmering, not boiling.

But something’s cooking.

I guess it’s the unevenness of my life… some stuff doesn’t get done.

Okay...Let’s be honest here. A lot of stuff is right now not getting done.

And I am writing a blog.

And I’m resting, because I’m supposed to be resting or I’ll regret it.

You know, I was the girl who liked getting in every assignment in school, perfecting every grade, cleaning the house, controlling my surroundings.

I know life’s not like that.

Well, maybe someone’s life is like that.

But not mine.

I realize I have chosen anything but control and perfect order.

And usually I thrive on the excitement and level of faith this chaos forces me into.

I usually love that it forces me to rely on Jesus and I get to see miracles.

But I falter when that voice inside starts in with the “who do you think you are?” rhetoric…

And I wonder if my tight-rope walk is more me than Him and if He is really going to come through for me when I am probably even now failing Him.

Again.

Today, God is for me.

Be silent fear.  Love, wash over the imperfections of my life and drown out everything else.

Today, I will trust and not fear.

Adding Up the Years, Part 2

Again I am counting as I remember the past 22 years of parenting.

1,2,3.. Today I counted to 47,000.
Diapers changed in this household.
Over 22 years...
47,000, give or take a few.

As you gag in awe and disgust, I would like to offer an honorable mention to my life partner who, among all of his other wonderful traits, has hardly ever missed a chance to change a diaper.

I'm serious.
 
Ladies, take it from me, if you are going to choose a life partner, along with all the traits currently on your list, add  happily changes diapers. Even if you don't have a monstrous family like mine, you'll be glad you did!

 Add "   Happily changes diapers"  to your list of admirable traits when looking for a potential mate.

But I digress. Some numbers are astounding.  Like 12 years and 4 months of pregnancy. In those years, by the time I would nurse the newest baby, I would be having another.

I know. I'm not complaining, mind you. Just reminiscing.
I read a great “what people don't tell you about pregnancy" website the other day that said, “When it comes to getting your body back to your pre-pregnant state,  it’s best to think nine months on, nine months off.”  Pondering this, I laughed hysterically (some might say maniacally). 

My mantra might be, “At least nine and a half months on and 4-7 sleepless months off. Repeat."… For those of you who are really counting, just know that, in some random twist of fate..er...  that is..planned–for-my-growth design, I am the only person you know who has gone weeks overdue with twelve pregnancies.

Nursing. I think we’re talking at least fourteen cumulative years involved in that lovely activity.
And speaking of feeding children, three times a day for 22 years is 24,090 meals for an ever-increasing number of tummies pulled up around my table in varying sizes and appetites.

Laundry... oh please! Let's not talk loads. Let's just add up the mountains and let it go at that.

Then there are the books and songs. I probably shouldn’t even calculate how many times I’ve read the classic “Apple, Ducks, Block” or sung the “Rocking Chair Prayer” to a sleepy child.

Or a whole rocker full of children. I can fit four or five if I don’t need to turn the pages.

 Much more than can be added...

Of course, these are just statistics, and as such they are intrinsically deceiving.  In recent years, for instance, my kids have changed an awful lot (emphasis on awful) of diapers for their younger siblings and prepared many, many meals.  But parenting has been deeper and broader than these numbers suggest, thank the Lord.

As I look back, I am reminded of this one irrefutable fact. 

God has been faithful to my family. (Here circa 2004)
 

 Ooh, I am gonna hear about this one! Humility, children! Since we're counting, consider all the humiliation you've brought me... But seriously...

Our Creator has provided everything we needed to do what we’ve done. He has provided nice clothing, abundant good quality food, and more good books to read than we have room for. 

Our family has never lacked good friends of similar heart with whom to share the journey, support from creative, generous grandparents, and opportunities to let God’s love flow through us to and from others.

Our kids enjoyed the blessing of tree swings and trampolines in a large shady yard, the gift of cousins of similar ages to play with, and the chance to learn discipline through daily chores and yard work. 

They’ve gotten the home school advantage of independence and resourcefulness, and the depth of character-building from participating in sports teams.

And our Lord has provided all.

Looking back on the amazing journey only makes me more excited for the road ahead, 

even when I cannot see around the bend in the road.

God can be trusted. Think about it.

If you never trust Him, you’ll never know how cool life can be.
Adding up the numbers, to me they equal the sum of JOY!

Adding Up the Years

"It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge."  Phyllis Diller

Today I am celebrating parenthood. This is the 22^nd anniversary of my foray into the job.  

A friend suggested adding it all up, like they do for lawyer’s ads. Parenting each child gives me an astounding 161 years of experience. Together, hubby and I can put (2, carry the one) 322 years of parenting experience on our shingle! 

Now I remember why people always do a double-take when they hear our lucky number 13!

Every parent soon realizes parenting is the hardest job you’ll ever love.

 Parenting is the hardest job you'll ever love

Everyone commiserates that the pay is lousy, but we sometimes forget the benefits are outrageous. Carrying thirteen babies, one at a time over a span of 20 years, first in my heart, my body, then my arms, my home, my car, and finally my prayers has changed much more than the size of my waist and the amount in my bank account.

When that tiny baby looked up at me with wonder for the first time, my heart and life were irrevocably changed. The logic and reason I had before that point were destroyed in an explosion of overwhelming maternal compassion and protection.

So were my eardrums, but that’s another matter.

I believe everyone should have babies and teenagers at the same time. That way, when the teen rolls his eyes and slams into his room, the baby will look up at you with this adoring smile that says, “My world is complete!” and you have a spark of hope for another day.

 Everyone should have babies and teenagers at the same time...

Conversely, when you have spent the day shushing a crying baby and wiping spit-up off your shoulder, the teenager can take a turn patting and pacing and have a real adult conversation as he does.

As for having a large family, I highly recommend it. Adaptability keeps us young. Many of the folks with whom we started out having children are now rattling around in their empty houses. When they lay down a book, that book inexplicably stays in exactly the same spot until they pick it up again a week later. It does not migrate behind the couch or under the toddler’s bed. They wake every morning to silence and the sound of birdsong, not screaming. 

I certainly don't envy them.

Granted, we don’t have the energy we once did, but we are still happily in the full circle of busy parenting. Every day is filled with the learning and wonder of childhood… multiplied, of course, by the myriad of experiences. 

Keturah is potty training, Ezra is learning to tie his shoes, and Faith is memorizing her multiplication tables. Hannah is playing basketball, while Micah just got his first job. Our capacity for variety and change is continually challenged, and there is no end in sight. 

At the age when our schoolmates are facing the empty nest, we are learning and growing instead of settling in. 

This suits me. I’m not ready to be old.

Years ago, I had a vision of two gardens. The first one was in a tiny back yard. It consisted of a few ruler-straight rows of vegetables carefully tended so there was not a weed in sight.  A few modest vegetables were growing on the stalks. It looked good and virtuous and proper.

The other garden was an imposing sight to behold. A huge mass of plant material sprang from the ground in every configuration imaginable. Flowers were entwined with vegetables and fruit in a wild mass of growth. Weeds grew all around the garden, and even in it there were a few. But what drew my attention was the fruit. In this wild chaos of a garden grew this luscious, massive produce. The fruit and flowers were everywhere in great abundance. 

 What drew my attention was the fruit

I felt in that moment that God was showing me the choice I could make with my life. In attempting to control my parenting, I could have a beautifully managed garden with some genuine fruit. Or, I could give up control and let the garden grow in God’s way. 

I would risk the scrutiny of others and the lack of showmanship, but I could have the big healthy fruit.

I chose fruit.

Take it from my considerable years of experience. The fruit is incredibly sweet!

How to be the Perfect Parent

here

I am laughing at all of you who really thought I would tell you how to be the perfect parent. Or maybe you are laughing at me, just tuning in to see what crazy idea I will come up with next. I promise not to disappoint on the crazy idea.

But are you a good parent? 

Does this question bring that familiar weight of guilt??

There is a strong sub-cultural notion that our most important job (if not our only value to this earth) is our parenting. 

This seems to me to be backward. For the circle of moms and dads I hang with, guilt is the emotion of the hour. Moms especially seem willing to sacrifice everything to the elusive goal of perfect parenting, while the foundational relationship of marriage suffers, and the foundation for all of life is completely ignored.

 There is a strong sub-cultural notion that our most important job (if not our only value to this earth) is our parenting.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course, mothering is incredibly valuable and important. It has often been underrated. The largest part of our culture idealizes children being raised by paid strangers while their own mothers make money to pay for luxuries. Don’t get me started on that stupidity! 

But there is an approach that is attempting to rectify cultural stupidity by creating an imbalance of its own. It is especially prevalent in churches and schools. While attempting to be the good parents, we who should know better fall short of God’s best.

My life is not about parenting

My life is not about parenting. Does this surprise you?? It surprises most people I meet, and they make comments about how much I am… myself.  Even though I have more kids than anyone you know, I am still called to be me before being a mother or a wife. Even though I home school, and most of my children have more time with me than any other adult, parenting is not my true identity.

My life is about Jesus. About walking with and obeying Jesus. Although mothering is more noble than my culture will admit, my identity is far greater than mothering.

Who will change the world?

If a person’s life goal just to raise good kids and then when they are grown their job is to raise good kids, and so on, who will change the world?? 

Good kids won’t change the world, especially when their sole spiritual purpose is to look like good parents when they become adults. Unless adults set the example of being the kind of parent who takes the risks of faith, surrendering everything including being the perfect parent (or looking like the perfect parent) at the foot of the cross, our kids may grow to merely look like good people instead of becoming the world changers they were designed to be.

One of the amazing surprises of motherhood is that your children do not become who you diligently teach them to be.

No. I wish.

They become who you are.

Take It from me. I have said before that I have an advantage usually afforded only to grandparents… the chance to see how the seeds I planted look after 20 or so years… but while I still have little ones under my roof. I have the insight of a grandparent while still being a parent.

It’s scary. I mean it

your children do not become who you diligently teach them to be

It can make you (on a bad day) wonder what the heck you ever thought you were thinking of in procreating in the first place. Let me hasten to say that this is not because I am ashamed of my older kids, or because they are failures. Not at all.

The fruit of your life does not lie.

But I see now, more than ever, how my mistakes have hurt them. Specifically, the areas in my life where I did not seek Jesus first, where I did the religious thing instead of the honest, risky, faith-filled thing… those areas? My kids paid the price. No one outside my home saw it coming. I fooled them all with my “my life is about home schooling” schtick. But I did not fool my kids. They knew me better than I knew myself.

Take it from me. The fruit of your life does not lie.

Children make it their life goal to observe their parents in order to make sense of the world.

And while you, dear mother, are committed to staying at home, committed to attending every sports game, committed to never missing a parent-teacher conference, committed to run and pick them up on the playground when they fall down, or whatever culturally decides you to be a superior parent, please remember that it is your relationship with Jesus which will determine what your kids know and believe about Him. Not what you teach them, not even what you so carefully model, but what you truly believe enough to stake your life on.

As you walk with God, there will come a time when He will ask you to do what is culturally unacceptable, what looks like negligent parenting perhaps. Maybe you will have more than two kids in a bedroom, miss a game or a conference, smile and encourage your toddler when he falls down instead of running to pick him up. And those around you may judge you, but when you walk with Jesus you walk outside the camp with Him, bearing His reproach. 

As you walk with God, there will come a time when He will ask you to do what is culturally unacceptable 

And that’s when your parenting becomes about giving your child what they best need to become the person they were truly meant to be… a world changer.

Pharisees maintain the status quo, They have to, in order to look good.

World-changers buck the status quo. They have to, in order to change the world.

Be a parent who is a world changer.

Hannah's Plan

Our Hannah started public school today. This experience is a bit unique to us, despite the number of kiddos we have. She has been rather dreading her first day as a sophomore, when she has to leave the freedom and security of life at home and go into windowless classrooms full of bored and hurting teens.

Our other kids her age and ability have started early college, but God has Hannah on a different track. She’s a bit of an athletic star, and as such has the privilege of playing basketball for the high school. Last year she played JV as a freshman and learned a ton. All the other girls had played together on special teams since they were in fifth grade. But this group let her in. It was a bit of a miracle in itself for the typically insecure group of public school girls to be nice to a former home –schooler they didn’t know, especially one who might take their position.

We talked on the way this morning about goals for the year. She has been praying for a friend with whom to share the battle. She knows she is there to make a difference. In this situation, you can hardly go in preaching on a soapbox and be effective. So the goals are:

1) Strive to succeed in everything you do. God may continue to grace your abilities and favor you, I reminded her, because when others respect you it gives you a platform for the gospel.

2) Plan now to put something into everyone you meet, even if it is a smile, a listening ear, a companionable acceptance of who God made them to be.

3) Look for the honest occasional opportunity to mention Jesus in your general conversation, so that people will understand why you are so giving, happy, and successful. (This part isn’t preaching, but just dropping a hint so the questioners will have an answer.) And

4) Pray for each person in your new environment, that God will stir up the circumstances in their lives so that their “field” will be tilled and ready for the seed you can plant. Ask God for a specific strategy for each person, and insight into their need beyond the school façade.

Even though I know the Lord made it clear this was His plan for Hannah, I had a moment of overwhelming sadness as I dropped her off. Watching the kids enter the building, it was hard to leave her there in that environment where students and teachers seem godless, bored, and beaten down. Her experiences last year (though full of blessings and victories) were a daily battle against the idea that being who you are is not good enough, as the prevailing attitude is often ridicule of joy and creativity.

I’m reminded that she is not mine, but the Lord's, and I raised her to be the person who challenges the status quo and fights that battle which is never against flesh and blood. I'm glad she goes forward on the offensive, praying and planting, knowing who she is and prepared to be a beacon in a very dark world.

When I picked Hannah up after school, she was all aglow. A few lockers down from hers, she made a new acquaintance her age who had been praying all summer for a Christian friend. What a joy that they can work the plan this year together!