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According to Us

One Husband, One Wife, Five Children and Everything in Between

I’m going to try to spare you (whoever you may be) from really “slight” things that I am thankful for. (One Thanksgiving, when I was a teen, we were sharing things we were thankful for. I played the “silly” card by naming things like deodorant, jelly beans, and my cat.)  However, they won’t be as heavy as today’s.  This is not something that I am proud of, but the end shows how gratitude changes a person’s heart.

Today I am thankful for The Baby.
I’ve shared many times that we are a family of 6. Long before Alan and I started to have children, we knew that we always wanted 4 of them. I have 6 siblings, and he had only two, who were both older than he was. I have so many great memories with my siblings, even if I wasn’t directly part of them. We wanted the same for our children. We wanted them to have each other in a somewhat large count.
I never thought that I wanted 4 in the timing that it happened. Shortly after Sweet T. had turned 1, we discovered that we were pregnant with #4. (She and the Baby are 20 months apart.)
Although having a family of 6 comes with its normal financial woes and troubles, having a family of 6, with 4 kids under the age of 7, with one working parent, and that working parents happens to be in school full-time bumps the financial pressure up even more. To add to this trying time, I felt alone. Not because I had no one, but I was a preacher’s wife. If there was ever anyone that should always trust God to provide it was me. I put myself in this unrealistic bubble, and unknowing bound myself to unnecessary chains.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t trust God.
I slowly began to envelope myself in a disgusting downward spiral of pity, selfishness, and anger. How could a God who provides for our family allow this to happen to us. We were already drowning in a sea of debt. This time led me down a dark path. I was so angry at the God who saved my darkest soul. I hated the child that was growing in my stomach, and every day I would pray that some how it would go away. [I wanted her to die.] I hate even to share this, because it is a very ugly side that no person wants to admit.
I am a murderer. Not in a literal sense, but in my heart at that time I wanted nothing more.
Needless to say, she continued to grow inside. I remember at one time being so angry at God, but I refused to walk away from Him. In the end, my faith in the Savior of my soul: my black, disgusting, hateful, selfish, murdering soul was the thing that brought me out. Little by little I began to move towards the Word. Every day it began to heal me on the inside.
By the time late May had rolled around, my mind and heart had completely changed. Those feelings I shared above were cleansed away. Although I often remind myself that I am capable of murder, it is also a reminder of how deep God’s grace and forgiveness flow. Every time I hold the Baby, she is a reminder of the goodness of God. When I look at her I see more than a daughter that Alan and I share in love as every parent loves their child. She represents grace.
I am thankful for the Baby.
I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service.
Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent (woman),
I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief.
The faith of the Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.
1 Timothy 1:12-13

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