The number "7" has always figured prominently in my life. As a young soccer player I always attempted to score the jersey with a 7. If I had to choose a number between 1 and 10, it was a no brainer: 7. Jesus used 7 too, which as a youngster I always felt was important- he instructed that one is to forgive 70 times 7. I even have a color associated with the number: a bright emerald green. (Though to be fair I associate most numbers with colors: 2 is red, 3 is blue, 5 is yellow...) While I have never attributed any magical powers to 7 I have always thought of it as "my" number. Dunno why. Of course there are some people who REALLY like the number as they are actually naming their children after the number- bizarre. Perhaps they know something that I do not?)
I never realized just how special the number 7 would be. This year ('07) we welcomed our 7th child. I was happy to meet his dear self, and felt just fine with this perhaps being our "finale" addition. While I don't claim to know God's will for our life with regard to family number I feel good about this lovely 7th child. 5 girls framed between 2 boy book ends. Neat and tidy- utterly unreflected in the rest of our life- and wonderful.
One frustration that I will always have is the constant comments from others insisting that this surely "must" be our last child. Why would a complete stranger care about my family composition and number? Perhaps they just can't see how lucky* we are with 7.
*when I say lucky I am actually saying blessed....
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
reaping & sowing
A wise woman discussed the seasons of life with me the other day.
After I had caught her up on the doings in our rambunctious household she explained to me how my husband and I were in the summer of our lifetime. We were working hard, and as the Chinese might say, willingly eating bitterness. Bent over in our fields toiling, we barely have time to wipe the bit of sweat off our brow so busy were we sowing. We plant the seeds of righteousness in our household, in our children, we nurture the growth we see as well as prepare for the fruit we expect to yield, encouraging it along the way. The dear lady explained that she and her husband, empty nesters, were in the fall of their life- they were reaping the bounty for which they worked so hard for- their great kids were turning into competent, interesting and responsible adults, their businesses were going well and affording them the opportunity to travel to see loved ones and they were having a great time as a couple. But none of this would have been possible without the hard work, patience and perseverance during the summer of their life.
Recently she had visited family and was witnessing to me what winter looks like. Her in-laws, now in their 80’s, had braved many terrible storms together: war, deaths of loved ones, immigration from Europe, miscarriages, and now perhaps the most terrible one, Alzheimer’s. After dinner one evening this man and wife sat close to one another and watched slides of their life together- over 60 years of togetherness and hard work. The images they looked upon were much younger versions of themselves and their now middle-aged children and diseased parents. The wise woman commented that it was in the winter of our lives that we needed the filled storehouses from which to draw. We reap what we sow.
I pray that we are sowing a hearty harvest together, my husband and I, as we keep our heads down working hard with sweat dripping off of our brow.
After I had caught her up on the doings in our rambunctious household she explained to me how my husband and I were in the summer of our lifetime. We were working hard, and as the Chinese might say, willingly eating bitterness. Bent over in our fields toiling, we barely have time to wipe the bit of sweat off our brow so busy were we sowing. We plant the seeds of righteousness in our household, in our children, we nurture the growth we see as well as prepare for the fruit we expect to yield, encouraging it along the way. The dear lady explained that she and her husband, empty nesters, were in the fall of their life- they were reaping the bounty for which they worked so hard for- their great kids were turning into competent, interesting and responsible adults, their businesses were going well and affording them the opportunity to travel to see loved ones and they were having a great time as a couple. But none of this would have been possible without the hard work, patience and perseverance during the summer of their life.
Recently she had visited family and was witnessing to me what winter looks like. Her in-laws, now in their 80’s, had braved many terrible storms together: war, deaths of loved ones, immigration from Europe, miscarriages, and now perhaps the most terrible one, Alzheimer’s. After dinner one evening this man and wife sat close to one another and watched slides of their life together- over 60 years of togetherness and hard work. The images they looked upon were much younger versions of themselves and their now middle-aged children and diseased parents. The wise woman commented that it was in the winter of our lives that we needed the filled storehouses from which to draw. We reap what we sow.
I pray that we are sowing a hearty harvest together, my husband and I, as we keep our heads down working hard with sweat dripping off of our brow.
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