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Gold, Common Sense, And
Fur
My
husband and I had been happily (most of the time) married for five years, but
hadn’t been blessed with a baby. I decided to do some serious praying and
promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a perfect mother, love
it with all my heart, and raise it with His word as my guide. God
answered my prayers and blessed us with a son. The next year God blessed us with
another son. The following year, he blessed us with yet another son. The year
after that we were blessed with a daughter. My
husband thought we’d been blessed right into poverty. We now had four
children, and the oldest was only four years old. I learned never to ask God for
anything unless I meant it. As a minister once told me, “If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella.” I began reading a few verses of the Bible to
the children each day as they lay in their cribs. I was off to a good start. God
had entrusted me with four children and I didn’t want to disappoint Him. I
tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen
floor searching for baby chicks. I tried to be understanding when they started a
hotel for homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two
hours to catch all twenty-three frogs. When
my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the mess. In
spite of changing over 25 thousand diapers, never eating a hot meal and never
sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time, I still thank God daily for my
children. While
I couldn’t keep my promise to be a perfect mother - I didn’t even come close
- I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God. I knew
I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were going to
church to worship God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to “wash
up” Jesus too. Something
was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought is was generous of God to give us his “last wife”. My
proudest moment came during the Children’s Christmas Pageant. My daughter was
playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds, and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine. My
five year old shepherd has practiced his line, “We found the babe wrapped in
swaddling clothes.” But he was nervous and said “The baby was wrapped in
wrinkled clothes.” My four year old “Mary” said “That’s not
‘wrinkled clothes,’ silly. That’s dirty, rotten clothes.” A
wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped by an
angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing. I slouched a little lower in my
seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the
aisle crying “Mamma-mamma”. Mary
grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men
arrived. My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger and announced “We are the three wise men, and we are
bringing gifts of gold, common sense, and fur.” The
congregation dissolved into laughter and the pageant got a standing ovation. “I’ve
never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one.” Father Brian laughed,
wiping tears from his eyes. “For the rest of my life, I’ll never hear the
Christmas story without thinking of gold, common sense, and fur.” “My
children are my pride and my joy and my greatest blessing.” I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin. |
Send mail to llkauer@chartermi.net
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