Richer in Heart

Shop owner, "Are those ALL your babies?!"

I laugh and confirm they're all mine.

Shop owner, "Are you rich?"

Me, "No! I'm rich in heart though."

He paused and put his hand on his heart as he considered that phrase. 

"Rich in heart," he said quietly, "rich in heart, I like that very much..."

This is a conversation I had with a man some weeks ago, that I hope will never leave my memory. It seems like a good place to set the scene for a story that begins in Sunny France almost a year ago. 

We had arrived early to the missionary conference that Jason had travelled to for many summers with his mom and siblings. This year he was returning as a man with his own family of four small children. Our family was complete with two boys and two girls, and as we fumbled around the car making sandwiches and stretching our legs after the long hot drive, another vehicle pulled up beside ours. The man and wife started out of the van, introducing themselves and welcoming us. I noticed their van full of suitcases and faces and tried to count how many kids this fellow mama had hidden in there. They introduced the smiling and well mannered children in their van. "Five children!" I remarked, pleased to have a similar number and I was certain we'd become friends. "Yes, this is five of them, the other three aren't here this year." 

"Eight children," remarked Jason this time (we are mathematicians.) I shot him a warning look, recognising the hopefulness in his eyes and reminded him sternly, "FOUR children, Jason." I held up my fingers to reveal 1,2,3,4 - just incase he hadn't understood my limitations. The conversation shifted to the practicalities of where to check in and locating a pool to cool off in and we never did discuss family size with them or why they had chosen to have so many. 

Something happened that week. A series of events that started further back, when I started to obey - really obey - as God asked me to hand over certain areas of my life to Him. I got stuck at this same area every time, point blankly refusing to hand over how many children I would have. As far as I was concerned, I had gone beyond my duty already. I had four in a world where one or two is supposed to be plenty. I had survived the looks and typical rude comments about getting a TV or knowing how to 'stop that' as if children were an accidental inconvenience. We do, of course, get encouragement and compliments from strangers too, but for some reason those negative remarks survive longer in my memory. 

After a week long, amazing conference filled with excellent teaching and precious friendships we set off on our way to Switzerland for a work conference that Jay had to attend. The car was full but quiet, only for the sound of the CD playing, as we drove though the beautiful mountain roads. The words in the song were the final straw to my already weakening resolve, as they gently dissolved every reasonable remaining thought as to why this area could not be released....and then I began to cry, as I accepted two names from the Lord for our future children and surrendered as the words of the chorus washed over me along with my tears.

"Be strong in the Lord, and never give up hope. You're gonna do great things. I already know, that God's got his hand on you so don't live your life in fear. Forgive and forget but don't forget why you're here. Take your time and pray. These are the words I would say."

- Sidewalk Prophets, 'The Words I Would Say'

I handed over the fear of having disabled children, knowing I was blessed to have four healthy kids. I gave up the anxiety that cripples me over weight gain in pregnancy and being terrified of facing labour again. I gave up the, "what will people say about us?" I surrendered financial concerns and stopped my repeated question, "how will I cope?" I offered my fear that I will be tired foreverrrrrrr...an absolute possibility, and resigned my confusion as to why He would want me to have more children when I knew others who were desperate to have just one child. I still have no explanation on that, except that I know it is not because of anything I deserve. God has absolutely seen every single daily and hourly failing I commit as a parent so there's zero evidence to suggest I would be trusted with more because I'm so good at parenting! It's simply not the truth.

Poor Jason hadn't noticed my quiet cascade of tears until he caught sight of my red and swollen eyes and heard my stifled shudders of breath. He looked concerned and then smiled gently (while carefully manoeuvring the roads, cos he's awesome like that) as I explained the battle that had been going on all week and the result and most recently the names I had been given and what they represented. We talked and cried (mostly me...ok yes, just me) and rejoiced in obedience and the hope of plans for good that God promises us. (Jeremiah 29:11)

It just so happened that we had opportunity to stay a couple of nights with the family of 10 from the start of the story while making our way back to the ferry to Ireland. Dear Jennifer got the whole story in one go, and we finally had opportunity to hear their journey of how they ended up travelling the path of trust and surrender before us. It was a God ordained visit and one I will always remember as one of those pivital times in my life.

On we journeyed back to Ireland, cracking the cars sump on a low speed bump and leaking oil all over the ferry. We prayed together that night as we looked towards a long day of tow trucks and exhaustion. The next morning we woke to Grace's smiling face as she asked, "are you excited to see what Jesus will do today to help us?!" Shame on me, I wasn't. She was full of hope based on the Bible story I had told the night before. She heard the Word and believed it, as I silently prayed for God to prove Grace's faith and work despite my lack. Somehow, the car started. Miraculously, the car didnt explode as we made it to the first petrol station purely on the hope of a God who can be trusted. A God who works miracles and does things that aren't logical, in ways I'll never understand. And it's a good thing too because He has given us something else. Someone who will make us richer in heart. Little Von Meding number 5, the one I wasn't going to have, will be blessing us with their presence in January. Here on the other side of the world. A gift from God despite my failings and doubt. A miracle knit together in my womb, how every child begins. For no child is anything short of a miracle and a gift. 

As we start these first weeks and months the doubts and fears I gave up are starting to whisper again, as if they have permission to be here or belong in this heart. They do not. By God's grace I will see them transformed into faith and hope and love and freedom. Because God does that like no other. From the burnt ashes of my offerings to him, beauty will rise. To Him be the Glory!