There's a lot that goes on in my house everyday. Within a one-hour span of time, there might be babies born, castles overtaken, Mack truck accidents, and breakfast, lunch, dinner and tea served. There are days I share my home with Spiderman, Nicole, Joseph and Mary, or The Cat in the Hat. We have our own version of wrestling matches (on occasion, Jack has been known to come out with large tufts of Bronwyn's curls in hand) and we must always be mindful of the three extra babies in the home, whom Gabriel and Bronwyn care for and require me to care for, too. In one day we might travel to Boston, Farmer Will's yard, New York City, and to watch a Christmas play--and more!

It's no wonder that come evening, I'm tired!

Raising children takes a lot of work. I feel I am only barely tasting how much energy and investment my offspring will require of me. Sometimes I like the taste. Sometimes (I'll be honest) I don't.

I don't like it when they don't sleep well and much, when they disrespect me to my face and/or behind my back, when they lie, when they cry hysterically, when they interrupt my projects, when they fling food onto the freshly vacuumed carpet, or when they break our belongings. But it happens. All of it. Sometimes all in one day.

My children cost me. Even when it's a pleasant investment--perhaps snuggling in freshly washed pj's with the scent of freshly washed hair and bodies while reading a comforting bedtime story--it's a denying of what I might otherwise be doing with my time for the sake of my children. I'll be yet again honest: sometimes I don't like being so generous.

I've been blessed in a wonderful mother example throughout my childhood that helps me set aside the me factor and make the right choice. After 19 years of living in Mom's home, I usually know what the right choice is even when I don't like it. She showed me.

I've also been blessed in always being in church families that esteem and treasure the role of a mom in her children's lives. I like that most of the Christians I know don't look down their nose at this 24-year-old mom-of-3 but, rather, tell me I'm doing a good job and that they appreciate what I do. (I suppose you have to be a mom to realize how priceless it is to hear someone say, "Thanks," when you've not done anything that immediately touches their lives.)

Sometimes role models and others' encouragement isn't enough, though. The overwhelming waves of insecurity, feeling incapable, wanting to quit, and self-centeredness can't be held at bay by any human effort.

That's when I look to Jesus.

He was a pretty good example of laying down His life, I'd say. His love stretches so far beyond anything I can comprehend. That God Himself would become a man... that He would subject Himself to the pain and sorrow of this world... that He would endure for years the scorn of others'... that He would die an awful death for me--for every single person... that He would do this, and that He would look to Heaven all the while...

Jesus' love is enough.

To hold the waves at bay. To guard me from the enemy's whispers. To protect and prosper my life. To help me lay myself down again. To teach me how to live. To bring me through this world. To carry me Home with Him.

He's enough. And I love Him for being enough.