Our beloved old pastor (old as in a previous pastor, not an ancient pastor), his wife and their teenaged son, are moving back to the area tomorrow. Our church congregation is thrilled and full of anticipation – it is a happy reunion for all! Today I helped clean the 3-bedroom, 1-bathroom house they will rent initially while looking for a permanent home, and also stocked the refrigerator with a few staples.
I met the owners of the rental today as well, a seemingly vibrant, optimistic couple with thirteen children who are in the process of moving into a larger home. Yes. THIRTEEN. CHILDREN. Some of the kids are adopted, and in the midst of casual conversation I learned two of them with special needs had alcohol-addicted birth-mothers. Observation tells me these parents have chosen to live their everyday lives as a form of ministry.
Most of my cleaning efforts today were spent in the kitchen. Among a variety of miscellaneous “treasures” beneath the stove and refrigerator, dry macaroni, crayons, and the inevitable legos came to light. I noticed names printed on the edge of a shelf inside a cabinet, presumably marking child-specific slots for something – maybe lunchbox snacks, or drinking cups, or rewards for chores when accomplished? On the back of one cabinet door was an impressive collection of blue Chiquita banana stickers.
This evening as I sit in my quiet living room with a sparkly Christmas tree for company, soft music (a new Christmas CD) plays in the background. I keep reviewing the day, and can’t help but wonder about this family’s everyday lifestyle in that house. How many peanut butter sandwiches were made on that kitchen counter? How many tears were spilled on an average day, and how many hugs shared? What lessons about sacrificial love, commitment, and sharing did the children learn within those rooms? What delightful and creative play erupted in the midst of such a troupe – especially with a back yard full of forts and swings, and an enticing forest behind them? How was laundry handled, not to mention bath time?
A larger question also presses. Why did the parents seem so upbeat and unruffled today? Why didn’t they cave in to at least a sigh here or there, or a weary look? Shouldn’t they be exhausted, both physically and emotionally? They’re living on the husband’s ample but not remarkable salary, so frivolities are most likely scarce. However, they seem to not only tolerate the ongoing work before them, but are genuinely at peace with themselves and their life.
I’ve only barely met these two people while we worked together briefly today, and yet I feel I know a lot about them just from a few casual comments. I sense they’ve discovered, and cultivated, peace with God. And that inner peace is what launches everything else.
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