Do You Ever Feel Like the Last Laugh is on You?

After thirty-six years of marriage, six children, and twenty six years of homeschooling, I finally understand. Who would have thought after all the play dough I've mixed, bread dough I've baked, and kid character dough I've shaped, I was the ball of clay? I've been the big mix of the Master Potter all along.

I remember mornings I rummaged blindly for the coffee pot, desperate for that single cup to start my engine. My boys would someday provide for families, so I pushed myself into each new day before the sun was up. Could the Lord have been making a morning person out of me? I never was, you know, but now I relish the quiet moments before sunrise.

Many days I was tempted to switch on the television and self-medicate from all my responsibilities. But, I wanted my kids to remember their mom as industrious. Could God have been protecting me from hours of wasted time and the squandering of my gifts? Self-discovery happened, instead. I love to write.

Somehow amid all the giving and teaching going on at my house, God is smiling.

Once I made a chart for the children to instruct them in the disciplines of keeping house. One of the little guys said, “Mommy, your bed isn't always made, and your room isn't always clean.” Ouch! While I did my best to teach the children consistency and good habits, God nudged me. Grace is a lovely, undeserved thing. 

Every time the kids took on a project—there I was—smack in the middle of it. I endured to spark their creativity, but discovered talents I possessed; I would not have endeavored so hard for myself.

Then there were all those precious moments when their elbows were on the table and they rested their faces in their chubby, little hands, and said…“I can't.” Who knew I would learn motivational secrets as effective as Dale Carnegie?

I rehearsed scriptures with the children time and again, hoping to build their characters strong and sound: Griping makes us discouraged, honey. A just man falls down seven times, but he gets up. A fountain can't bring forth bitter and sweet water, baby. Ask and He shall give. Could the Lord have been training me?

Grace is a lovely, undeserved thing. 

What about this new season? I still wear a high school teacher homeschooling hat, but I’m also a grandparent and babysitter on call. I’m my mom’s caregiver. I’m an addicted to the core writer. Watch me juggle like a Barnum and Bailey Circus clown. Watch my keyboard as it clicks, documenting my heart. I may have dinner in my teeth, a diaper pail running over, homework to check, deadlines to meet, and an elderly mother asking me to program the DVR for Dancing with the Stars, but I am still growing up.

Somehow amid all the giving and teaching going on at my house, God is smiling. He’s looking down upon my home and sizing up the job. Then in laughter and delight, He’s custom making me fit it—just a little shaping at a time.

Do you ever feel the last laugh is on you? How is God gently molding your life? Certainly, I am not the only one.