I Just Want You to Know (6 page)

napkins and she was able to get them for all the kids. Both Hannah and Leah were able to handle ketchup with their fries.

After dinner, we went back to our favorite playground—Cocoa Castle—and this time we were able to stay longer. They played until it was time to leave and everyone went willingly. I was so proud of them. “Good job, guys!” I said.

“Good job, Mommy!” said Hannah.

That was so sweet to hear. Especially because I felt like I had done a good job. I had spent the day cleaning and then I had the rare privilege of not having to make dinner and clean up the mess. When we got home, all we had to do was give the kids a bath and put them to bed. Oh, how marvelous!

Going anywhere outside of the house was a treat for the kids. I remember a trip to Target right around that time. Jon and I each put four kids in a cart. We got the usual stares and conversations, but the
kids didn’t notice. They were all looking up at the shelves lined with colors and shapes. It just wasn’t normal for them to go to a store like that, in fact, for some of them, it may have been their first visit. Our kids were always so good in public because they didn’t get to go out very often. They were too amazed at everything they saw to act up. As we loaded the kids in the car, Leah started fussing and tried to tell me something. “No home, Mommy. No home, Mommy!”

She didn’t want to leave!

“Are you having fun, Leah?” I asked.

She nodded her head.

“Okay, how about we drive around and you can look out the window?”

She seemed happy with that idea. She is really easy, let me tell you.

By September 2006, we had the basics down. We could do family outings without too much trouble. One Sunday we took the kids to Applebee’s, calling ahead to arrange seating.

When we arrived, we used our newest (and easiest!) way of moving: we walked in holding hands. People were awed—actually staring with open mouths—as we walked to our table. One lady and her husband at the bar both seemed fascinated with us; they had a curious expression as they watched our every move. They also had a baby with them. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking as they watched our little parade.

We got everyone seated rather quickly and in a relatively organized fashion. The waitress said we could have two free kids’ meals with their kids’ club and she gave me a card for each child for a free meal on their birthday. The staff went out of their way to be kind and we so appreciated their generosity and help.

At some point, a new waitress came over to our table. “Here, this is for you,” she said, handing Jon a five-dollar bill.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“I was working the take-out section and a woman picking up her food saw your van. She asked me if a couple with twins and sextuplets was inside. I told her yes. Then she gave me the money and asked me to give it to you.”

Jon and I were surprised and touched by her kindness.

The kids ate well and were very well behaved. I think we impressed the people around us. I don’t want to brag, but I was impressed myself. The Applebee’s employees all stood and waved as we left. The kids said “bye-bye.” It was too cute!

When we got into the van, Jon put his hand out and we slapped a high-five.

“That was cake!” he said.

I thought so too. When we first started going out with the kids I never imagined a day we’d think it was easy.

I think we appreciated those experiences more than “normal” families because we had to work so much harder to make them happen. Sometimes people would say, “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe you took all the kids and did that.” And I understood. Pure exhaustion followed every excursion. Not only because of the planning and execution, but also because of the emotional energy of constantly being on high alert. It would have been much easier to stay home, but we wanted our kids to have opportunities to experience the world outside our home.

I grew up in a house with four siblings, and I don’t ever remember being in a restaurant with my family. Until I was an adult, I didn’t even know how to order off of a menu! I didn’t want that for my kids. We couldn’t afford to eat out often, but we did it as often as we could.

After the dinner at Applebee’s, we went to the Cocoa Castle. As we pulled in, Hannah yelled, “Castle! Hi Castle!” Somehow, that made all our effort worth it. My kids were braver than they were at the beginning of the summer. They were eagerly embracing and
engaging the world around them. Though it was exhausting for Jon and me, that’s why we did it.

When your kids can get through a meal in a restaurant and the waitress compliments their behavior, you know you’ve done something right. Yes, we’ve had those meals where Mady (or any of the kids for that matter) melted down and Jon took them to the car to deal with it, but that’s part of growing too.

We pushed through. We started with church and took on more challenges over time. Each trip taught us something that we applied to the planning and logistics of the next one. Looking back, I can see that it would have been easy to allow our fears to keep us inside our house, but by tackling that fear head on, we were able to expand our comfort zone. That first trip to the zoo wasn’t a treat, but it was a confidence builder and formed the foundation for the trips we took later and enjoyed. We didn’t let the bad times stop us from trying again. We learned that anything was possible, not because of the right preparation, but because of the right attitude. That’s the bottom line. It takes a lot of energy, but if you want something enough, it can be done.

Starting from the time the little kids turned two, my faith started to grow and became personal to me, and I began writing prayers—in essence, my own letters to God—in my journal as an expression of faith.

When the little kids were born, we just needed God to show up and provide for us. It wasn’t until two years later that I realized and understood that he wanted a unique and personal relationship with each of us. He created each of us uniquely and we all matter to him—our needs, wants, and desires are all important to God. I could have done fertility treatments for years, and if it wasn’t his plan for us to have twins and sextuplets, we wouldn’t have had them—or any kids for that matter. This was God’s perfect plan for us, and I was awed by the realization that he had a plan for my life and for my family. He uniquely picked me to be the mother of these exact kids, and I needed to trust that his plan was the best plan for me. Accordingly,
I needed to adjust “my plan” with his perfect plan—even when it felt exhausting (which was pretty much all the time).

My faith was always important to me but it was never more important than when I had to depend on God to provide for my family. I prayed for little things and big things; praying made it possible for me not to worry anymore. I asked him to lead my prayers because I truly didn’t want anything that God didn’t want for me. He never failed us. His provision was so clear, we could not deny it. Every single day we saw a miracle.

One of my very favorite stories—and one that I mention frequently—began on Christmas Eve in 2006 when my brother and sisters and their families came over to celebrate the holiday with us. After dinner, as we were doing dishes, my sister Kendra was talking about a family at her church with four kids, whose Christmas was going to be difficult for them because the dad had been unemployed for over a year.

As I handed her a dish to dry, I got a sick feeling in my stomach and thought, “Been there, done that. I do not ever want to go back to that time in our lives.”

After they left, I could not stop thinking about that family. I knew God was saying I needed to write them a check. I remember arguing with him for a few days, but he wouldn’t let up and even put a number in my head. Finally, out of exasperation, I called my sister to get the family’s name and address. I wrote out the check right then and there and ran to the mailbox. (You would run too if you had six two-year-olds ready to disassemble your house on a moment’s notice. ) When I opened up the mailbox, I saw another envelope inside with a bow on it. It hadn’t come through the mail system. In my best time-saving skills, I ripped open the envelope as I was running back to the house. I literally almost fell over when I saw what was inside: A gift card for Sam’s Club in the exact amount I had just written the check for.

This is only one example of the many times God has provided
perfectly. We could not deny his work in our house. Chance could not have put that envelope in our mailbox with the gift card. In the exact amount. On that exact day. This still amazes me.

One day when Mady was five, she was playing in the basement. She’s naturally inquisitive, so she’s always asking me questions. After a few questions about Jesus, she said matter-of-factly: “So Mommy, tell me how I can go to heaven.”

I was a little taken aback since she was only five, and I have never pressured any of my kids into this decision. But she seemed to understand what she was asking, so I explained that she had to ask Jesus into her heart.

Mady answered, “Oh, I’d like to do that.”

Right there in the middle of our toy explosion, she accepted Jesus into her heart. Cara sat back and watched, but her turn didn’t come until a year later.

One stormy summer night, we were sitting down to have dinner and Hannah was singing, “B-I-B-I-B.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was B-I-B-L-E. “Who’s going to say thank you to Jesus?” I asked.

“I will!” Mady said.

Cara said, “We should pray for Daddy that he is safe. It looks scary outside.” Jon hadn’t come home from work yet and the storm looked like it was getting worse. And then she added softly, “Mommy. I want to ask Jesus into my heart after dinner.”

“Oh, Cara, of course!” I said through tears as I bent down to give her a hug.

After dinner, the girls took the little kids downstairs to play while I cleaned up. Cara came back up after a few minutes and said, “Remember, I want to ask Jesus into my heart.” I put down the cups I was clearing and took her into our bedroom and led her in the salvation prayer.

“Dear Jesus, I know I’m a sinner. Please forgive me. Please come into my heart. Thank you for dying on the cross for my sins so I can live forever with you as you promised. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Apart from seeing your kids born healthy, there is nothing sweeter than seeing them accept Jesus into their heart.

One of the biggest ways I put my faith to the test during this time was the decision to quit my job. In April of 2005 I had started working again—one day a week as a nurse at an outpatient dialysis clinic. Every Saturday I worked a double shift (sixteen hours). At our old house, work was only five minutes away, but it was an hour away from Elizabethtown. I left at five a.m., started work at six a.m., and worked until ten p.m., so I didn’t get home until eleven at night. I frequently asked Jon to pray for my drive home as I was exhausted after that long day and often dozed off on the road. It was scary!

As brutal as such a long workday was, it really was a great setup for us. I was grateful for the opportunity, as such flexibility in a job is hard to come by.

Every Friday I prepped all day for Saturday. I left notes, schedules, and meals, and Jon was home with the kids all day on Saturday. I used to say, “In our house, mom or dad, it doesn’t make a difference. ” Jon was a very hands-on dad, and our kids didn’t prefer a parent—one was as good as the other.

By mid-2006 I started to feel that I needed to quit my job to be home more. We were trying to fit in filming time, and I didn’t want to miss every Saturday. The guilt of not being with my family on the weekends weighed heavily on me.

I prayed constantly for my girls, who were in first grade. I asked God to protect them and to bring them home safely every day. I prayed that God would keep them innocent from all evil at school and to feel his love around them. I wanted them to shine for him!

But even with all my prayers, I still missed my big girls. They
were gone to school during the week, and I was working on the weekends. I prayed that God would make a way for me to be home at least until the six were in school full time. Besides, Jon and I needed to have some lazy Saturdays as a family to let a little steam out of the pressure cooker of life. “Please, Lord,” I said, “please! I want to be here!”

Soon I felt like God was saying, “Okay. Quit. Trust me on this.”

As much as I wanted to do what he asked, I ignored him. We really needed my paycheck, and I couldn’t see how we could make it work without that income. I continued to wrestle with this issue. I really wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but the financial part didn’t seem to line up with my desire. I knew God was urging me to quit and trust in him—and I wanted to listen—but I wasn’t quite ready to let go and let him handle our finances.

Things came to a head when my new boss wanted me to work double shifts December
23
and 24. Not only did he want me to work on Christmas Eve, it was also a Saturday and Sunday—and I was hired only to work Saturdays. When I told him I couldn’t, he didn’t agree. After all, he wasn’t the one who hired me, and he needed to do his job by scheduling enough staff. But for me, as I already had been wrestling with the idea of quitting, I knew this was God’s way of telling me the time had come. I could trust him. He had always met our needs. Everything had always been taken care of.

I spent time praying, journaling, and reading my devotions as I thought about my options. God was urging me to quit. Jon really wanted me to quit too, which was amazing. And now my boss was making it almost impossible for me not to quit. All this time I had asked God to make it very clear to me what to do, and now he had. I thought about the Israelites entering the Promised Land, and reminded myself that not trusting in God always prevents us from receiving his best.

Sometimes I need answers to be written in the sky in order for me to obey and trust God; but he seems to meet me where I am in
my trust in him—or lack thereof. I was still scared to give up my income, but had finally decided do so, since God made it very obvious I needed to.

So finally I heard the words, “I quit,” come out of my mouth. The next time I talked to my boss, I told him my last day would be December 9.

“Okay, I have you down for December 9 and 23,” he said, “and then I’ll take you off the schedule.”

“No,” I said, staying firm. “December 9 is my very last day.”

While I was worried and scared to be out of work, I knew God would always provide. I also felt thrilled to be doing what God wanted me to do. When I told Cara and Mady I wouldn’t be working anymore, Cara lunged toward me and held on for a while, hugging me very tightly as though I had just given her a toy she had been begging for. She confirmed it: I had definitely made the right decision.

Still, while paying bills later that week, I got nervous again, worried that maybe I didn’t do the right thing. But in my devotions that night, I read this: “To claim that prayer will always be answered in the very way and for the particular thing that we desire, is presumption. God is too wise to err, and too good to withhold any good thing from them that walk uprightly.”

With that in mind, I put my fears aside and decided firmly to continue to rely on the Lord for our needs. He would pull us through, I knew, because I was obeying him by staying home with my family. And I was thankful for the opportunity he had given me.

About a year later, Jon and I were invited to speak at a church in Mississippi. I worked closely Vanessa who had arranged the trip, and while I was there, she was sharing with me that she was pregnant with her third child and wanted to stay at home with her kids. I told her my story about how I struggled with the same dilemma.

Three months later it was so rewarding to receive this email from her:

Kate,

Thank you so much for sharing your story with me. I quit my job and am now a stay-at-home mom, and I couldn’t be happier. God has provided for all of our needs just like you said he would. Thanks again for encouraging me.

Vanessa

My kids are constantly teaching me about faith through their own wonder and amazement and acceptance. One night at the dinner table, Mady prayed for our meal: “Thank you, Jesus, for putting this food in our cabinets so Mommy could make us dinner.”

I was blown away at her choice of words and understanding, so I asked her where she came up with that prayer.

In an almost condescending tone, she said, “Well, Jesus
did
put it there!”

Of course. Silly me.

Another evening as I was preparing dinner in the kitchen, Joel walked in and announced, “Oh, Mommy! Look at the sky! How did it get like that?”

Looking at the sunset with its full display of oranges, blues, pinks, and purples, I responded, “Jesus painted it.”

“How?”

“Not with a paintbrush, but he made the sky and decorated it.”

“Oh!”

The next night brought another gorgeous sunset, and Joel once again walked in and looked out the window. “Look, Mommy. Jesus painted the sky again!”

In our busy stressful lives, we often don’t remember to look at sunsets. Our kids often have to point out the simple wonders of living. Since then, whenever I see a sunset like that, no matter where I’m at or who I’m with, I have to say out loud, “Oh look, Jesus painted the sky again.”

Jon and I had planned a trip to California for our first church speaking event in November, and as the date approached I began to feel nervous. Flying is not exactly my favorite thing to do. What if we crashed? I couldn’t bear the idea of not being around for the kids and not seeing them grow up. I spent some time praying that God would protect us the entire trip and reunite our family on Monday when we returned. Just saying things like, “I know you love us, Lord, and I know you are in control. I will trust you!” calmed my heart. Putting myself in God’s hands was the safest thing I could do.

It’s probably a good thing I learned to pray like this, because traveling unbeknownst to me at the time was going to become a big part of my life. Jon and I had two more speaking trips coming up in the beginning of 2007, and I kept on praying for our safety, and more. These were important trips, and I was thankful for the opportunity to show God’s love to the world. I prayed that we would glorify God in all that we said and did. I prayed for our children’s safety, and for them to be happy and feel safe and loved while we were away. I prayed that Jon and I would be able to relax and enjoy our trips so that when we returned we would be more loving and patient parents. I also prayed that Jon and I would reconnect and remember how much we love each other. “Thank you for this never-boring journey you have chosen to send us on,” I prayed. I still thank God for that.

My travels continued, and my prayers did too. I was learning to pray for so much more than myself. I asked God to let his love shine through me as I spoke at different events and venues, and to let me be an example of his love to all who met me.

Prayer and parenting seem to go hand in hand. God knows—and I tell him constantly—that I have always wanted us to be parents who serve him and who teach our children how to love him and each
other. I could not do that without prayer. “Lord, make me kind and loving and patient and caring,” I wrote in my journal. “Help my children to know that I love them and that everything I do is for them!”

Marriage is the same way: we can’t do it without prayer. Some days marriage was easy, but when life got stressful and the weight of the world seemed to fall on me, it was all I could do to cry out, “Lord, deliver me from myself and Jon from himself! Please help us to love each other and help me to keep my mouth shut, especially when I am tired and irritable!” I think I know now just how important those types of prayers were—and are, for every marriage.