My Magnum Opus

I snapped a few photos of the kids just inside our sliding glass door in May. I've done this same silly little thing for the past three years in a row -- a little profile picture (or this year -- front facing) of each kid that I then post alongside one small detail about them. Of course now I feel that I can't possibly do the same thing next May since Abe will be missing. It seems too sad. (Although . . . I suppose one could argue that I posted them just fine the two years before this one . . . with Starling missing. Ha. But it's a little different when you don't know they're missing!)

Abraham Michael. Age 18. Barely recognizable without a pencil behind his right ear. 

Daisy Sharon. Age 17. No one knows for certain how many times she's read Pride and Prejudice, but her current reading is being done out loud. With her younger sisters. 

Goldie Emma. Age 14. Would take popcorn or Pringles over brownies or ice cream any day of the week.

Penny Pearl. Age 11. Tasked with the job of feeding our chickens every morning. Doesn't really love it. 

(Note. She turned 12 shortly after posting this in May.)

Jesse Frank. Age 10. Keeps an old, giant, Costco diaper box full of broken parts and pieces from various computers, radios, printers, etc. that I am not allowed to throw away. Someday they will become a grand robot.

Anders Allred. Age 7. Occasionally nonchalantly mentions how many girls at school are in love with him. And we believe it.

Summer Maren. Age 4. Draws pictures to deliver to the neighbors all the live long day in secret hope that they will give her treats.

Mette Mary. Age 3. Currently insists I sing "Sleep My Child" to her every night before bed. (Often demanding I twice repeat the line "hill and dale in slumber sleeping" because she likes the word "slumber".)

Hans Hansen. Age 2. Fell in love with his sister's Elsa doll. Confiscated it for his very own. And ruined her hair. (Which had no adverse effect on his devotion.)

Starling Eliza. Age 7.5 weeks. Often she opens and shuts her mouth and moves her lips and cannot figure how one speaks. And then, magically, she does. And every time I think of that line from The Grinch: "He heard a small sound like the coo of  a dove".

(Note. Starling is now 10.5 weeks.)

And, just for kicks, I took one of myself this year. I would have added Mike too . . . had he been even slightly keen on the idea.

Nancy Allison. Age 42. Well shucks. I don't know. She birthed ten kids. That's somethin'.

And it is something, isn't it!? They are the main reason I was sent to earth in the place and time that I was. My mission. They -- these individual humans -- are the main things that I am aware of actually being tied to premortal promises that I made. In no other matter have I had heaven's direction so clearly. People think it's insane. They wonder about the logic. But what does any of that matter? What does anything matter for any of us really more than accomplishing what we came here to do? There are many roles God has given me. And many I hope He yet will. (And there are, sadly, many opportunities He has extended that I have failed to take advantage of.) But these kids? Bringing them here and helping each of them prepare to accomplish whatever they came here to do. That, it turns out, is the main thing I came here hoping to do. And because it truly is difficult and uncommon, I praise God all the more for somehow showing me this path that I had forgotten and that I many times tried to bow out of before I had finished my work. Ah. I sound like that little Charlotte spider again, don't I? Well, and what if I do? We both had the same great work -- the same "magnum opus" as she called it. Let life be complicated. Let it be overwhelming and inconvenient and sometimes grueling but for heaven's sake don't don't let it be all lived out without my claiming the joy associated with accomplishing the main work I came here to do. (Even if I, at times, do it rather poorly. Haha.)