In my Father's House

Tonight I was got an unexpected (but always welcome) call from my Amanda Kate. It is always good to see her name on my cell phone when it is ringing, and to hear her say "Hey Mama!" in that same cheerful and easy way she has. It got me started thinking about her, and all the wonderful times we had together. I actually had her on my mind a couple of weeks ago, after going to "Muffins with Mom" with Big C in his Kindergarten classroom. I remembered that long-legged little girl with the leopard-print hoodie who invited me to be her "mom" on such a special day, so many sequential years in elementary school. There is a framed photo of her behind my desk at work, and often people will ask me "who is this beautiful girl?" And sometimes I say "my first foster-child", other times I say "my oldest adopted daughter," and other times "my god-daughter." Truthfully, we never knew what to tell people when they asked. But I was drawn to her, as I have been with all my children. When people ask me, "How many kids do you have?" I never know what to say. I honestly feel like all of my "temporary kids", my two babies in Heaven, my step-children, and of course my three little ones who will officially be mine on June 25 in Superior Court, are "my children." But there are so many others who came into my life for brief or extended seasons, and who are now and forever part of my heart and will always have a special place in my home.

Maybe my journey to motherhood actually began in the fourth grade, as strange as that sounds. We mature, educated ten year-olds in Mrs. Evans classroom were recruited to serve as "book buddies" for a group of Kindergarteners. This would be my first experience of really, actually being "in charge" of a younger child, aside from my sister and cousins who I basically bossed around but were so close to my own age that it didn't really count. I remember the feeling of excitement that I would be matched with a beautiful, happy child who longed to learn how to read. I remember writing down words in the loose-leaf paper section of my Trapper-Keeper with the neon heart graphic on the front. Those were the words I would teach my little prodigy, and when she rose to the head of the Kindergarten Class, everyone would know that I was the best "book buddy" at Benefield Elementary School. And so the day to meet our "buddies" came, and I was as giddy as could be when I was introduced to a golden-haired little angel named "Farah", which was undoubtedly a popular name for girls in those days. My friend Kelly and I were actually put together to help Farah, because there was one too many students in our class, unless you count Richard, who was always in trouble and not allowed to be a "book buddy." But I was a teacher's pet, a good girl, so I wouldn't complain about being teamed up with Kelly, who couldn't spell to save her life, because at least I had the cutest little Kindergartener in the whole class. For two straight weeks, I tutored Farah and most likely Kelly at the same time. I brought in little fruit-shaped erasers for incentive, and loved the smile on my buddy's little face when she saw me in her classroom during reading time. The third week of "book buddies" was a time in my childhood that I will never forget. We came into the Kindergarten room with our books and prepared to meet with our buddies. The Kindergarten teacher took an unfamiliar, dirty-looking boy to my teacher, Mrs. Evans, who then lead the little stinker toward me, Kelly and Farah. "Melissa," Mrs. Evans said, knowing full well I would never deny her anything she asked of me, "This is Scotty. He is new to our school and needs a book buddy. How about if I let you be his book buddy, and Kelly can keep working with Farah?" I was horrified. But I would never say "no" to Mrs. Evans. Dutifully, I followed Mrs. Evans and "Scotty" to a corner where he scratched his ear with a crayon and stuck out his tongue at me throughout our lessons. Weeks passed where I would watch Kelly and Farah across the classroom, Kelly stumbling through Beatrix Potter while Farrah played with her pretty hair bows. At first it seemed so unfair, me clearly being the more suitable tutor for a smart girl like Farrah. I think I may have even tried to persuade Kelly to trade book buddies with me. It is unlikely any other fourth grader would have traded buddies to be matched up with Scotty. He was loud, whiny, stinky, and had no interest in reading. But weeks passed, and soon I discovered something. Scotty was funny. He made funny jokes about the books we read together, he used funny voices to read dialogue for characters, and he made funny faces that had me rolling with laughter. We started high-fiving and making our own little inside jokes. I began to love my little underdog, in the way that only a mother can love her little stinker. And when the school year was over, I gave Scotty a whole pack of fruity erasers. I knew that I would miss him.

It seems like many, many years have passed and my house is full (and has always been full) of kids like Scotty. They didn't have the advantages of a Farah, the perfect clothes and home, the nutritious lunches in high-fashion lunchboxes, or even the basics like good manners and reading skills. They came to me ragged and sloppy, and they still keep on coming.

One of our more recent "additions" is a girl I will call "Annie" - an adorable, bubbly little eight year-old girl who came to us through one of Georgia's babysitting jobs. She isn't here often, but when she is, she just fits right in, playing with all the other kids, entertaining Lizzie, and accompanying us on family trips. Without any planning or ceremony, she began to feel like "one of us." Georgia brought her to church, and she blossomed. She sang her heart out, participated in church dramas, hugged the pastors, and chased my little ones around in the fellowship hall. One Sunday, I took over as the Sunday School Teacher in the children's classroom. The Lectionary for the week used the scripture from John 14 where Jesus tells His disciples "In my Father's House there are many, many rooms . . . I go there to prepare a place for you." While preparing my lesson, I remembered the old song by Rich Mullins and decided to play it for the kids. I played the songs and they loved it, begging me to play it over and over. We listened to it maybe five or six times while we all drew pictures of our "dream house" on construction paper I had cut out into shapes of simple A-frame houses. I had placed markers, stickers, fun foam and other supplies on the table. I told the kids they could decorate the house however they wanted - and I told them that Jesus promised us a home in Heaven - a Perfect Home. At the time, it didn't strike me as odd that I was teaching a room full of children from imperfect homes about a perfect home - kids who had faced divorce, loss, addictions, domestic violence, eviction, and all sorts of dysfunction - inside their homes. It didn't occur to me as we drew elaborate staircases, windows, archways, fountains, and other beautiful architecture on the paper houses. I took a long sheet of butcher paper and spread it out across the wall in the hallway, writing the words from John 14. I told the kids to put their "houses" on the mural of Heaven. We added them one at a time, along with people figures, animals, stars, hearts, clouds, angels, music notes, rainbows, and other happy designs. After hanging up several houses, I noticed Annie had not given me hers. I went back into the room and found her diligently working on her "perfect home," with staircases, and lots of rooms. Georgia sat nearby watching over Annie's shoulder. "Wow!" I exclaimed, "you are really putting a lot of time into your Perfect Home!" Georgia cupped her hand around her mouth and drew me close to her to whisper, "she's drawing our house." My breath caught in my throat when I realized what this little girl had seen in our home. Our crazy, loud, messy, unorganized, cluttered, dog-hair-covered, sticky food-encrusted, crowded house full of people was her perfect home.

This world is just never going to be perfect. There are so many hurting kids, like a little girl in Big C's class who never had her mom or dad show up for anything this entire school year - not Muffins with Mom, Donuts with Dad, or any of the field trips or special events. At the Kindergarten Graduation Ceremony last week I didn't cry because my six year old is going to first grade, I cried because this little girl was laying on the rug sobbing when no one showed up for her. She was the only one without a parent or grandparent there to congratulate her. God knows if I could have gotten down on the rug with her, and gathered her into my arms I would have told her "You are wonderful and valuable, and loved. You might not have a happy home in this world, but you have a perfect home waiting for you in Heaven." And isn't that what we all want? We all want a happy, warm, safe place where we can all go and be "home."

My kids and I now sing this song at bedtime every night: 

"In my Father's house there are many, many rooms
In my Father's house there are many, many rooms
And I'm going up there now to prepare a place for you
That where I am, there you may also be

If I go prepare a place for you, I will come back again
If I go prepare a place for you, I will come back again
And you know I am the Way, the Truth, the Life, keep my command
That where I am, there you may also be

That where I am, there you may also be
Up where the truth, the truth will set you free
In the world you will have trouble, but I leave you my peace
That where I am, there you may also be

Remember you did not choose me, no I have chosen you
Remember you did not choose me, no I have chosen you
The world will show you hatred, the Spirit show you truth
That where I am, there you may also be

And I've come down from the Father, it's time for me to go back up
Oh, I've come down from the Father, it's time for me to go back up
One command I leave you: Love as I have loved
That where I am, there you may also be

That where I am, there you may also be
Up where the truth, the truth will set you free
In the world you will have trouble, but I leave you my peace
That where I am, there you may also be

That where I am, there you may also be
Up where the truth, the truth will set you free
In the world you will have trouble, but I'm leaving you my peace
That where I am, there you may also be"