When The Saints Go Marching In

     A Monday night in March, in downtown Annapolis, is not what you would call a bustling hive of activity.  A few shopkeepers walk past windows and several adolescents scoop ice cream or pour coffee, while boats rock quietly back and forth in the tiny harbor.  The buildings are quiet and the people are too. But this past Monday, I took part in attempting to wake up these sleepy Annapolitan streets. 

     My two oldest children and I walked briskly into the parking lot of St. Mary’s Catholic Church to join a growing crowd of Marylanders.  Sights, sounds, and colors all converging for one purpose, to march.  I did not know most of these people, yet I felt as if I had come to a big family reunion.  Grandmothers, Grandfathers, Aunts, Uncles, Mothers, Fathers, Cousins, Daughters and Sons. 

     Monday, March 11^th is six days after my fifth child, Elias’ birthday, and two days before the twins’ birthdays, Liam and Winston, who are my third and fourth children.  It is the week when our family remembers the birth of our three youngest sons.  To retell all of the miraculous moments surrounding their birth would take many pages and many hours. They were meant to be here.  They were meant to live.

     I could also fill up pages of comments and thoughts from others telling me that I was not wise in wanting more children.  Oh, if I had listened to their voices…  I am so thankful for Truth, Truth that speaks louder and clearer. 

     And so, I came to walk and to pray, to march in awe of what God has done in me and in my family.  He is the Author of life, and life more abundantly. He does not need me to speak for Him, and so I stopped my mouth from speaking. I fasted from speaking and turned all of my thoughts to prayer.  I had a fleeting sense, a sense of calm before a storm. The storms that surround battle, the storms of war.

     One of the last things I said to my son before I put the duct tape across my lips was of war.  “It’s not quite like going out to battle but its close.  Can you feel it?”   And he stood quiet.  He was sensing something as well.

     The people who had poured out of the chapel moments ago, crossing themselves, praying, picked up signs and buttoned up coats.  They found their places in the lines that formed behind the banners.  They had received a blessing and were emboldened to stand, to march.  There were no orders given.  There was no need.   They all knew why they had come, and all grew quiet as the trumpet blew.

     It is as old as battle its self, the trumpet sound.  And at the last blast, the drums began.  Step, step, stride, stride.  It was solemn and quiet. 

      Some greeted us along the way with supportive signs.  Others smiled and honked their horns.  But it was very quiet.  The weight of death was on our minds.  The loss of one soul meant to live is unspeakable, and often, unnecessary. 

     Tonight we blew out twelve candles, six for each of our sons.  We laughed and prayed, remembering how neither of them was supposed to be blowing out even one candle.  Just as their lives have defied the odds, they have emboldened our own.

      I have always said that when the twins were born, my pride went out the window.  With doubling the joy, came doubling the humility.  Every day became an adventure.  Much of my preconceived ideas of mothering and family life changed.

      When Elias arrived, we just threw him in the mix.  We call him our mascot. He is our lively little ambassador.  Our last three children were the result of new marching orders.  We decided to step out of the way and give ourselves to raising and nurturing all that God would give us. 

      I would like to say that we took those marching orders to heart, without any doubts.  But, I can tell you that there have been many days that I have wanted to step out of God’s plan for our family.  But now, more than six years later, I have the benefit of looking back.  And although the terrain has been rocky and dark at times, I can truly say that God has been more than good.  He has been so very good. 

~Your Fellow Sojourner

Our little birthday celebration.