a kid-friendly culture

I met a pastor in a poor area here recently who grew up as a street kid himself. He now has 7 kids. When I heard this and reacted with a surprised look, he looked me straight in the face and said, “I really believe what the bible says about children being a blessing from the Lord.” Wow. I was caught off guard. Do I believe it too? I love my kids. But sometimes I see them as far less than a blessing. Especially when I want my freedom to go and do as I please. That’s hardly an easy thing to do when you have four little ones tagging along behind you. Not just personal freedom either, but I sometimes also think they hinder my ministry to others. In the States my negative feelings about my kids is often reinforced or encouraged. It’s rare that people are excited for me when I tell them how many kids I have. Often I receive a comment about what a lot of work that must be, or some kind of sympathy. None of that here. And no one is annoyed when my baby cries during a worship service, or when my two year-old jumps off the stack of chairs in the church building, or when my three year old has diarrhea on herself in a slum where there is no running water or when my five year old won’t say hello to them because she is just too shy and overwhelmed. Instead, strangers are inviting all my children into their homes, giving them treats when I’m not sure they even have enough for themselves and they’re not demanding anything of their behavior but rather commenting only on the joy and blessing they are to be around. They smile a lot. My kids are the same kids that were in the States. What’s happened? A couple days ago I lost my kids. Not the baby, but the three older ones. I knew they hadn’t gone outside the gate, but I couldn’t find them for a moment. I peeked in next-door and there they were. Isaiah and Miya were sitting down to 2 huge bowls of spaghetti, Ana was playing a game on their computer and there were 6 other kids in their tiny apartment too (only 2 of which belonged there). It was chaos. There were kids jumping on the couches, the TV was on, some were eating, some were yelling. Did I mention that one of the women who lives there is 9 months pregnant? Everyone was smiling and happy…except for me. I was so embarrassed. Why were they feeding my kids? Why did they allow these kids to wreck their house? It was such a contrast to my own experiences in dealing with kids. Especially kids that don’t belong to me. At home I would never let so many kids in my house that didn’t live there. And just a few minutes later my feelings were actualized. It was dinner time. We called all our kids in and sent the neighborhood kids home. We were tired of entertaining them. Tired of watching them. Just tired of them. So home they went so our kids could eat. What a contrasting cultures.