“Who’s food is THAT?!”

I cry out exasperated as I am eyeballing a plate literally caving under the weight of the food I just prepared. “I dunno” My third eldest offers. “Well that’s helpful…” I turn toward the pot of food to get my 4^th eldest some dinner and shriek, “C’mon guys!” I yell out, “Other people in this house have to eat… Guiltily, they and their friends begin scraping off some of their plates back into the pot so my little ones can eat tonight. I excuse myself after making sure that everyone indeed has food and come upstairs to my bedroom, lock the door and sit down feeling defeated. 4lbs of meat, 3 boxes of prepared dinner with extra pasta added to fill an 8 quart cast iron dutch oven, gone in 30 seconds, and had I not intervened, I’d be making a second dinner tonight.

I like being the safe house in the neighborhood, and I actually love cooking for others. We have friends stay over all the time and it feels good knowing that in some way we are shining for Jesus to these young people. Many end up attending church with us, and their parents seem grateful that there is a family in town that they can trust. We have found out often after the fact, that in many cases, our home-cooked meals are the only ones some of these kids have seen in a long time… often we have found out that they experienced family in a whole new way with us that has blessed them. Many times, in our home, it is the first time they are acquainted with real discipline and consequences… we have always felt that this kind of open-house life is part of what God has called us to, and the positives far outweigh any of the negatives.

So, I usually don’t mind that my house is full of my five sons and all their friends. It isn’t uncommon for us to have up to nine guests or more at one time, and as you can imagine, the activity can literally leave me reeling.

If I am not careful though, in cases like tonight, I get drained very quickly and I lose sight of all the good. I start thinking about myself, and how I would love a break. I start thinking about how ungrateful all these kids are for my efforts. I start thinking about how expensive this is and I feel like we will never be able to keep up with the growing grocery bill. Add that to the fact that I am the only girl in this home and you can see why I might want to lose it once in a while. There have been many nights of falling asleep dreaming about tea parties and dainty little cucumber sandwiches, pink nail polish and sparkly lip gloss. I would love to make a salad for dinner, with a pretty tablecloth and goblets of lemon-herb water… but not in this house. We have boys… loud, rambunctious boys that have forced me to resort to mason jars as glasses because my sanity cannot afford to let me watch one more pretty glass get broken.

Oh I love them, don’t get me wrong. Boys are amazing. They have courage, are strong, fun and creative. It is never boring in our house and nothing beats a smile, hug and kiss from your little man. As teenagers, you begin to see the kind of man they will be and they make you want to be the best mother you can be and best wife you can be because you want them to choose good wives and mothers for themselves. Boys, at least mine,  give you the pleasure of caring for them… girls have to learn to care for others, but boys, even as men, will let you care for them. For me, this is a true pleasure, I know I am needed.

So tonight, as I hide in my room and contemplate the condition that the house will be in once I re-emerge; I am searching for comfort and encouragement. I am waiting on God to tell me that I am going to be okay as the only girl for now in the midst of men. When testosterone and estrogen clash in my home, I lose, hands down.

Or do I? In a pasture of sage brush and tumbleweeds, a rose is a rose- she stands out, smells good and is a striking contrast. You notice her immediately and you don’t want to crush her beauty… I’ve seen others run through a field and hike on a trail, but when they come to a wild rose, they take a second glance and take great care to make sure they don’t plow through the rosebush. Now this musing isn’t going to dwell on the fact that if you were to plow through a rosebush, it might not be a pleasant experience due to the thorns… that is perhaps for another musing! Regardless, most people have a certain respect for the rose, and lately that is the picture I keep getting about a woman in the midst of the opposite sex. Unless you have been there, you may not know what I am talking about, but the next time you get the opportunity, observe a group of men before and after a good woman walks into a room. It is eye-opening.

There is a bible verse in Isaiah 35: 1 that causes me to see something else about the rose. “The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.”

As a mom of five boys, I can tell you in all honesty that I have days, which while grateful for my quiver full, this home at times feels like a wilderness, a solitary place, a DESERT as the only female!  Appetite isn’t the only thing that separates the sexes – talk of body parts and functions are common here, as are dirty socks with a smell that match, action movies and their figurines are EVERYWHERE to be seen, broken things and boo-boos – so much so that a first aid kit is available for both human and non-human needs, in fact, the only “girly” things that exist in this house are located in my bedroom and bathroom, save a special tea cup just for mom! It is hilarious to watch my futile efforts at “sprucing up” the place, and you’d think that after so many years I wouldn’t even bother, but here’s the thing: even a rose finds a way to bloom in the desert. I am determined that no matter how many boys the good Lord decides to bless me with, I will remain a woman in the midst of men just like a delicate rose remains a rose despite its surroundings. How many boys today are seeing REAL women, and real “roses” of God? I have seen so many women adapt themselves to households of men, workplaces that were primarily men, etc… and in the process, womanhood gets lost. I don’t want that to happen to me, womanhood is to be treasured, cared for and celebrated, just like the beautiful rose.

In the midst of men, a real woman is a rose:  sweet, beautiful and fragrant.

Lord, as I rise daily to greet the ‘men’ in my life,  help me to remember that.