Me: [rushing into the bedroom] Matt, we have a serious problem! Did you know Parker doesn’t think the bible is true?
Matt: What are you talking about?
Me: I was reading devotions with Parker and at the end he said, That’s not true, B.Β When I asked him what he meant he said that Jesus and miracles and coming back from the dead wasn’t true. He said that it’s like Santa and the Toothfairy?! They aren’t real.
Ryen: [Hiding behind closet door] WHAT?! The Tooth Fairy isn’t REAL?!
Me: Oh, Ryry I didn’t know you were there! Well, uh—you see… well, I… why don’t you go play with Parker?

This comedy happens in the Olthoff house on a daily basis. Before the sun sets, I’m mentally making a list of how I pail in comparison to real moms. You know real moms! They’re the ones who plan out their kids outfits for the week, pack lunches with organic juice boxes and crust-free sandwiches the night before school, and make cookies on a whim.Β 

I—on the other hand—stumble as if walking in a darkened room to stay organized. And if I’m being completely honest with you, I’m not as domestic as I thought. Matt forbids me from doing laundry [because of one wee accident with his soccer jerseys and one of my red towels… who knew?] and after my dish washing prowess failed me last month, I’m officially banned from dishes as well.

But let’s get one thing straight: God has given me two kids to rear and raise up who though biologically I didn’t create, I have the luxury of pouring into their lives. We play games instead of doing chores, I make them eat fancy food even when they complain they’d rather eat Kraft Mac-n-Cheese, and more often than I’d like to admit, I rally the two baby Olthoffs to side with me when Matt tries to make us doing boring things like, oh I don’t know, take showers or something totally unnecessary.

Above anything else, I take their spiritual development very seriously. We pray together when they don’t want to, I’ll sit in Sunday school with them if they need emotional support, and I speak life over their lives even in situations I cannot control. When prayer is annoying, when truth hurts, when God is perceived as nothing more than the Easter Bunny, I mother and shepherd Ryen and Parker as if I spawned these two children in my womb.

After chatting with Parker about the sovereign, almighty power of God from a theological understanding for an 8 year-old, I promised to take my stepson to Israel. Yes, people, I’m taking my little skeptic to ISRAEL. I told him that we would do an investigation of the life of Christ to apologetically believe in the risen Christ. I don’t mess around, y’all. For his 16th birthday we will visit the empty tomb of Christ, walk the Via de la Rosa, and celebrate at the Wailing Wall because God is alive and real.

Parker: Papa, B said we are going to Israel when I’m sixteen!
Ryen: [from behind her door] I want to go too!
Matt: B, what are you getting us into?
Me: SALVATION! That’s what we’re getting into to!

If I have preached to the nations, but failed in sharing Jesus with my own son, I am nothing. If I build the church, but fail in building my house, I am nothing. If salvation is preached to masses, but I fail in taking the message to the masses into our domestic messes, I am nothing.

I’m kind of like a parent. I’m kind of like a mom. But I’m wholly committed and qualified to be the maternal spiritual steward for Parker and Ryen Olthoff. This journey is one I don’t take lightly and will seek wisdom from those who have gone before me… not just for my stepchildren, but for the next generation.

Suggestions welcomed. πŸ˜‰

Love,
The Tooth Fairy

Pin It on Pinterest