It was raining the other day. Pouring cats and dogs and I could hear yelling - no, sounded more like wild Indians about to attack our home - and feet running across the deck. I would hear an occasional thud against the brick and I know that sound. . . mud balls. The missed ones. The ones that were aimed at a brother, but missed. Laughter, the thrill of the chase.

It goes from laughter to anger (the kind you feel if you get plastered with mud in your face) and then back to laughter again.

That type of thing. The type of thing that makes laundry have a new meaning. . . means something like, oh I don't know, something worse than laundry. Thinking of bad word here, kind of sort of.

I looked out later when there was a lull in the noise. As if rain was not enough, the hose was on.

Realize that this is at the house that got a phone call from the water company saying there was too much water use going on. For the size of the lot, for the size of the home, how in the world could we be using SO MUCH WATER?

The water company doesn't know it but they should be super glad my husband answered that call and not me. I would have had an explanation. I would have invited them over to show them WHY. I would have asked for a huge discount on water. 

When Robert told me of the phone call, I felt guilty, like we were drying up the oceans and going to be the main reason global warming was going to overcome our area and our community would die of thirst because WE had used up all the water.

Yes, I understand the water peoples concern. Little lot, little home. . .

But what they don't know is that there are ten people that live here. They still don't know that. Unless they read my blog.

Ten people shower. . . sometimes they have to shower twice a day, sometimes three. Depending on what boy does what and what toddler poops where and when. Ten people eating which means dishes and tons of them, even though I do go for the paper plate idea quite regularly. Ten peoples laundry. And that's where I think we are clearing out the oceans and rivers. The laundry.

Because this is a boys' world.

The plain truth is that our washer and dryer go through the day and through the night. I know all of the problem solvers reading my blog just now want to message me all the amazing techniques to not having to wash so much. How not to waste.

Maybe like don't play sports.

Don't let your boys wear winter jackets in the rain hosing each other down and killing each other with mud balls.

Don't go to the river and hike so much, just plain don't do things that cause dirty people and clothing.

Don't give your baby food without a bib on.

Make your kids wear the same thing every day, or at least twice in a row.

(That is gross now. My husband and four boys. . . ahum, and even girls, cannot possibly do that. They just get that dirty. We would have to become even less social than we are.)

etc.etc.etc.

So where was I. . . right, yes, I've just finished scrubbing white football pants with bleach. Scrubber in hand, bleach jug in the other, hot water.

WHITE FOOTBALL PANTS?! Who in the world thinks of such an idiotic idea?! Three this year have teams who wear WHITE FOOTBALL PANTS.

Seriously. 

And so yes, they do wear those babies more than one time before a wash.

Shelton's got so dirty in practice at school that somehow they got stuffed in a laundry bin in the school laundry room of like the "uncleanables." Shelton couldn't find his pants for the world. He took Bub's to school for practice. Yes, somehow he thought his brother of 5 years younger wouldn't mind and somehow he could squeeze in those pants. Talk about immodest.

And he managed to squeeze in them . . . taking some of the pads out of them, unknown to me of course. I pick him up the other day from school. He sits in the front seat of the car, holding his rear in pain. "What's up with that?" I say. "Football practice," he says. I say, "What happened?" and he says, "No pads for my butt." I say, "What? What happened to your pads?"

Then I get the scoop. But still he can't find his pants. I marched into the school yesterday afternoon and went straight to the boys locker room. I sent Shelton in on a mission and I said if he couldn't find them I was going in. 

In the mean time I snooped around the school laundry room. I spotted a bin behind a few others and there I spotted what I knew were my sons pants. The insignia was bleached out from black to pink. That would be my laundry job for sure. And they were the dirtiest pair of football pants I'd ever seen.

I marched proudly out of that laundry room to the boys locker room and yelled in about my find. 

And because I live in a boys' world, Shelton peeks his head out and says, "Ah mom? My cleats have gone missing. . ."

When I first started taking these pictures of the boys, I thought I was just taking Shelton and Bub. Then Christian comes

flying out of the swimming pool. He had been lying down in the bottom holding his breath!

Back in August before Christian's real season began, they had this all evening scrimmage practice for all the teams. I've never been

to anything quite like it. It was like marathon football. Christian played and played and played, way past dark. He said he could eat a cow after it was over.

(Christian with the tackle.)

Christian on the run. . .

Christian has a wonderful ability to break tackles. I do believe it comes with the territory of being a third born under 

two big brothers. Since he could walk at nine months he is just use to running for his life. The kid has wheels.

And can catch just about any ball at any time.

I don't get many chances to get Scott in action since he plays for school now. I hope to get more shots at some games this season.

Scott is known for literally growling on the football field.

Yes, I even heard him from the sidelines last weekend. He plays a mean strong safety. 

First game of the season his team won 44 to 12. Scott played awesome.

Shelton, below pictures, yes, in his tighty-whities. I'm not sure who's pants he has on this scrimmage.

He is always easy for me to spot though - only kid who wears a blue receiver's glove, and 

he has switched out his regular cleat laces for navy blue ones. Football with a little fashion, that's Shelton.

His first game of the season I was at Scott's away game, but Robert said he played great and their team 

pulled out a first game win as well.

Then there is Bub. . . where to even start. 

Bub is an awesome kid. Love his heart. Love him. Just simply a wonderful little guy.

I wasn't really into putting him in football this fall, but he wanted to. I thought maybe it was just

because his brothers do it. His personality just didn't seem like the football type. I didn't want him to feel

like he had to do something that wasn't him. I would question him, carefully, trying to hear his heart.

He insisted, in few words, that he really wanted to play.

And so for the first two weeks I sat there through his practices going, "This just doesn't seem like him."

I wondered if we'd made the right decision to let him decide for himself. I wondered if him being so much

smaller than everyone else was going to do damage. I worried, just a little. Or maybe more than a little.

But if there is one thing I have learned about Bub in his first seven years of life? Don't under estimate the kid.

In fact, maybe don't ever under estimate a kid who is a fourth born boy, period. They are made of things you just don't understand.

They have lived life in a way, others just won't, can't. They hold strengths that only fourth born boys can hold.

So it has been with Bub and football.

He got put on the defensive line. Really?? Okay, well, I've had my years of football experience and that just seemed wrong to me. Smallest, youngest kid on the team and put on the beat up line?

I watched practice after practice as he bear crawled into the offensive line boys twice his size, just to get sat on 'til the play was over.

After each practice I wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't complaining one single bit, but you have to know Bub. . . he doesn't complain, one single bit about anything ever. He rolls with the punches. I can remember when his cousin, each and every single time we saw him, would just tackle him and sit on him. Bub would let him. Calm, cool, and collected it was like he just knew his place was "at the bottom." He would never, ever hit anyone. Ever.

This troubled me. I tried to show him, to tell him, that he didn't have to just let people run over him. To stand up for himself. To throw the punch back if need be. Yeah, not sure you can find that in any parenting book, but I could see that being dominated and under three extroverted, stronger, bigger older brothers his whole life, that his personality had just decided to accept the position of "bottom."

He didn't seem unhappy about it, just accepting. Like it was just nothing to him.

So for weeks of practice through the hot summer I watched him. Over and over, on the bottom of the pile. I'm not one of those mamas who has to have her sons be running back or some "position" - It was obvious Bub was not fastest, biggest, or experienced. I'm for winning teams, not personal glory. But my heart didn't like seeing him be where I've seen him all too often before in life. Being sat on, and being fine with it.

I did something I've never asked any of my boys because I don't believe in ever quitting. "Bub, you want to keep playing?"

"Yes."

"I'm okay if you want to try something else. . ." I wasn't sure I was saying the right thing. I'd never given my other boys options of quitting.

"I'm not quitting, Mom."

I hoped I hadn't offended him by giving him the option. I just couldn't tell if we'd done the right thing to let him play.

I glanced back through the rear view mirror and there he was, helmet still on and dirty all over him from being run over all practice long.

That evening I had watched my little boy go from coach to coach after practice on his own accord and thank each and every coach for coaching him. I watched how every single other player took that hot and uncomfortable helmet off as soon as practice was over and how Bub left his on. Sometimes even until we arrived home. 

I kept taking him back to practice several times a week all summer long. End of August I began to see something. . . I saw my little defensive line man bear crawling through the offensive line, fighting with everything in him to recover fumbles, and even occasionally tackle the QB.

I cannot really put into words the growth I've seen in Bub through this football experience for him. He has come into himself. He has become more confident. He has taken on more responsibility here at home, all on his own. He has proven to me, without me even asking him to, that he doesn't quit. 

We pray together before getting out of the car each practice. I pray about life, about God making him a man of God and learning through every experience what it means to never give up in the spiritual battle. It's quick sometimes, a flare prayer usually. If I forget Bub will say, "Mom, pray please." I am seeing God at work in his life through all this. All his brothers, Robert -- we all say under our breath, "Can you believe the change in Bub since he started football?" 

His team has won their first three games. Bub plays a lot of the game, always defensive line. He has recovered fumbles, crawling straight through the offensive line, going for the prize.

First game of the season - as I sat there in the stands seeing a big mound of little football players, knowing my Bub was at the bottom. . .

I wanted to jump to my feet, wondered if he would be okay. He is after all my "baby boy." He is after all the "little guy" out there.

The coaches start pulling the players off one by one and then, there was Bub, football hugged as tight as possible to his chest. He had taken the ball from the offense and waited until the mound could be pulled off of him. The coaches got to the bottom of the pile and his coach lifted Bub off the ground way into the air, Bub still hugging the ball, to show the ref our team did indeed get the ball from the offense. I wish I had a picture of him being held up in the air like that in the middle of the game. . .

But I was on my feet clapping too hard to think about a camera!

My Bub. With the prize. He might be the sweetest, kindest, quietest little guy around, but don't let that fool you.

He is not a quitter. He is a gentle giant in his heart and I am super proud of him.

Here is Bub in the picture below at practice one evening - he's the guy on the bottom of the pile with arms grabbing the ball from the offense.

Love these next two shots of Christian's team - one evening after a rain, working out.

Bub gearing up for practice. . .

Bub at practice warming up. . . did I mention he has giant 7-8 year olds on his team?

Bub - warm-ups.

~

Speaking of the boys this post. . .

Shelton (and Scott) have had some great opportunities given them to sing and play music.

They had their first little public invite a few weeks ago to play at a local frozen yogurt's grand opening. And got paid. They loved that experience.

Shelton is enjoying helping lead worship at school on Friday mornings for Fellowship of Christian Athletes. He and Scott are so excited with what God is doing and the turn out this past week was larger than they could ever remember having. Scott said, "Mom, kids were singing and worshipping before school together and it was so awesome!" We continue to pray as a family that God will use them as light, to pour God's love out to those around them.

Shelton and Christian are both enjoying choir at school. 

Here are a few pictures Shelton asked me to take last month (before he cut all his hair off for football!) for a school project/movie he did for an assignment on his passion for music. . .

Realistically speaking, if I were to show pictures of what the older three boys do most these days it would be them sitting here at the table doing homework. I am getting my share of re-doing 5th, 7th, and 8th grade math and science each and every evening after supper.

I ask God to show me ways into their hearts. I know one way is through food  and I've been blessed to be so close to their schools and take them a special lunch a few times a week. I leave notes and quotes around for them and verses and messages in their lunch bags each day. Sometimes I wonder if it really makes that big of a different. I wonder if anything gets through or if God is at work. . .

Then God will show me. I didn't realize until last week that Shelton had been taking the messages I was writing and was using them as notes for his Bible study group of guys he meets with at lunch at school. One day he came in and in passing out of the blue said, "Mom, keep sending the notes. I have been using them in my Bible study and it doesn't just encourage me but the other guys too. . ."

One of the quotes I tweeked a bit and hung on their wall this past week:

It will hurt. It will take time. It will require dedication. It will take prayer. It will require will power. You will need to make healthy decisions. . . and it will take sacrifice. You will need to push your body to the max. There will be temptation. But I promise, when you reach your goal, It's worth it.

There really are ways to "walk with them" and "teach them" and "lead them to Christ" even when we can't always be there with them.

I want to be like Bub on the defensive line. I'm not quitting. God, help me to keep plunging myself through what seems way too big for me, going for the prize. A lot of days I feel sat on, on the bottom of the {laundry} pile, the giants around me holding me back. I see in my mind Bub getting up, shaking off the dirt and lining back up again on the line to go at it again.

Not everytime does he make it through. Nor do everyday I win the battle. 

I know I have other options. But I'm not taking them.

Thanks, Bub, for teaching mommy something I needed to remember all over again.

"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." Gal. 6:9

"Therefore, my beloved {sisters}, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain." 1 Cor. 15

 ~

And here's a big shout out to ONE YEAR today since her forever long pregnancy ended and HER LIFE began here in front of us to love and enjoy!

Alyssa

(all words and pictures are copyright to resolved2worship. Please do not use without permission.)