I think I’m going to have no more than ten kids.
That’s a scary number. It’s enough to give one away as tithing. You could give three away for taxes, two to pay the grocery bill and the rest can go to house payments. Unless you have to pay tuition, then skip the taxes. You can fill two five seater sedans and still have to walk. Any more than that and you would have to take your shoes off to count them all.
Okay, why ten?
Well, two years ago I was given the gift of fatherhood. Sort of. I was called (although never set apart) to be a FHE group leader in my ward in Jerusalem. I was assigned a companion, a woman who I continue to admire more than I ought, and we started our family with a nice round eight children; two boys and six beautiful girls who followed their mother well. I had to let go when I was release four months later but I still get tinges of jealously when I watched those who were once my daughters dance with their real fathers as they are wedded off. Four of them are married now. One is on a mission, one is pregnant, one is on study abroad and in law school, one is in grad school. My adorable wife—associate FHE group leader–is on a mission.
Three of my Jerusalem Daughters, all are now happily married. I consider it a personal success.
Yeah, that was a fun calling. I had moved on. Well. Now I’m on another study abroad (who is the lucky kid who gets to do it twice?). This one is free because I get paid to be here. I’m also not abroad. Our group is thirteen. One professor, two TAs, and ten students. I drove to Oregon with the other TA who happens to be a friend of mine from years past in our twelve passenger BYU van. The professor spends his time trying to figure out how to fit 8 credit hours into a month of lecture which leaves most of the logistics of study abroad up to us two TAs. Every time we go to the tide pools we are rushing about finding boots for everyone and making sure no one is left behind. We pack the ten ducklings into the back of our huge van (the professor drives his own car) and cruse down the highway as they all chatter away about the strangest things and quote cartoons I’ve never heard of. My copilot assures me that once we fill them with ice cream they will fall asleep. I’m still not convinced.
We are not organized into FHE groups although I have planned FHE the last two weeks. With a small group like this and for only a month we attend the local ward and no one thought to give us any ecclesiastical assignments. This isn’t the holy land after all. Nevertheless one more I find myself paired with a capable adorable woman as we chase after ten busy young adult children. Once more I find myself scrambling for words as my “daughters” unleash their fears and sorrows in tearful form on the lap of their peer “father”. Once more I gently persuade and encourage, amuse and confuse, pray for and cry for a bunch of my peers who are roughly my own age. I feel placed in a position to protect them against the terrors and uncertainties of the strange new world in which we all find ourselves as well as the terrifying future that I know awaits them. And I will no longer be there to protect them.
The Oregon Family, Serious pose (mostly)
How easily I find myself slipping into that role. I must be wired deeply down. Protect the species. Protect the genes. But they aren’t my genes, why do I care? They have their own parents, real parents, to worry about them.
But oh how hard it is to let them scrape their knees.
Well, as you can see I am one who takes his assignments far too seriously. Beware lest I ever get assigned to teach Marriage Prep (again)…
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