Wild chases

I turned 32 about a month ago. I am now Jesus' age when he was walking around, healing the sick, changing the story of the world. I still can't decide how I feel about being 32 (not that I can change my age). I'm still breaking it in, so to speak, like a new pair of shoes.

Some days, I miss my 20s. Ah, the possibilities! The dreams! The thrilling chases! New jobs, new opportunities, new cities.

I miss my 20s, that is, until I remember the hungry days as a grad student juggling a few jobs. All I was chasing then was a warm and quiet place to study. It was so cold in my apartment that I could actually see my breath. And the apartment was mold-infested. And sewage flowed into my bathtub.

Yeah. That would cure anyone of any romantic delusions of my 20s.

These days, I am mostly chasing souls, boy-shaped souls that are running (and crawling) around on fast little feet. It's a very different kind of chase. For one, the stakes are much higher. As opposed to my previous dreams (that are now obsolete), these boys are eternal. They will live on forever. At the beginning of every morning and the end of every night, the question that I am to answer is this: What am I teaching my children to love?

Many ask us why we choose to homeschool our children. There are many different ways we would approach this question, but this sums it up nicely: Homeschooling is the method Hans and I have chosen to pursue our children, to win their hearts to love the right things. Like all methods, we want to hold this one loosely. We know that ultimately, we cannot move their hearts — only the Spirit can. Our job is to faithfully sing the tune, in hopes that the boys would sing along.

(In case you want to know how it is going, I am huffing and puffing from the steep climb up the learning curve. Thankfully, the boys are kind to forgive their mommy every time she apologizes for her unruly behavior.)

The boys and I are memorizing first Corinthians 13 this week.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind.

These are good words to cling to as I break into 32. A familiar passage, but this week I read the apostle's words with an ache, a longing to understand, to be. It was then I realized that I, too, am being pursued. My Father chases me still.

I write this with thoughts and prayers for those of you who are in your teens and twenties, in hot pursuit of your dream school, dream career, or perhaps you are, like I was, just planning to survive the exams and stay warm this winter. The thing is, I didn't have to wait until I am married and birthing kids to be chasing souls. Love should be our pursuit no matter how old we are.

Do not be deceived as I was and make your life about "finding yourself" and "finding your voice." Lies. You will find your life's purpose by giving yourself to others. Jesus said, "Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever who loses his life for my sake will find it." Finders losers; losers keepers.

So, pour yourselves out as an offering to the Lord, into vessels that lasts forever — people, people, people.

We are teaching Emeth to pursue love. We are teaching Hanan to pursue love. And Khesed, well, he is still a baby, but his name means love. Speaking of love and wild chases, Emeth was fetching all sorts of things the baby was throwing from the high chair at dinner today. The big brother then explained to me: "We are playing Khesed's favorite game. He is human and I am his dog."

Their love for one another is God's kind mercy to me. Like a warm cup to cold hands. Like water to thirst. Their love for one another is the stuff my dreams are made of.