So the Prodigal Son & Kool and the Gang walked into a bounce house...

Go Big or Go Home.

This is pretty much the Phillips family motto.  Of course, there are many things that I do half-assed hearted:   housework, winter leg shaving, cooking.  Just last night I fed my family bowls of Franken Berry cereal.  Once Gracie goes completely off the jar, she's in for some disappointment.  No more Chicken with Cranberry Compote or Butternut Squash Corn Chowder for her.  But when it comes to the important things--loving others, being with our friends, worshipping God, embarrassing ourselves in public, seeing how many M&Ms we can shove into our mouth and still talk--we approach things with our whole ass heart.  I've learned that it really is the only way to go.

And it is in this manner I have approached Gracie's first birthday.

Yes, to the outsider, it is absolutely ridiculous to get a bounce house, hire a photographer and face painters, borrow every card table and folding chair from anyone who'll listen, borrow a bubble machine, prepare a dress like a clown photo booth and craft, bring in North Carolina (Stamey's) BBQ, and do it all with a circus-y flair for 70 or so guests.  (Start praying for sunny weather NOW!) 

I concede that it is a bit much for a one year old's birthday party.  But you see, that is not all we are celebrating.  Yes, we're celebrating the finalization of her adoption.  And her general chubby awesomeness.  Mainly, I want to shout out my barbaric yawp to the entire world of how GREAT God has been to us through Gracie. 

He's changed us.  Not just the number of kids in our family.  Not just the way we view race relations.  Not just the way we care for orphans at large.  But our entire selves.  Our trusting of God through the adoption of Gracie changed my marriage.  As I was fearful when we first heard of Gracie's health issues, Sloan was steadfast and strong.  I learned that I could trust him to lead us.  I began to repent of being such a controlling shrew.  I loosened my grip of those things I once held dear to be my security and began to hold Sloan's hand while we gripped onto God. 

It's changed the way I parent.  I used to be really concerned with being known by others.  By women at church.  By you people on the blogosphere.  And don't get me wrong, it's still pretty cool.  But I've felt a shift away from that.  A movement in my heart towards serving God by serving my kids.  Now don't go getting your feminist feathers all aflutter.  What I mean is that I've begun asking myself  "to what end am I doing this?"  And every time the answer has been one of the following--"because I feel like I need to", or "if I don't do it, who else will?" or my personal favorite, "I have a degree from a seminary so I really oughtta..."--I've dumped it.  Because I'm pretty certain that God has other options for getting things done than me.  And God has replaced the weariness that comes from doing the right things for the wrong reasons with a joy for doing the teeny tiny simple right things right before me--namely loving and pursuing the hearts of Henry and Grace.  I spend most afternoons playing trains, dancing to Motown, reading, or playing outside with two of the funniest, kindest, and compassionate kids on the planet.  And I have never experienced more joy or fulfillment doing anything else in all my life.  On a regular basis I say to myself, "Is this really happening?  Am I really getting to be here for all of this bliss?"

Just this afternoon, Henry accidentally kicked Gracie in the face.  (It's a hazard when you have 2 kids in a pack n play filled up with balls and the largest kid is laying down pretending to swim.)  But before I could even come into the playroom to save Gracie, Henry had calmed her down.  He pulled her to his chest, began rubbing her back, kissing her forehead, saying, "There, there, wittle Gwacie.  Henry is here.  I sorry I not careful.  It's going to be alright.  Henry is here."  And her pauses to scream became coos and giggles. 

And so, really, when you see how mightily God has been working in our house--turning grief over the loss of one little girl into joy and laughter at receiving a daughter; turning a controlling B. of a wife into someone who actually listens to and respects her husband; turning a child whose M.O. used to be biting into the baby whisperer--I think you will find that we aren't going big enough. 

Because there's a little known fact about God that we Christians don't advertise very well.  And that is that God likes to THROW DOWN!  The entire book of Revelation basically tells us that heaven is a giant Vegas-style buffet songfest.  (Okay, it says other stuff too, but really, the main thing it guarantees is lots of singing.  And where there's lots of singing there are usually two things: dancing and S'mores.  Which spells PARTY to me!)

The penultimate parable of who God is and who I am is the parable of the Prodigal Son. You know the story--rich guy has two sons.  The youngest kid asks his dad for his inheritance early and spends it carousing in the far country.  Winds up homeless eating pig slop and heads home, tail between his legs, deciding to ask his Dad for a job.  But his Dad won't even let him finish his I'm sorry speech before he starts celebrating. Rings and robes are donned.  Fatted calves are killed.  There was loud music and dancing. And if bounce houses had been invented, you can betcha there would've been one.  Probably 6 or 7 of them. But the older brother is livid.  He doesn't go into the party, but stands, bitterly pouting outside the door.  And this loving Dad says to his do-the-right-things-for-the-wrong-reasons older child, "'My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'

I have, on any given day, been both of those brothers.  Denying my Heavenly Father in the far country, falsely believing I can 'work' my way back into my Father's good graces, or watching others be joyful whilst I stew in bitterness when I do the right thing and don't get enough fanfare.  And each and every time, Christ has taken me by the hand and pulled me in the door.  Pulled me closer to my Father who still says to me, "You are always with me and everything I have is yours."

So yeah.  In Elizabethtown, when it comes time to celebrate all that God has blessed us with, you better believe that we will be playing Kool and the Gang and getting our bounce on.