My last couple of posts have been rather heavy. The clip below has nothing to do with anything... but I decided it's time to {momentarily} lighten up.

This is only one minute long but trust me... it'll make your whole stinkin' night.

But what about the rest of us? Those of us who are generally healthy, gainfully employed and who are not dealing with significant loss or other such trials. We're rich Americans. How could we possibly suffer for the cause of Christ?

Our family was pounded last week with the stomach bug. And in a family with five young children, the stomach bug is never good news. But it’s especially rotten news when it arrives several days before vacation.

Dan and I sat with the kids last week, night after night, and prayed for healing. We prayed for the “yucky germs” to leave our home and that the Lord would restore us all to perfect health… because you know, we had a vacation planned.

And the Lord did provide the health we needed to make the trip. He also provided some awesome Chattanooga travel tips through Marcie H, a precious blog reader.













We made it through every day of the trip without even a hint of the stomach bug. It was a complete miracle and a precious couple of days together. Aaaaaaaand then Davis threw up in the car on the way home.

I guess next time I should pray more specifically that the Lord would provide health for our vacation… and for the entire drive home.

I thought about hitting the “publish” button and ending this post right here. A sweet family vacation. A couple cute pictures. A little puke on the way home. And {mostly} all is well with the Owens Family.

But I’d be doing y’all a terrible disservice -- because that’s not the end of my story. And if you know me well, you know those aren’t the types of blog posts I write anyways.

Here’s the truth that’s burdening me: I spent the last week fervently praying for and encouraging my children to pray for… a vacation. And frankly, that’s pretty lame.

Yes, we’re called to bring our prayers and petitions before the Lord. It’s true that He numbers even the hairs on our heads and cares deeply about the details in our lives. And a family vacation seems innocent and wholesome enough for a prayer topic.

But let’s get some perspective.

I know many mommas who live in the third world. And in third world countries, women don’t pray for their children to get well so they can go on vacation. Those women pray for their children to get well so they can live.

The rich pray for things like vacations, parking spots, faster internet access and enough money to make private school tuition. While the poor pray for things like food, water and basic life necessities.

On Tuesday (whilst on my much-prayed-for vacation) I read this quote from Jen Hatmaker: “The poor world is begging for mercy like Bartimaus, while the rich world is asking for more favor like James and John.”

And then it hit me right between the eyes. That’s me. That’s what I’m doing. I’m constantly asking God for more favor, more blessing, more good stuff in my already way over-blessed life.  With every breath of most of my prayers on most days, I’m begging the Lord for ease. For comfort. For fun. For a complete lack of suffering in any capacity.

Paul Billheimer says this: “It is not unusual that the greatest saints, those who have made the greatest contribution to the kingdom on earth, are those who have suffered the most… we never learn anything new about God except by suffering.”

But how on Earth does one suffer in an affluent culture such as America? Sure, there are those of us who suffer due to a loss, tragedy or other situation. But what about the rest of us? Those of us just shuffling through life, comfortable as pie, with no real clue what the word suffering really even means?

My next post will deal with that topic specifically: how to suffer well in America. But for now, I'll get on my knees and pray this prayer for me, for you and or for anyone who identifies with the words I've written here.

Lord, this Easter may we not desire what’s easy. May we not pray for what’s selfish. May we desire, above all, to share in your sufferings and to truly know you and the power of your resurrection. And through our sufferings and refinement may You make us into your likeness and use us for your glory.

Happy Easter, dear friends. Rejoice for He is Risen!

Have you ever had a really, really big problem? I have. Frankly, it seems like Dan and I deal with them all the time.

We have two adopted children. They came to us from unbelievably harsh circumstances and have many demons in their closets. There are days that I fear they'll never fully recover... and there's really "nothing" I can do about it.

Our ministry serves imprisoned children. Imprisoned. Children. It's a problem so big and so complicated that there's really "nothing" I can do about it.

Really big problems tend to make me feel... really helpless. Can you relate? Have you ever faced a mountain so big that you knew you couldn't scale it? Or perhaps you've heard these words from a doctor... "I'm sorry. There's 'nothing' we can do."

This week, I was blessed and encouraged by these words from my morning Bible study...

Our house is on the market. We listed it several weeks ago. All the neighbors have been by to tell us that they’ll be sad to see us go but that they “understand.” We have a big family so obviously we need a bigger house. Right?

Wrong. We happen to like our little house and we’ve found lots of ways to make it work for us. We have our reasons for needing and wanting to move – but none of them are because we desire a bigger house.

Besides, the term “small house” is very relative. I’ve been to Africa and I’m perfectly aware that by the world’s standards, my three bedroom, 2 bathroom house is basically a palace.

I’m not against big houses and if you own one, I think that’s great. But what I am against is the way Dan and I often feel pressured to upgrade and “move on up” just because the world tells us it’s time.

So here’s how we make our small house work for us…

This is mission control.



It’s also known as the wire shelf in the laundry room. It’s where I keep our homeschool supplies, paper products, dry goods that won’t fit in the pantry (because my “pantry” is actually just another medium sized cabinet in our kitchen), art supplies, coupons and basically everything I might stuff into a basement or an extra bedroom if I had one.

This is my homeschool room.



It’s also known as the kitchen table. I have to admit that sometimes I see pictures of really amazing homeschool rooms and I get a little jealous. What I love about them the most is the idea of a separate place to stash all the books, papers, school supplies and other clutter that goes along with homeschooling. But at the same time, having our “homeschool room” right in the middle of my kitchen works well for multi-tasking. I can teach grammar while I unload the dishwasher. Or keep an eye on the math assignments while I bake bread. It’s often rather handy.

This is the playroom.

Adorable baby not for sale with house.

It’s also known as the garage. Seriously. We rolled out a foam pad and some cheapo carpet onto the concrete floor. We run a heater in the winter and a fan in the summer and… voila, a playroom! The “playroom” also functions as additional storage space and provides an extra spot for schoolwork when I need to split up the kids to help them focus. And my car just has to live outside and that’s too bad, so sad.

By the way… are you sensing a theme here? Very, very few places in my small house have a singular function. Nearly every space doubles as something else. The den also functions as the office. The top of Madeline’s closet also functions as the linen closet. Baby Charlotte’s dresser also functions as her changing table. We can’t afford to waste any space, so we don’t.

And speaking of doubling up… my kids don’t have their own rooms. (Gasp!) Hannah and Madeline share a room, Joseph and Davis share a room and Charlotte has a small nursery next to the master bedroom. All five kids share one, simple bathroom with a single sink. And while they’re grumbling and waiting in line at night to brush their teeth, Dan and I tell them it’ll build character.

We’re perfectly happy to host guests in our little home. Baby Charlotte sleeps in a queen sized bed with bedrails. When guests stay with us, her room becomes the guest room and she bunks with the big girls. And she loves every minute of it.

And finally, there are the perks. These are my two favorite perks to living in a small house:

First, limited space means limited stuff. We have two sets of sheets for each bed in the house. My kids have two pairs of pajamas each. I don’t decorate with cute knick-knacks for every holiday of the year. And we have so few toys that it would probably be shocking to most people. But I actually find this lack of stuff to be rather freeing – not the other way around.

Second, we spend a lot of time outside. A LOT. Dan and I would much prefer a small house with a big yard over a big house with a small yard. We love to sit on the porch and watch the kids run through our backyard, climb trees and dig in the dirt. We love for them to use toys powered by nothing but their own legs and their big imaginations. It's a beautiful thing.

So by this point you might be wondering -- if we love our little house so much, why are we moving? Well, that's a blog post for another day. Stay tuned...