Meet Mrs Smith

Ta książka jest pod wieloma względami


Inspirująca, zabawna, poruszająca, zachęcająca, wciągająca. Tak bym ją określiła w pięciu słowach. Chociaż...Stop! Przecież autorka ma szóstkę dzieci, powinnam znaleźć jeszcze jedno określenie! Hmm...


czyli może wyzywająca...? :)

A jakie wyzwania rzuca? Czytając ją, zostałam skonfrontowana z kilkoma sprawami w swoim życiu, jak np.

1) skoro Anna Smith, żona byłego frontmana znanego zespołu Delirious? i matka szóstki dzieci, daje radę, to chyba ja też mogę... Przy mojej dwójce i mężu, co prawda pracującym, doktoryzującym się i mocno zaangażowanym w służbę, ale jednak nie podróżującym po półkulach świata kilka razy w roku... Da a!

 2) Anna opisuje, że za cel postawiła sobie bycie matką, która nie jest grumpy. Nie chce zrzędzić, narzekać, ciągle się o coś upominać, krzyczeć czy żyć w ciągłym stresie. Chce


To jest jej prezent dla Pana Boga, z wdzięczności za to, co sama od Niego otrzymała. Czyż to nie jest wyzwanie dla mnie samej?

3) autorka przeszła proces, od dostrzeżenia tego, że żyjemy dla jakiegoś większego celu, niż tylko codzienność, do faktycznego działania na rzecz potrzebujących. Nie chodzi o to, że każda z nas ma się rzucić w wir pracy dla innych, bo pierwsza i główna praca to nasza najbliższa rodzina i nasz dom, ale jednak


w naszym życiu. Dla jednych, być może jest to wychowywanie dzieci, tak by żyły pełnią Bożego planu, dla innych może jest to summienna praca w szkole, na kasie, szpitalu czy korporacji. A może dla jeszcze innych jest to wyjazd na misję, zostanie rodziną zastępczą, adpotowanie dziecka, mimo kilku własnych, startowanie do rady miejskiej, napisanie książki, nagranie płyty etc. itp.


Więcej nie będę już wam pisać, dawno czytając tak mile i inspirująco nie spędziłam czasu, bo książka jest naprawdę świetna. Napisana jest szczerze i z humorem, czyli to, za czym chyba każda z nas tęskni...  Urzekło mnie na przykład określenie Anny little bed picnic - coś co zabierała z sobą wieczorami do łóżka, po tym jak udało się położyć dzieci spać... No i chyba nie zdziwi was fakt, że Annie też nie obce są konstruktywne wymiany zdań z mężem, bo nawet Martin Smith, autor takich piosenek jak "I could sing of your love forever" czy "History Maker" nie od razu wynosi śmieci ;)

No to zaczynamy :)

A sense of humour is required to survive parenting.

Life is a precious gift that should never be wasted.

The reality of doing life with someone is so much more about commitment than feelings. 

We were both passionate about giving our lives to God, but what would that really mean for us?

I had a feeling that our life together was not going to be normal and that there would somehow be a price to pay for all the dreams in our hearts.

From the very beginning of our marriage it was obvious that Martin had a clear calling and a mission on his life.

Inevitably, as the band became more successful we had to fight for moments together and time with God.

There are so many questions in life that are unanswerable—which leaves us with unsolvable mysteries or divine silences.

Soon the baby was the size of a kidney bean, and the time had come for our first ultrasound at the hospital to see exactly what was growing inside me. I had imagined this moment since I was a little girl dreaming at my school desk: my pregnant self, floating into the hospital with strings playing in the background and my husband skipping down the hospital corridor, his hand in mine and love in his eyes. Well, instead, we were late leaving because he was in the studio finishing a song. He’d forgotten to shave and was still scribbling down lyrics in the waiting room. Idiot! I thought to myself. Sorry, but it’s true. I know I should be saying, “Praise God for such a great and godly man,” but sometimes I want to ram that microphone where the sun don’t shine.

Growing up, I wanted to be a mum who didn’t get stressed out. So now I try to recognise the situations that I find difficult, and I do what I can to prevent them from getting to me. I make it my mission not to be grumpy. But when I do let it rip, it’s Martin who is on the receiving end—everything becomes his fault—and out tumbles all the frustration, and I lump it all on his shoulders.

The new house became a gathering place for friends and family. Weddings, birthdays, and baby showers; book launches, BBQs, and youth events; New Year’s Eve parties, pudding parties, and Valentine’s parties; baptisms, thirtieths, fortieths, and even a fruit party for Jon’s twenty-first. You name it, we celebrated it, and every mark on the carpet has a story to tell.

Allowing people to come into our home is really important to me. I want my home to be a place of eating, reading, praying, playing, dancing, and sleeping. Essentially, it’s just a building of stone, but it’s also a place to create memories.

I looked upon my four children deep in sleep, so my heart expanded. I also learned many lessons. I guess I never know myself what I am good at until I try; I never know how much patience I have until it’s tested. It’s easy to get bogged down thinking about all the things I can’t do, worrying about my inabilities and lack of experience or contemplating how skilled others are and not believing in myself. I once saw a great quote in a magazine and tore it out: “What you are is God’s gift to you—what you do with yourself is your gift to God.” So what is my gift to God? My gift while I care for my children is to put every bit of every minute into being the best mother to them that I can be. God gave me these little treasures, the greatest gift I will ever receive, and with this treasure comes responsibility.

I’m feeling slightly nauseous, and I wish the pregnancy hormones would take mealtimes into consideration—it’s far too inconvenient for me to have my head down over the toilet right now.

Darlene is a devoted wife and wonderful mum to three gorgeous girls. A lot of people would imagine that her life is always full of roses, but here is a woman who has walked a hard road and continually paid the price for being so committed to the unique calling on her life.

For so many years the band had always felt like Martin’s thing, and my role was simply to support him. But I was thriving on this new project and the greater purpose. Every day a new piece of the project fit the puzzle, and Martin and I were in this together. I would never call myself a charity worker or a singer, but I was about to embrace a bigger role as this dream became reality. The high chair still needed wiping a hundred times a day, but I started to feel passionate about being a kind of mum to those who had nothing. I felt a new call to work beyond my own limitations and comfort zone.

Not only were we representing our families, but as a group we reflected the Delirious? name and the core values for which we all stood.

Sitting at the dining table with the calendar in front of us, we worked out when might be a good time to start trying. Very romantic, I know! The children thought the star on the calendar was pocket-money day—if only they knew!

Deep down, I had always been a little jealous of Martin’s travels and experiences around the world, especially his contact with people in extreme poverty. But when I went there [India slums] and stood face-to-face with it, with the smell in my nostrils, part of me wished I hadn’t seen it. I wished I could pretend I didn’t know about that place, those people. I didn’t want to go back—my heart was breaking. God broke my heart.

Sometimes my life is a parade of many paradoxes (...) Paradox. I didn’t have any answers, so we had to live in the tension. Where there is tension there is movement. Where there is movement there is life. Where there is life there is love, and love must be at the centre of every decision we make. It’s our motive for doing something that counts, and we must all walk through the complicated maze of trying to use our lives to benefit others, to give away what we’ve been given.

There are wealthy people who squander every penny they earn on themselves, and there are poor families who’ll give someone their last bit of food because that person is the guest of honour. Money is seldom the issue; it’s our heart that usually messes things up. Our hearts need a revolution, and God can use good hearts to change the world.

Martin and I tend to argue about the same thing—basically, I ask him something, and he doesn’t hear me, or I pour my heart out, and he falls asleep. In our marriage this has been the one bugbear that can drive me to distraction. I don’t want to have to ask Martin to clean the high chair; I want him to see that it needs doing. He’ll always say: “Babe, tell me what to do, and I’ll gladly help.” Which is great, but I don’t want to feel like I’m a wife who is constantly barking a list of errands: “Can’t you see those toilet-paper rolls at the bottom of the stairs? They aren’t going to bounce upstairs of their own accord, honey.”

Communication is the key. I love my mystery man, but sometimes our lifestyle can pull us apart. At times it feels like two single people living under the same roof—devoted parents with a terrible sense of disconnection with each other. We love each other immensely, but just like everyone else, we have to fight for our marriage. We’re not invincible. We have to fight for what is good and right.

Our life seemed to have no on/off button.

What brought blessing and inspiration to thousands of people around the world also brought pain and resentment to our home. The band was always an extraordinary force for good, but our marriage, our children, and our family were important too. I’m all for paying the price for being “world changers,” but our first priority had to be our family.

A mixture of female brain and jet-lagged man at their best.

Hope is hearing the melody of the future; faith is dancing to it. Ruben Alves

It was humbling to see the trust they placed in Martin, and I discovered afresh the impact that the band had made—the industry knew him, trusted him, and partnered with him in his dream. I saw him not just as a singer, but as a leader and a man who could lead with integrity and grace.

Martin hung out with Farin [Indian girl from slums], shared pictures of our kids, and spent time with her family. He still loves that girl. Somehow, she’s part of our family even though she lives a thousand miles away. She’s the reason for CompassionArt, and she’s the one who broke our hearts.

Just because God’s in a project doesn’t make it easy.

So when my children had meltdowns all at the same time, I just took a deep breath and sang at the top of my voice the first song that popped into my head. Songs from The Lion King, Annie, “Thine Be the Glory,” anything. And if the crying got louder, I sang louder! It was my coping mechanism, and Mary’s surprised face always made the others smile and momentarily forget their traumas. If I wanted to let off steam I had to do it in the downstairs bathroom or at the end of the garden. We were all on this roller coaster and it was scary at times, but we felt the wind in our hair, knowing we were alive and living for a bigger purpose.

I was devastated to see these precious, innocent children discarded like trash. Where was the sanctity of life?

I don’t take it lightly that we were able to take six young children to Africa and give them this experience. We want our children to grow up with love for the unloved deeply rooted in their DNA, so they know that this life is not just about them but about serving those who need help.

We knew something had to change. It was like that feeling you get when you wake up one morning and you know it’s time to change jobs or paint your bedroom a different colour.

Yes, life carries on because life is always best in the context of community. 

The way I approach life is seen and heard by a dozen little eyes and ears—they are watching my every move, from how I speak to the sales assistant to how I respond to the person who stole my parking space.

Sometimes we choose a particular word for the day, such as helpful, kind, generous, hygienic, patient, or tolerant. I try to choose something constructive that shifts the emphasis from me, me, me, to focus on others. These are bite-size, manageable goals that work more wonders with my children than phrases like “now be a good girl,”

I’ve always believed that to be positive is to be powerful. I always want to believe in what I’m doing, communicate clearly, and celebrate.

The only opinion a child has of himself or herself is what they have been given from those responsible for their early development.

Life’s too short to get bogged down with the small stuff, so I laugh it off, get the clumsy one to help clean up the mess, and move on—I don’t need to verbalise every annoyance.

There is no peace in an environment in which every comment generates tension. So I focus on what’s important and screen out the rest. Being fair, firm, and consistent are the basic parental mandates—my children get confused if I’m calm one day and freaking out the next.

When I speak to or punish the children, I like them to look into my eyes so they can see how cross I am. I’ve found that while rules are important, setting a good example is better.

My general rule is to break the will but not the spirit, so I try to make sure they understand the reason for my disciplining them by getting them to repeat what I’ve said. The question “Why am I cross?” often results in a blank look, so I gently remind the child: “Because you snatched the dolly out of Poppy’s hand.” Then I’ll ask again: “So, why is Mummy cross?” And then they understand for themselves: “’Cause I snatched the dolly.”

I use lots of eye contact with the children.

There’s never a better time to teach children obedience than in the early years.

I give one instruction at a time, am specific, and go straight to the point. Then I get the children to repeat what’s been asked of them, because even if I think I’ve made it quite clear that the play farm animals need to be put back in the box, when I ask my three-year-old, “What are you going to do now?” I get a blank look and a chewed sleeve. As tempting as it is for me to scoop the play animals up into my arms (which would take about ten seconds), I resist. If I help, I give the message that it’s okay to leave the mess, because Mummy will clear it up anyway. So as painful as it is to watch how slowly the buffalo is handled, played with, and then tossed into the box, I hold back. Ultimately, I’ve given an instruction, and my child will see the job completed and learn obedience.

I help my children set realistic goals, give them positive feedback, and show them appreciation.

Routine gives me amazing freedom—it organises my daily life into manageable chunks.

Sitting in front of the TV with a bowl of treats is pretty hard for a mother of six to beat.

Domy words build others up or leave others feeling put down?

My words are my advertisement to the world of who I am, what I feel, and what I think.

It’s important to apologise to my children when I mess up, as well as to encourage them to say sorry when they mess up. Sometimes this can be hard, but Martin and I are not perfect. When we say sorry to each other or to the kids, it’s a good example of modelling forgiveness and a soft heart. As a general rule, if the children see Martin and me argue, we try to make up in front of them too, so they see conflict and resolution.

I want to have the wisdom to know that every day I spend at home is a day with my children; that there are no unimportant moments in their lives; and that no other work is more rewarding and no task more urgent.

Investing a bit of time to set up systems can pay dividends later when creating an efficient and orderly environment. (...) Now there’s a thought: everyday shoes, “blisters like small cupcake” shoes, never-wear-again shoes, strappy wedding shoes, wrong-size shoes, and “what was I thinking when I bought these” shoes.

If I’m walking past a mess, I sort it out. In fact, I probably spend half the day scrambling around on the floor.

I encourage the children to make their own beds, and on Saturday morning we do a room inspection—and the owner of the tidiest room gets the extra chocolate crepe or croissant at breakfast.

When they have friends over they get a five-minute warning so they can tidy up before they leave.

For ages I resisted the urge to order the food on the Internet, but now I’m completely converted. I may not be able to squish the bread on the bakery shelves or breathe in the smell of the ocean at the fish counter, but I can live without that when someone handpicks my food off the shelf and delivers it to my door.

I like to plate up the kids’ food so I can see what’s being eaten and by whom. Buffet style doesn’t work well because I never know what each child has eaten.

The thought of taking six children to a shopping mall is my ultimate nightmare.

Simplicity is the key for me. Take underwear, for example: I buy white socks and pants and mark in coloured pen on the label to indicate which pair belongs to each child: blue for Levi, green for Noah, red for Elle, etc.

In our big family it’s vital to make time for undivided attention

Just because things are difficult doesn’t mean that they’re not right. Sometimes it’s easy to assume that if something’s going wrong, it must be for a reason. But I’ve found that character is developed during tough times, and dependency on God is there for me when I’m struggling.

To be winners, we need to survive in a tough world, to practice self-control and compassion, to be servant-hearted and kind to everyone we meet, because people are all facing their own battles.

Jesus didn’t watch from the sidelines; He got in amidst the people.

The most important thing a wife can do for her child is to love her child’s father. The most important thing a husband can do for his child is to love his child’s mother.

My number-one rule is: Keep realistic expectations.

Communication is so vital in these situations: talking, laughing, keeping a sense of humour, acknowledging the season of life that we’re in, and refusing to allow a spiral of discontent and bitterness.

Hug is one of the most affirming nonverbal messages that we can give each other. (...) Nonsexual touch and affection as a husband and wife is vital in the family unit, sending a strong positive message of love and security. (...) And we don’t apologise to the children when we need our own space. Sometimes they need to know that they can’t come first every time.

And it’s an added bonus if Daddy leaves a little note for them under their pillow to find at bedtime.