I Just Want You to Know_ Letters to My Kids on Love, Faith, and Family - Kate Gosselin [20]
I was a little taken aback since she was only five, and I have never pressured any of my kids into this decision. But she seemed to understand what she was asking, so I explained that she had to ask Jesus into her heart.
Mady answered, “Oh, I’d like to do that.”
Right there in the middle of our toy explosion, she accepted Jesus into her heart. Cara sat back and watched, but her turn didn’t come until a year later.
One stormy summer night, we were sitting down to have dinner and Hannah was singing, “B-I-B-I-B.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was B-I-B-L-E. “Who’s going to say thank you to Jesus?” I asked.
“I will!” Mady said.
Cara said, “We should pray for Daddy that he is safe. It looks scary outside.” Jon hadn’t come home from work yet and the storm looked like it was getting worse. And then she added softly, “Mommy. I want to ask Jesus into my heart after dinner.”
“Oh, Cara, of course!” I said through tears as I bent down to give her a hug.
After dinner, the girls took the little kids downstairs to play while I cleaned up. Cara came back up after a few minutes and said, “Remember, I want to ask Jesus into my heart.” I put down the cups I was clearing and took her into our bedroom and led her in the salvation prayer.
“Dear Jesus, I know I’m a sinner. Please forgive me. Please come into my heart. Thank you for dying on the cross for my sins so I can live forever with you as you promised. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Apart from seeing your kids born healthy, there is nothing sweeter than seeing them accept Jesus into their heart.
One of the biggest ways I put my faith to the test during this time was the decision to quit my job. In April of 2005 I had started working again—one day a week as a nurse at an outpatient dialysis clinic. Every Saturday I worked a double shift (sixteen hours). At our old house, work was only five minutes away, but it was an hour away from Elizabethtown. I left at five a.m., started work at six a.m., and worked until ten p.m., so I didn’t get home until eleven at night. I frequently asked Jon to pray for my drive home as I was exhausted after that long day and often dozed off on the road. It was scary!
As brutal as such a long workday was, it really was a great setup for us. I was grateful for the opportunity, as such flexibility in a job is hard to come by.
Every Friday I prepped all day for Saturday. I left notes, schedules, and meals, and Jon was home with the kids all day on Saturday. I used to say, “In our house, mom or dad, it doesn’t make a difference. ” Jon was a very hands-on dad, and our kids didn’t prefer a parent—one was as good as the other.
By mid-2006 I started to feel that I needed to quit my job to be home more. We were trying to fit in filming time, and I didn’t want to miss every Saturday. The guilt of not being with my family on the weekends weighed heavily on me.
I prayed constantly for my girls, who were in first grade. I asked God to protect them and to bring them home safely every day. I prayed that God would keep them innocent from all evil at school and to feel his love around them. I wanted them to shine for him!
But even with all my prayers, I still missed my big girls. They were gone to school during the week, and I was working on the weekends. I prayed that God would make a way for me to be home at least until the six were in school full time. Besides, Jon and I needed to have some lazy Saturdays as a family to let a little steam out of the pressure cooker of life. “Please, Lord,” I said, “please! I want to be here!”
Soon I felt like God was saying, “Okay. Quit. Trust me on this.”
As much as I wanted to do what he asked, I ignored him. We really needed my paycheck, and I couldn’t see how we could make it work without that income. I continued to wrestle with this issue. I really wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but the financial part