My friend told me about a trip that his family took when their eldest child was in high school.  The two parents and six children flew to St. Louis, rented a van, and took a Church history tour which included the sites in New York, Ohio, Illinois, and Missouri.  When he entered the rental agency to inquire about a van, the agent assumed he was representing a group like all the others that typically rent vans.  “How many are on your team?” the agent asked.

Avoiding any other explanation, Brother Anderson simply answered, “Eight.”

I like that.  It reminds me of the story Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone told of the woman with the large family who needed to take her children across town on the city bus.  She boarded first, put a token in the slot for herself, and then stood there putting tokens in for each of her children as they boarded.  The bus driver watched the procedure and then asked, “Lady, are all these your children, or is this a picnic?”

“They’re all my children,” she replied, “and it’s no picnic.”

I, too, have a large family, and things were oftentimes downright difficult.  I recall the trips coming home from church with six or eight children crowded into our station wagon as I wondered if I could possibly endure the squabbling, teasing, and crying until we got home.  It was certainly no picnic.  How on earth did the Andersons endure a multi-state trip?

Our 10 children are all grown up now.  All but the youngest one are married, and we’ll acquire our 43rd grandchild next month.  Our “team” (and that’s a good choice of words to describe our family) now numbers 64.  The raucous trips home from church, the crying babies in sacrament meeting, the mountains of dirty clothes, the financial worries, and all the other unpleasantries associated with raising a large family are now all but forgotten.  In its place is a huge sense of satisfaction in having accomplished something very, very good and worthwhile.

In the scriptures it’s described as having joy in your posterity.

It’s pure joy to watch my children struggling with their own large families, teaching them, disciplining them, reading to them, singing with them, praying with them, playing with them, enjoying them, and being good parents.

The fact that they’re willing to have large families of their own is a testament that they enjoyed their childhood, and that we did things right.  I see them mimicking many of the things we did, and I see them making many improvements over our methods.  This is, oh, so satisfying.  I sometimes see their frustrations, so I know that it’s no picnic; but they’re doing their part to make this the winningest team ever.