Erin Akin Carroll

Bear with me, y’all. This is a long post.

Last weekend, our little family was invited to attend a retreat called “Family Advance” with about fifteen other families from our church. There were families with children of all ages, and the attendees spanned at least three generations. (Sweet Hayes stayed home because he came down with a horrible sinus infection the day we left. My amazing in-laws hung out with him this weekend.)

We had sessions, recreation time, and we hung out by the campfire at night to roast marshmallows and eat s’mores. We had a little bit of worship time and had the opportunity to share what we were thanking God for in this year. What had God done for us in this year?

As I sat there, with my sweet Hudson on my lap huddling up to me to keep warm, I could smell the scent of firewood on him and in his perfect blonde hair. He leaned his head back to rest on my shoulder and I looked around the room at all the families that were there.

We knew some of them really well and some we didn’t know at all before the weekend. I looked at them holding their children, singing “I love you, Lord” and giggling with their siblings. I looked at some of the older families who were there. These were people who had been inviting families to church for decades, bringing people to the Lord for a lifetime. And they were there this weekend watching us and guiding us as we learn the importance of the body of believers.

Then I looked around the room at a woman, who I believe, helped begin to mold and shape my adult life. My time as a wife, a mother, a leader of children, and a follower of Christ would not be the same without her.

In December of 2008, I was great with child. Okay, so I was about five months pregnant with Hudson. Todd and I had gotten married in May of that year, and we had finally decided to join the church. This meant that we had to walk to the front of this very large church and stand in front of all of them while our pastor read our names and introduced us. This was terrifying for me. I’m so terribly shy.

But we did it. And we survived. Then after it was all over and the congregation had cleared out, a sweet couple come to greet us. They introduced themselves and told us that they were the leaders of the newlywed Sunday school class, and they wanted to invite us to attend. And I thought, “Oh no. I used up all of my courage to join this big church, and now I have to walk into a class of people I don’t know and try to make friends?”

But the next Sunday, we did it. We walked in, met some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and we were in the newlywed Sunday school class, taught by the most nurturing, Godly people we could imagine.

This was before we had any couple friends at all. We had acquaintances, but no strong couple friends in the same life stage.

And this is where we met our dearest friends.

When they invited us to that class, they didn’t know if we’d come. They didn’t know what would become of us in this great big church. But we went. We made wonderful friends. Almost all of us have had babies, and thrown babies showers, and prayed over serious illnesses and loss, and rejoiced and mourned and celebrated together.

Some of us have gone our separate ways to new Sunday school classes and broadened that circle even more with more new, wonderful, encouraging friends, while still maintaining the original friendships.

And these newer friends have children who are growing up alongside our children. They pick up my kids when they fall down. They hold my kids when they reach for them. We pray over dinner together. We keep each other’s kids when someone has a doctor’s appointment.

As I looked around the retreat facility that night, and then the next day, and saw the beautiful people that have influenced me in such a big way, I was overwhelmed by their selflessness. I was overwhelmed by the generations that were there to lift each other up.

I teared up as I saw the older women reach for the youngest baby just so the tired mother could have a conversation without bouncing her baby in her arms.

I teared up as I heard stories about how an experienced mother had also been one of the college leaders to one of my dear friends, and how couples had introduced other couples to each other.

This is the body of Christ. And it’s all around us.

And, for me, it was a wake up call to pray for intentionality. To pray to be the kind of person who seeks out opportunities to invite and include and encourage.

The impact that our Sunday school teachers had on us is enormous. Their invitation impacted our marriage, our children, our faith, and our involvement in the church that we love so much. They planted a seed.

And, this Easter week, as I think about the magnitude of the Gospel, and what that means to me as a mother, and what that means to my family, I know that I want to serve people.

Our family task for the weekend was to come up with a family mission statement. I had written many mission statements in my work career, but I was never a big fan of it. It always overwhelmed me, and the limits seemed endless.

The mission of the Carroll family is to be a blessing to those around us as we serve and love each other, our church, and our community in the name of Jesus Christ. 

I could not be more thankful for the weekend we had. The accountability with other families. The mutual love for the Lord and love for family. The comfort that I have that I know that these people know my kids’ names, and are looking out for them. That they may serve my kids in the children’s ministry and even someday in the youth ministry.

And I pray that any of you reading this will have those experiences, too. Todd and I have some big things that we struggle with, as all marriages and families do. But we are so thankful for the elders and peers that are in our lives that we can be accountable to and that we can lean on.

Have you ever considered writing a family mission statement? What would it look like?

Is there anyone in your life (outside of a family member) who has impacted your life the way my Sunday school teacher has impacted mine?