They compete and play,
sometimes the games imply power.
One will be baby, one will play momma.
One will be monster, one will be superzero.
Or maybe they’ll both be robots.
Right now they’re playing with the hose,
and alas there is only one.

While I write this poem from the shade by the house,
they are taking turns watering the tree
and the grass and the slide.
Perhaps it will grow taller,
like the grass does,
like the tree does.
Like the girls do.
As they play, they laugh and run,
spraying each other
and flirting with the line.
If they cross it, I’ll have to intervene, and the poem will end.
But for now, they run and play
and laugh,
learning something
about life, I suppose.
About the fun you can have
together,
on this side of the line,
on the side where
peace plays.

After the break is a video of how our first water adventure of the spring went. Over time, you can really see how Izzy starts off pretty scared but gradually warms up to the idea. That’s about the closest thing to anything theological about this particular entry, but hey, sometimes the most theologically sound thing to do is get outside and play with your family.

I’m putting the video after the break because it has some footage of me getting funky on a slip and slide, and you need to at least think about whether you really want to see that before you play it.  

That said, enjoy the show.   And don’t forget to play a little this week.

In the front of the book, before the recipes, there are pages and pages of family stories. I love reading these, and really can’t help but get a little choked up reading them sometimes. Alternatively, some of them really crack me up, like the story of my uncles burying a mule. (Seriously, I’m going to have to post that one sometime. It needs to be on the internet.)

The parts about Mama Esther are some of the parts that really choke me up sometimes. By the time I knew her, she was the ancient, respected matriarch—I remember her as an almost otherworldly presence, due to be treated with the utmost reverence. I remember that well, the sense of her aura, the respect that she was so freely given by everyone in the family when we were around her. When I read these old stories, all of that makes so much sense.

This is the era I remember Mama Esther in. I don't have a picture of her, but this is my Grandmother. Mama Esther was her mom. (I'm in the yellow shirt, and then Hovie, Paige, and Heather are left to right.)

Mama Esther was born in December 1911, and she married young (16), which meant she only had a ninth grade education. In October of 1944, she gave birth to her eighth child. Two months later her Father died, and then in February 1945, her husband died in an industrial accident.  She was 33 years old.

That’s right. At 33 years old (my age), she became a widow with eight children. By all accounts, she dug in with an unbelievable amount of grit and determination. She eventually became a nurse, but that doesn’t even start to describe how hard she worked to make it. In our family there is a long and deep current of persistence/stubbornness that I think is all traced to that part of Mama Esther. The woman just didn’t give up, and that ethic is worked down deep into the bones of her descendants.  One of her daughters wrote later, “We are named Flippos, but whatever standards and values we may have in the way of courage, strength, or work ethic —as well as some of our faults—are all Mama Esther.”

Reading these stories is incredibly challenging to me. (Seriously, I have trouble when Kelly leaves me with the girls for a couple of days, and she pulled off the single mom role with EIGHT kids at home?) I can’t help but be proud of that heritage. It brings out the best in me, and challenges me to become more than I am. She was an incredible woman.

Near the end of her life she was in the hospital, having had a series of strokes. Her family got a call early in the morning, and were told that she had fallen out of bed. when they got to the hospital and asked her what happened, she is said to have replied, “See, you can do anything when you put your mind into it. It nearly took me all night to get out of that bed.”

Yeah, that’s the kind of spirit I want to have. Never give up.

Kelly, apparently knowing full well that I was unprepared to preach for mother’s day—being a man who understands almost nothing about the subject, graciously offered me the opportunity to deepen my understanding while she went to the beach this week. That’s right—for nearly a week I’ve been flying solo with the girls, which is of course a joke you can understand only if you know both me and the girls in question. Indeed, today’s short sermon is mostly due to the fact that I have to get home and clean up before she gets back later tonight.

Mothers are amazing. It is well and good that today is a day marked off to say thank you to all those mothers out there, the stay at home moms, the working moms, the single moms, the struggling and victorious moms who give so much of themselves to their families, fulfilling the sacrifice of Christ in the most humble and incredible ways. To you all we say, “Thank you. We could not be who we are without your love and sacrifice.”

The Bible has much to say about motherhood. The story of redemption is full of many stories of women, women who took down and raised up kings, who preserved the people of God and who opened the way for exodus, conquest, and redemption. Along the way, many of these stories (though not all!) are stories of women who worked, wept, and waited for children—women who saw their place in the story of God as being related to their calling as mothers. That’s not at all to suggest that this was a single, homogenous sort of work. Indeed, stories such as Sarah, Rebecca, Hannah, Mary, Elizabeth, Bathsheba, Ruth, Jochebed and Zipporah testify to the diversity of paths that may all be called, faithfully, “motherhood”. “Motherhood” mysteriously takes many forms, as each person who finds that role to be part of her story works out what it means in her own context, in the face of her own challenges and amidst her own blessings. We do motherhood a disservice when we try to make it take one form. Indeed, no two moms are any more alike than any two sons or daughters. Mothers, be free, not to become just like the other moms you see, but what has called you to be in the life of your family. Learn from the example and wisdom of other women as well as you can, but do not try to become them. God did not give your children to them, but placed them in your care, entrusted them to you. You honor that trust not by simply imitating others, but by seeking out the gifts and blessings that you can uniquely offer your children. That freedom is not license to be irresponsible (this is just my way!) but is an immense challenge, that by struggling, collecting wisdom, and discerning what is right and faithful you can become exactly the mother God created you to be rather than a copy of someone else.

God gives us different mothers because we all have different needs and challenges. Some of us struggle to understand boundaries and responsibility, some of us struggle to find our independence. Some children need to be coaxed into hitting the books, some need to be coaxed out of them from time to time. Some of us need more help making friendships, some of us need more help understanding what it means to have boundaries in our relationships. Different mothers do things differently, and part of the challenge in this role—like in many of the things God calls us to— is figuring out what it means to do it as you. what does it mean to take all the things that make you unique and fit them to the unique challenges posed by your situation. Motherhood, as a calling, is intensely personal. But that doesn’t mean it’s all about you. Rather, if I have one challenge to give you today, it’s to learn the mystery that as personal as your calling is, it is not all about you. In fact, in the call to motherhood we can clearly see the challenge of what it means to be called by God to do anything, namely that we must learn to live as though the world does not revolve around us. In accepting any call of God we lay down any claim to our own self-interests, and place ourselves at God’s disposal. Hear that well: when I say that motherhood is not about you, I do not mean that it is all about your children, either. Rather, it is all about God. What you want or desire, as well as what your children want or desire, is not as important as participating in God’s story and mission.

Mothers do well when they teach their kids that the world revolves around neither the mother or the child, but for the sake of God’s glory and honor. In motherhood, you participate with God in his work to redeem the world, by teaching your children to hear and follow God. By providing for their needs you can become for them both the means and a symbol of his gracious provision in their life. By your speaking and living what you see in the scriptures, God’s word can again become incarnate before your children’s eyes, so that faith can take on flesh and become a part of the world made up of car pools and summer walks, the world of crazy schedules and bedtime stories, the world of soccer practice and lost shin guards. Your participation with God makes you a missionary to a world of crayons and swim meets, to the foreign lands of sidewalk chalk and middle school cafeterias.

Becoming a mother may not be the only expression of your role in God’s mission, but it can be a powerful one, filled with the miracles of supper and found shoes, the hard tasks of homework and the perils of prom. Paul in his shipwrecks was in no place as strange as those corners of the world a mother’s minivan takes her on her missionary journeys, and his heartbreak over the Corinthians scarcely matches the tears any mother sheds over the sorrows of the children God places in their hands.

Mothers, may God bless your work, not because it is easy or rewarding, but because it is His work, because it is part of His mission, for the sake of His glory.  For your calling to be a mother is not about you, or even your children. It is one place where, mysteriously, we become co-workers with God, his ambassadors of reconciliation. Motherhood is about God, and God’s work in the world. You may say about your work as mothers what Paul mysteriously says about his own ministry (2 Cor. 6:1), “As we work together with him…”. This is the mystery of life, the mystery of ministry, the mystery of motherhood. It is a partnership with God, something that he gives us to do, but something that he also does with you and through you. In motherhood, you participate in God’s work. May we all listen to the call of God, so that wherever he bids us to join him, we may joyfully and faithfully follow, for the sake of his glory.

Amen.

Izzy would also like everyone to know that her painting is now dry.  It is a nice painting of yellow.

On June 15, 2009, Kelly and I adopted Micah Marie and Israel Ann. What a blessing for our lives! It’s crazy now to even try and remember what our lives were like before then. Parenthood has already been so fulfilling, so rewarding, and so frustrating.  The world’s best kisses and giggles are totally worth those long nights trying to get the little boogers to go to sleep. Every day is still a wonderful adventure, and Kelly and I never know what they’re going to discover and learn even the next day. They talk about all kinds of stuff.

Right now they’re all about Aunt Martha’s babies, Jonah (thanks, Curtis!), catching lightning bugs, getting married (not on my life), playing in the water, and watching ‘Bama in the world cup (please don’t tell ‘em).   Who knows what they’ll be into tomorrow.  I do know that Kelly and I will be all into them.

Adoption can be a tough thing. All kinds of crazy things happen, and it’s no wonder that the process is terrifying to a lot of people.

Still, I don’t want to let today pass without giving my testimony that for Kelly and I, the process has absolutely been worthwhile.  It might not be for everybody, and some people are better equipped to serve kids in other ways. But I also know there are a lot of kids out there that just need somebody who’s committed to loving them deeply. You can make a tremendous difference in a life, and it might just be yours.

It’s worth thinking about.  Happy Adoption Day, babies.  

Mothers’ Day is always a good day for life reflections, and that held true for this year, even if the reflections came amidst a higher level of chaos than normal. I’ve been so blessed by having a great mom, and by being surrounded by great mothers!

Here’s a really sweet picture of Kelly being a good mom this Sunday.  Aren’t they all so sweet!

(The pillow was her gift.  She would love for you to comment on its cuteness.  Personally, I think there are three things in the picture infinitely cuter.)

Did I mention that Kelly’s in California this week?

Yeah, that’s right, worst (or best) timed vacation ever, depending on your perspective. Six days. The good news is that my sweet Kell-bell is getting all refreshed for the coming super-stress month. The bad news is, I forgot to get more milk. (I did get more diapers though, so things could be worse.)

I really try to be aware of all the stuff that Kelly does to keep us all sane, but there’s no denying that when she’s gone, I’m barely treading water! Quick lesson: Tell those people who take care of you that you know it and that you love them! It’s too easy to take stuff for granted.  And if you’re not expressing the appreciation, you might as well be taking them for granted.

She’s coming home tomorrow (Tuesday), which means the three of us are all excited to have momma back.  It just ain’t the same without her.

It also means that if you need me tomorrow, I’ll be cleaning the kitchen.

(There’s a video of our shenanigans after the break.)

“She’s awesome! However: Does not like to snuggle.” -Julie
“She’s a good mama.” -Barbara
“She finds her husband’s quirks endearing” -Joyce (Really? What quirks?)
“She doesn’t really like animals. i mean she wouldn’t run over one in the street but she’d rather not cuddle them. No, really – she is laid back, loves life, loves her babies, laughs out loud a lot and is articulate. -Brooke
(By the way, this post summarizes Kelly’s position on the matter.)

Thanks for the input, friends. Here’s what I ended up going with:

Kelly grew up in Fresno, CA. She worked as a youth intern for churches in Chattanooga and Memphis before coming to Little Rock after her graduation from Harding. She loves to laugh, but tries not to laugh too much at Steven, lest he think himself too funny. She worked with Easter Seals of Arkansas for six years, as a social worker serving some of the most wonderful people in the special needs community. She loves to be part of the action, but hates the spotlight. Kelly’s a fantastic mentor to many of the young women in our youth ministry, and bakes a pretty mean batch of cookies when the kids come over to watch Lost or play games. She’s a fierce competitor, unless she gets tired. If a game goes past 11:00 in the evening, she’ll probably let you win. For the pat year and half, her great joy has been learning to be a Momma. Staying home with the girls has been a great experience, full of all kinds of laughter and the occasional tear. The girls think her kisses are magical.

It was all the restraint I could muster to not add: “Her husband thinks they’re magical, too.” I do love my sweet punkin’. She’s awesome!

Of course, the best way to introduce my awesome Kelly is to let her speak for herself. We’ve moved her blog over to this site, but are going to wait a little bit to change all the site navigation. For the future, it’s probably where we’re going to place all our family videos and pictures, so this blog can be a little more focused.

All that to say, if you haven’t checked out Kelly’s blog yet, here it is!