Mother's Day

Last night John and Joe made me so proud. They were lined up facing each other on their bikes. John had his fishing pole out in front of him and Joseph had his pirates of the Carribbean sword over his head. They were ready to charge! I had to put a stop to it, but I was so proud!

In Sunday School, I think the kids learned how to tell the story of the loaves and fishes. One evening last week, John sat down in the garage, took out some clay and made loaves and fishes, and used them as props to tell the story.

Joseph likes the Old Testament, it seems. When we were in the garden a few weeks ago, he and John were pretending to be slaves, and Joe said, “And Daddy is Pharaoh.” He’s also pretty intent about Adam and Eve and Noah, and more than just the little kid parts; he wonders about the serpent, or how things didn’t get settled when God started over with Noah. You know, kid stuff.

And that came back into play today as we got to talking about Melissa coming into the hospital. Joe said, “Wherever you go, Jesus is following you.”

John said, “Well how come He doesn’t always do the miracle to keep people from getting hurt?” Kid stuff.

“Well, this isn’t our home. We’re here for a little while. And the devil is here—there’s sin and evil…” I was grasping. What do you say to two little boys who are asking about the problem of evil. There’s no answer for philosophers. Ok, so there is. But it’s complicated. And probably does not matter. In the end, it is the Cross of Christ that you look to, that you need. In the dark night of the soul, it’s not fine arguments that matter.

This is the third Mother’s Day that has not been so good for Melissa. 2005, sick. 2006, sick as a dog from total body radiation. 2007, admitted to the hospital. It’s not just Mother’s Day—it’s the pile of days, the heap of trouble. It gets to you. So I asked Melissa how she was doing. Attitude-wise. She says, “I’d rather not be here, but I am ok.” This is a testimony to prayer, hers and yours.