The Crow Show

Or at least that’s what we’ve been calling this weekend.

Yesterday, I got to see my brother and sister-in-law open a lot of gifts for Baby Eli, who should make his first appearance sometime around November 11. And I learned just how much my brother has to learn about babies. Seriously. The boy was asking what you did with a bottle labeled “Baby Wash.” Really, doesn’t the name suggest what you do with that?

And today, I got to watch my brother be ordained into the gospel ministry, as we Baptists like to say. My most significant memory of my dad’s ordination as a deacon was the moment when all the ordained men laid their hands on my dad and pray over him. I remember watching my dad accept this act with an attitude of humility and integrity, and it made me love him all the more.

I read a book awhile back in which the author, a woman ordained into the ministry, said what she remembered about her ordination was the weight of the hands, the weight of what she was committing herself to. My brother felt that weight today. He felt it as the ordination council questioned him, as my uncle, dad, his father-in-law, and people who have played important roles in his journey of faith laid their hands on his shoulders and prayed over him, asking for God’s blessing and continued work in his life. He felt it afterward, when he picked me up and hugged me, knowing that there isn’t anyone in this world who is any prouder of him than me. I’d often tell you, if you asked, that the thing I’m most proud of in my life is him—and that I get to call him my brother.

As my dad got up to offer the ordination prayer, he told a story I’d never heard about the night Jason and I were born. We were early; we were twins, which was unexpected; we were tiny. And Jason’s lungs weren’t developed. My dad said they knew things weren’t good. We were too little, too early. But that night, my mom had sent my dad to her parents’ house, about 25 miles from the hospital. Around 6 a.m., he got the call to come back to the hospital, because “something wasn’t right.” I’ve always known that Jason and I were not the healthiest babies, but I never knew of this early morning drive, this fear that one or both of us might die. My dad said he cried during that drive, and then he prayed. His prayer was simple: Father, I put these children into Your hands.

What a feeling to know that mere hours after we were born, our parents were dedicating our lives to the Lord. What a joy to be a part of this family!