Hope: Overpowered but Not Gone...Maybe

What's the opposite of hope? "Not hope"?

Yesterday, at school(not that it doesn't show itself in all facets of my life), "not hope" won. I found myself giving up on hope...hope that people's motivation behind their decisions is real....hope that power and control are not the drivers of criticism or change...hope that next year will be better...hope that the person you feel like always has hope hasn't given up on hope, too. 

I don't want to give up on hope. I want to cling to it. To hold fast to it.  In fact, I feel like I take specific steps to ensure that hope keeps the upper hand. I lost yesterday. At least, if felt like a loss. The thing is, when you give up on hope, it's hard to see the situation as anything BUT a loss. If you have hope, you interpret events/conversations/meetings/people differently. You see that there can be a different outcome. You have hope that it can be better. When you have the opposite of hope (fear? doubt? defeat?), you see nothing but loss. It makes me want to give up. It makes me want to run. It makes me angry and hurt and turns me into a person...well, with no hope.

Before I get all negative, I did experience hope yesterday. I'm pretty sure it was hope. It might have been hope. A few small pieces of hope maybe...from a best friend that allows me to be angry and hurt and ridiculous and then logical and thoughtful and calm-ish, reading words from God that bring reassurance and perspective and wisdom in Ecclesiastics, and a beautiful song by Sara Groves that reminds me that even when fear and defeat seem to overpower hope...really overpower it...maybe hope is not gone. 

For in Him we live and move and have our being

Instead of grading like I planned. Instead of planning out my lessons for tomorrow. Instead of watching mindless episodes of "Friends" or any other television show...tonight...I tried something new.

I have spent the past few hours or so reading and rereading Paul's words to the Athenians in Acts 17. Being an Alumnus from Harding, I'm sure I'm supposed to know a countless amount of information about this passage.  I'm probably supposed to know the background of the culture, which missionary journey he was on at the time, where he was going next, what the "meeting of the Areopagus" exactly is, and how the sermon he preached is supposed to show me how to teach other people about God. I probably took several tests over it.

But tonight, I am meditating on God's revelation of who he is and how he has revealed Jesus to us.

"Men of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious.  For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an alter with this inscription, TO AN UNKNOWN GOD.  Now what you worship as something unknown I am going to proclaim to you. For the God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands  And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else.  From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth, and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would see him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.'  Therefore, since we are God's offspring, we should not think that the divine being is like gold or sliver or stone - an image made by man's design and skill.  In the past God has overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent.  For he has set a day when he will judge the world with justice by the man he has appointed.  He has given proof of this to all men by raising him from the dead."

This week, I have decided to revel in this idea that "for in him we live and move and have our being".

Only, I don't want to just know it.

I want it to seep into my being and consume me.

The Rich Young Ruler and Me

Luke 18:18-23

A certain ruler asked him, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

"Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good-except God alone. You know the commandments: 'You shall not commit adultery, you shall not murder, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, honor your father and mother.'"

"All these I have kept since I was a boy," he said.

When Jesus heard this, he said to him, "You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have an give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was very wealthy.

Jesus has spoken to my heart today. Weird to hear, right? Even weirder (Is that a word?) to say.  I'm going to say it anyway. Because He did.

It's simple really. The man in the story was a good man. He followed all the commands he had been taught since he as a boy. Jesus tells him that if he really wants to know God, he has to sell all his possessions and follow Him. The man leaves because, frankly, he liked Jesus, but he liked his stuff more. His stuff was so important to him. After years of hearing lessons and devotionals about how this is a lesson for all of us, making sure we are willing to give all our possessions up for Jesus if he asked us and after reading books and articles about the shame Jesus put on this man because he was unwilling to give up his wealth, the logical conclusion we're supposed to draw is that everyone should sell everything (or at least the "extra" wealth we don't need to make sure we're comfortable and secure financially) and go follow Jesus.

I don't think this story is to bring shame on the wealthy man. It isn't some universal lesson about how Christians shouldn't be wealthy. I dare say, this story is not about the poor. This story is about Jesus. It is Jesus revealing what gives this man security and purpose. He is exposing this man's identity. I think the real purpose of this story is not money or possessions or even what we hope for. It's about our pride. He asks for us to give up that thing we're so proud of, that thing we believe causes us to matter in the eyes of the world (and ourselves!). Give it up and follow HIM! Give it up and let HIM define who we are.

This story is so much easier to read and think about when it's about wealthy people giving up money. Isn't it? It's so much easier to read when we don't actually have to do anything different, and we "choose" Jesus in our words. I do that. I choose Jesus in my words, and then go right back to serving the thing that controls my thoughts and actions. 

Jesus spoke to my heart today. This story is just another beautiful way Jesus has revealed His purpose for me - to let HIM define me. 

  

Oh, How He Loves Us

God moving people, moves me. How powerful is the love of God, and oh, how it moves me.

On Sunday, I sat in front of a young woman who was absolutely moved by the love of God. Oddly enough, I don't even know her very well, just having casual conversations here and there on the days I was in town.  It was her first Sunday after major surgery to remove cancer. As I stated above, I do not know her very well, so I won't attempt to pretend I can tell her story or know even know how to express her struggle. Sunday morning, however,  the sound of her relishing in the love of God was undeniably moving. I was brought to tears as I listened to her beautiful voice cry out.

It's a mystery how the love of God can bring so many mixed emotions at the same time. I found that while my tears of joy and thankfulness for this young woman were overwhelming, my tears were also somewhat of sadness for the loss of a good friend that was in the same battle.  How great is the love of God that it is big enough and deep enough and wide enough to encompass His people. I am so thankful for the vision of His love from both people - one in life and one in death. Oh, how he loves us.

How He Loves Us by David Crowder Band
He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And oh, how He loves us so,
Oh how He loves us,
How He loves us all.

We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.
So Heaven meets earth like a unforseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don't have time to maintain these regrets,
When I think about, the way...

He loves us,
Whoa! how He loves us,
Whoa! how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.
Yeah, He loves us,
Whoa! how He loves us,
Whoa! how He loves us,
Whoa! how He loves.


* The words and music to this song are amazing. You should listen to it here.

So many times, parts are added up to just be parts.

Have you ever read a book when you already know the ending? It's sort of a hazard of the job for me.  Maybe not a hazard.  Just something that goes with the job. Hazards makes it seem bad. It's actually the opposite.  I rather enjoy rereading books and stories.  The ending of books or stories has been on my mind recently, specifically with the story of Jesus. One thing that strikes me about the story of Jesus is that I'm supposed to know it. I mean, it's a story I've been reading all my life. At least, I've been reading the same parts all my life. Bits and pieces. Over and over again. Not only do I read the story, but different people read it to me. Bits and pieces. Over and over again. I study it; I listen to other people talk about the pieces they have studied.  I talk about the story with other people who know about the story, too. Bits and pieces. Over and over again. It's a story we know the ending to. At least I know part of the ending.

"A painting is more than the sum of its parts." This is a quote from one of my favorite young adult books. The father in the story says this to his daughter, Juli, to help her understand the value of seeing who people really are by looking deeper.  He is, obviously, a painter. He goes on to explain that a cow by itself is just a cow, and the meadow by itself is just grass and flowers, and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light, but put them all together and you have magic.

I want magic.

Bits and pieces. Over and over again. I feel like I have stared at, studied and talked about, poured into, and struggled to only see a beam of light or a meadow all my life. I've seen the parts, and I've added them together. I knew that I wasn't seeing the whole painting, but I couldn't figure out how to express what I was missing.

Back to the ending thing. I think the ending has to do with the way you view the parts. If the parts are just added up as parts, it only yields parts. Confusing? Maybe. I don't want part of the ending.

I want magic.

 

"Aaron" painting

I went to visit Aaron (Mark and Diane) this weekend. The original purpose of my visit was to be "child care" while Mark and Diane went out for their Valentine's Day dinner/surprise concert. As soon as Aaron found out I was coming, he asked me if we could paint. OF COURSE! I immediately started scouting out Pinterest to find some cute ideas. We had SO MUCH FUN! Aaron decided that we should hang his painting on his bedroom door so everyone knows it's his room. :-)

Enjoy.

"Not playing" is never an option.

I found my clarinet at my parent’s house over Thanksgiving. My mom, somehow, was able to talk me into helping her get all 20 tubs of Christmas decorations down from the storage area above their garage, and there it was. Just sitting there. It’s funny how something as simple as a musical instrument can ignite old memories that sometimes feel like they just happened yesterday and at other times they feel like they belonged to someone else. Almost as if I only heard them as a story.

As I opened the case, I tried to remember the last time I played. I couldn’t. Sometime in college. Marching band. Sophomore year. Fall of 2002. Almost 10 years ago.

Maybe I can remember.

Right before Christmas break at Harding, marching band was over, and we were practicing for our Christmas concert to be preformed in chapel. I wasn’t even sure I was going to play because I had just had my wisdom teeth removed, not exactly conducive to playing an instrument, but “not playing” wasn’t exactly an option.

Instead of a memory, maybe it's one big metaphor for my life. The concert went on as planned, not necessarily dependent on my presence. 10 years later at 11:40pm it doesn't seem to have made a huge difference in the world. No one remembers that concert but me, I guess. There were much better musicians in that band than I could ever pretend to be, my my wonderful skills as a clarinetist weren't exactly critical. And yet, 10 years later at 11:40pm, this memory floods my brain, with the resounding theme that seems to have stuck with me.

You always show up. You always play. After all, not playing is never an option.

Right?

Longing for a time...

I'm sitting on my couch with my computer open to my blog and my ipad open to Psalms knowing that the writer of Psalms seems to know my heart. As I try to choose just one song or poem from the heart of David, I am discovering it's ALL of them. Somehow I have a kindred spirit with David as I read his writing. His heart seems to follow the same pattern as my heart. He seems to be conflicted constantly between the joy and celebration of who God is and at the same time, long for protection, love, mercy, revenge, healing, knowledge, and relief. He seems to go in "shifts" of requests, praise, and anger all coming from the same heart.

My heart is going in shifts today. When I try to choose just one song or poem, I am discovering that there isn't one. How do you express one heart when it is all broken into pieces? Not all bad pieces, just different pieces with vastly different songs. Some pieces are praise, mercy, compassion, and love. Right now, the song that seems to be the biggest piece is a longing for healing. My family seems to be running parallel with my heart, in pieces; or maybe my heart is a reflection of the heart of my family.

Some pieces are in celebration for a new life being added to our family. Some pieces of anger hidden beneath a blanket of tears and hurtful words between our family. Other pieces long for protection and mercy, for compassion and understanding for our family.

All pieces long for a time of healing.

This is my psalm:

How long, oh Lord, will my heart and my family be in pieces? How long will it be? Surely there will be a time when everyone is healed. Surely there will be a time when You have seen enough suffering from the people You love. How long will You be silent? Are you silent? Why can't I hear You?

How long, oh Lord, will the pain seem to override the joy? The joy takes hold for a short time, but is fleeting. How long will it be? Surely you see my dad's pain. Surely you see my mom's pain. Surely you can see how complicated it all seems. Can't you see how broken everything is? How can You watch while it all unravels? Help me hear You. Show me Your love. I beg for understanding and compassion when anger and pain seem to blind me.

Community

I never watched the TV show "Cheers". Since shows like "Roseanne" and "The Simpsons" were off the table, it's no surprise that my parents banned a show in which the setting is in a bar. I've seen reruns, and I would probably recognize the theme song if I heard it. I even know a few bits and pieces about the show's purpose. (Don't tell my parents.) Today, the lyrics caught my attention.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows your name.

You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows your name.

I'll get straight to the point. While reading these lyrics, it shocked me that I want exactly what these words say. A community. Coming to the realization that this community they are referring to is a bar hits me hard. With no intention of making judgments on the bar setting, on the contrary, the lyrics of this song remind me of the community I long for with other Christians. A community that knows me. A group of people that hold me accountable and in check for my choices and my thoughts. I do have a type of community. I have several people in my life that know me. This is very true, and I value those people more than anything. My realization of community comes after reflecting on the idea of community. It's not a new concept to me as I have heard it since I was a kid, the Body of Christ and its parts - Sunday School 101. The newness comes from the idea that each part contributes to the whole. (I'm sure I'm already supposed to know that. Oh well.) Yes, you need each part, and every part has a role. But a role for what? That part is participating in something greater than parts. It's participating with the purpose of making something whole. They aren't supposed to be disconnected parts. They are supposed to be connected. Connected to other parts to form one body.

I feel like I'm disconnected. I'm connected with a few other parts in many different places, but I'm missing the whole. The hard part - it's my choice. In all this, I know it's my choice to be disconnected. For whatever reason or excuse I have, legitimate or not, It's my choice. I have been satisfied with limiting my connection to the whole body. It's easier. It's comfortable.

Then again, I guess if it was easier, I wouldn't feel the lack of community.

Lord, help me choose to be connected. Somehow, somewhere. Help me get over my fear of being uncomfortable. Show me how to get over my excuses of traveling, work, and family. Break apart my thoughts of arrogance that no one does it right. Keep me from believing I can do it on my own all the time. Give me the strength to resist being disconnected because it's easier. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Unannounced Visit

Sometimes when I'm in my apartment I think I have quite a bit of space, and I do when just one or two people are here. Friday night, we squished 7 adults and 3 kids in my little apartment! Mom and dad stayed the night, and mom and I went shopping all day today. I was able to find some new pillows for my couch and some patio furniture. For my birthday that is coming up, my mom bought me two plants for my porch. It looks great. What a great weekend!

My new Patio furniture

Beautiful Hibiscus my mom bought me for my Birthday

Two Two year old boys learning on RaRa's ipad

Dad, Matt, and Mark solving all problems of the world

Isaac practicing his standing

Aaron and Eli's favorite place at RaRa's house

"RaRa, I want paint wit you."

Seriously, how do you say "no" to that? After spending a little time at home today, working on school stuff, I headed down to Tullahoma to fulfill the wishes of a little boy. As soon as I arrived, Aaron and I headed to Walmart to buy a few supplies so we could paint. A couple canvases and some washable paint later and we were on our way to a masterpiece. Aaron picked ALL the colors and designs.

THIS...MUCH

Before you get to see the surprise, you need the background story.

Two years ago, Gloria and I loaded up her jeep and drove from Washington state to Kentucky. Elayna was 10 months old. A few months after we got there, I was trying to explain to EV how much I loved her. I would ask her, "How much does your Eeooch love you? THIS....MUCH!" I would put my hands out as far as I could while I said, "THIS...MUCH!" After about 10 or 20 times of helping her put her hands out, she started doing it with me each time I would ask her how much her Eeooch loved her. Eventually, every time she saw me, whether I asked her my famous question or not, she would stretch her hands out. Her hands gradually started getting closer and closer. She soon developed a new "sign" that represented me, hands about shoulder width apart and moved up and down. Several years and a few more nephews and nieces later, she has now started calling me "RaRa" just like the boys, but that famous question is still very much alive inside both of us.

While checking my mail this morning, I discovered an envelop from my two wonderful nieces. I was expecting a fun little card or maybe a beautiful picture colored by Elayna with some evidence of Cora some where in the corner. INSTEAD, I opened the envelop to discover this...

From a Prison Cell

WHO AM I? by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell's confinement

calmly, cheerfully, firmly,

like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders

freely and friendly and clearly,

as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune

equably, smilingly, proudly,

like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

struggling for breath, as though hands were struggling for breath, as though hands were

compressing my throat,

yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,

thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,

tossing in expectation of great events,

powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,

weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?

Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,

and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army

fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of

mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

The Weirdest Feeling

A few of the weirdest feelings:

* For the first night of this school year, I do not have any work for school. Oh, oh, there is plenty of work to do for NEXT year, but for this year, work is done! It is possibly the weirdest feeling ever. Note: I am sitting on my couch wondering if I'm totally crazy because my thoughts are drifting into getting a head start for next year. Ha ha.

* Today was the last day with my 7th graders. This year felt like it ended all of a sudden. I'm definitely ready for a break from work, but I'm not so sure I'm ready to give up my kids quite yet. It's a funny feeling to stand up in front of my kids and end our time together with a test. The only words I could find were, "Make sure you have a pencil." It didn't feel like the end. I will miss them. What a place they have reserved in my heart. What a weird feeling.

* I was brought to tears by a card written by one of my kids today. Somehow, she was able to grasp the dream that I prayed for daily and desired for every student this year. Even through all the chaos, rushing, and craziness of the year, she was able to see my love and passion for teaching. Such an encouragement!

* My first 7th grade class at Shafer are freshman! Today, for the first time, I had students come back to see me before they leave for high school. What a surreal feeling! The joy and tenderness that I felt as I hugged them goodbye reminded me of the place they have in my heart. I am now friends with those kids on Facebook, a coveted privilege they reminded me of that previously had not been theirs. How weird!

*I signed a new lease on my apartment today. This marks the first time since moving out of my parent's house that I will live in the same place for more than a year. Weird, but definitely awesome!

What a blessed life I have been given.

It's amazing how much they have grown!

Here are a few pictures of "the boys" from last weekend.

Aaron holding Isaac

Eli and Aaron sharing a little personal space

A little bit of rest time with a Ra Ra

Playing with Isaac

Aaron and Eli playing with their letters

I know why my kids lack perspective. What's your excuse?

Beware! Slightly passionate blog, comin' at ya!

My post comes from the thoughts swirling in my head with a focus that has a somewhat narrow audience. Teachers.

Or is it just teachers? No. I think it’s broader than that. I keep trying to put my finger on the deeper rooted issues that push people to stand against or in favor of a cause. Currently, Tennessee is experiencing change in the education system. In recent months, the change has provoked the teachers’ union. Let me be clear before you read any further, I have never been a “union person”. Whatever that means or is supposed to mean, that’s what I mean. Since this whole situation has developed, my feeling has intensified. When did the focus of education become the teachers? When did the focus of education become about how much I make as an educator? I completely disagree with the concept “what is good for the teacher, is good for the student.” What a selfish perspective by people who are supposed to be building a nation. In case any teachers slept through class the day they taught you about teaching, the focus is the students.

When did the philosophy of Americans become, “We are a democratic nation and WE elect our leaders, but if the one I wanted doesn’t win, I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs that my rights are being violated. I going to make sure that if I don’t get my way, the entire process is a living hell for everyone else. My “convictions” aren’t my focus any longer; my focus is now to make sure that whatever you stand for, I oppose it because you stand for it. On top of that, I will go to every person I know and tell them how they are being mistreated by the current leadership. Let me define mistreatment. It means you don’t get your way.

That is exactly the OPPOSITE way of thinking I beg my students to adopt every day. I preach about not feeling entitled to everything I see just because someone else has it or I simply want it. Why is it justified by teachers to say one thing in the classroom, but when it really comes down to it, be just as selfish as the students. Excuses are easy. I’m starting to have difficulty deciphering between my students excuses and some of my colleagues. My students think they are mistreated all the time. I know they are not mistreated, but they are young and just don’t have the perspective they need. They don’t appreciate education, and I am happy to provide that perspective when needed. What’s your excuse for your lack of perspective?

We were not coerced into teaching. We chose it. Could you imagine a nurse going through years of schooling, passing their board certification, going to work in a hospital and then starting a petition to get rid of blood in the operating room? How obscured!

Respectfully, if you don’t like teaching, go do something else. Walmart is always hiring.

A couple really cute boys! :)

One quick trip to Cookeville made for a very happy "Ra Ra" and some very sweet little boys. :) Enjoy the pictures!

Brothers!

Taking a little nap.

Ra Ra and Isaac

A little something extra in my laundry basket...

Doesn't get much cuter!!

Hitler and Jesus

Disclaimer: This post may be disturbing. Read at your own risk.

Would I have believed Hitler’s message? I realize that is a disturbing question.

Would I have believed the message of Jesus? That is equally disturbing for me.

I’ve often wondered what was so appealing about Adolf Hitler. Was he an eloquent speaker? Of course, my perspective and understanding of Hitler is created by the textbooks and “teaching” of America. My curiosity, however, is sparked by the people that followed him. The people that were attracted to him seemed to be educated, intelligent people. What about him was so attractive? Was his message so appealing that it was irresistible? If I had lived in Germany during the rising of Adolf Hitler, would I have believed his message of a pure race and superiority of my country? Why not? I will concede that I can’t imagine condoning the way he carried out his plan (death camps, world domination), but again, if that was my paradigm, why not? Obviously, there were Germans that disagreed with Hitler. Maybe that would have been me. Am I so arrogant to think that America is exempt and immune to the desire of world domination? Wait, isn’t America a world power? All of a sudden parts of America that stink of racism, stereotyping, and prejudice flood my thoughts. Again, what made Hitler’s message so believable to so many people? What makes America’s view of superiority so appealing? He is such a monumental figure in the history of the world. I am always intrigued by people who have so much power, others would give their life to protect or defeat the source of that power.

Would I have believed the message of Jesus? This question is somewhat different than the previous question. The above thoughts about Adolf Hitler stem from a “what if” situation due to the fact that I never have believed the message of Adolf Hitler. This next question finds its origin in a belief that already exists. If I had lived during the time of Jesus, would I have believed and followed him, or would I have resisted him? My question cannot be: what makes the message of Jesus attractive? I am already attracted. The question, then, is would I have still believed if I didn’t know the whole story. The followers of Jesus were mostly poor, uneducated, and hurt. Their lives were a mess. Not only did these people follow Him, but they seemed to seek him out every where he went, and HE looked for them. The people he rebuked and corrected, the educated and powerful, didn’t even know they didn’t get it. Again, would I have believed the message of Jesus? Honestly, it looks like a disturbing message.

“Come live with me. We’re going to go around and make a ton of people mad by explaining who God really is, do some miracles, make you question EVERYTHING you believe in, and get really close to each other. You will be confused by almost everything I say and miss the point most of the time. Then, I’m going to be murdered by the people we made mad; I’ll come back to life, and then leave again. You will won’t get it. Don’t worry because after I leave you for the second time, an invisible spirit will come and be with you. I’ll be back, but I’m not sure when. Keep telling other people about how much I love them, and treat them like I would if I was there. Meet with other people that believe in me and learn more about me by reading the scriptures that the educated people I rebuked always read but never understood. Good luck. Pray like I did. Be good.” - Jesus

I don’t write that to be disrespectful. It just seems messed up. I really want to say I would have believed in the message of Jesus no matter when I was born. One thing I am positive of: if what I just typed was the story of Jesus and was his message, I would not have believed. There has to be more.....and I think there is.

Stay tuned...

More Isaac Pictures

More pictures of Isaac!

Isaac Matthew Phillips

Isaac made his appearance a little before 3pm on December 27, 2010. He was 8lbs 15 oz and 21 inches long. Enjoy a few cute pictures!!

Meeting Isaac for the first time

Full head of hair

A family of 4

Isaac Matthew Phillips