Being Delores Lee Ellis III

On this day, the day of my birth, I honor my mother, Delores Lee Ellis, who raised 12 children alone, teaching us each the importance of love, faith, hope, peace, respect, humility, persistence, grace, music, giving, art, sharing, reading, intention, education, language, purpose, destiny, and choice.

Historically speaking African American mothers, perhaps all mothers indeed, have always been the backbone of the family, the one who held things together in spite of loss and depravity, enduring hardship as a good soldier. My mother was such a one. But one who was both mother and father to her 12 children, all by the one man she "loved next to Christ." Bitterness never entered in as we were growing up. Instead, she single-handedly raised us with honor and integrity, taught the value of education, and showed us how to stand gracefully in the face of defeat.

I never saw my mother cry, yet I know she most certainly did. I never saw her in pain, though we know she most certainly had it. I never heard her complain, though there could have been much to complain about. When asked, "how are you?," her response was inevitably the same, "blessed of the Lord." You see, the base of my mother's strength was her confidence in God. In spite of everything, including her three-day weekly journey to dialysis, which sometimes resulted in immense weakness, and her battle with diabetes, she believed that God would not put anymore on her than she could bear--this after raising 12 children alone. Every struggle was meant to end in victory and her love for God and sheer determination propelled her on.

My mother was a mixture of grace and tenacity, gentle as a flower and inflexible as steel, if needed. When dealing with opposition she always smiled graciously, but extended her hand in mercy giving whatever she had to give to pay bills. When growing up she needed only to look at you to express her dissatisfaction. When giving whippings with a firm hand, she gently spoke to us with each stinging lash. In fact, we never heard our mother raise her voice. She simply stated her desires and we followed suit. But it's not like we didn't test her. We did--especially me, but rarely if ever disrespectfully. She always got the better of the debate spoken so in soft tones. She disarmed us with her grace; even when we were raging mad we succumbed to her wisdom, beauty, and her highly refined reasoning abilities.

What a beauty she was! She was, in fact, the most beautiful of wild flowers that endured in spite of inclement times, standing beautifully in the face of high winds, the beating sun and thunderstorms. Can you imagine raising seven boys and five girls alone? We were the apple of her eye and we knew it. She watched us carefully, not allowing us to mingle with the wrong company, insisting that we get good grades and keeping television watching down to a mere one hour per day. Since she loved national and international news, we could watch the news along with her which included in-depth analysis which we were invited to participate. She enjoyed hearing our opinions and teaching us about world events.

Nightly reading and family prayer were essential to our childhood. She spent her last buying books and encyclopedias for us and every Christmas gift and birthday present included a book of some kind. When we heard that familiar song, "Remember Me, Oh Lord, Remember Me," we knew that was the call to prayer and no matter where you were or what you were doing, each of us respectively and respectfully stopped and followed the lovely voice for prayer. It is prayer that enabled us to finish college, become entrepreneurs and professionals, and enter the ministry full-time. In fact, we are all, in spite of our various professions, in ministry as pastors, evangelists, and missionaries. I guess we all went to Seminary of Delores Lee Ellis; her very life was such.