Taking Hebron

When you have a big family you get a lot of comments. Some kind, some not so kind. Some people share personal things about themselves with you because they understand and know you would understand them. Others speak out like your a joke, because they don't understand.  One of the most common comments I hear is "You sure got your hands full!"  These words are usually spoken with a tone of pity, indicating how they view children. As a burden, annoying, bothersome.  I don't see my siblings like that, nor do my parents. Sure we're busy, and things can get pretty wild sometimes with this many little people running around! But it's a joy having this much life surrounding you. If someone were to pass the Father (God) at the grocery store they might say the same thing. "You sure got Your hands full!" And He smiles and says "Yep, that's just how I like it." When I started this journey with the Lord I planned on being the wor

"But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For He is kind to the unthankful and evil. Luke 6:35 I recently purchased two gifts for two of my siblings. It wasn't a birthday or a holiday, I just saw these two stuffed animals at the store and knew they would LOVE them!  When I gave the gifts to them my one sibling was simply delighted with the gift they had received but the other wasn't, showing through hinting words that they liked their siblings gift better than their own. This was a rather disappointing response for me, since I had been certain they'd both love the items I'd picked out. Still I dealt with my disappointment and forgave them.  Yet later I sought for the Lord to teach me as I felt sad for my second sibling. Instead of rejoicing in what they had received they had robbed themselves by not being thankful.  How many times do I do the same

The other night my dad took my 3 year old brother's hand and started up the stairs to get him ready for bed. A few steps up they stopped, noticing something small and green laying on the stair. My dad casually told my brother to pick it up. I watched for a moment as a strange silence followed. My little brother reached out for it, but wasn't picking it up. I didn't know what was going on until I saw his troubled face. Soon he started to cry in distress still seeming to be unable to pick up the little green object. My dad told him repeatedly to pick it up and that it wouldn't hurt him. It was just a piece of grass. Still my brother struggled, reaching out his hand but stopping just short. He was terrified despite my father's reassurance.  Finally he picked up the piece of grass and they walked over to the garbage to throw it away. As my dad wiped my little brother's face off with a tissue, he pointed out the fact that the grass hadn't hurt him just lik