I remember our road trips to New York when I was young. We had a family of five, so there were three of us in the back of a Mazda GLC and lots of territorial fighting; “That’s my space you’re in!” we would cry, or “Why do I have to sit on the hump?” would be a frequent complaint. I vowed then and there that I would never have a family of five. Time, though, has a way of softening our youthful vows, and here I am the father of three in a family of five, a decent group by American standards and certainly when it comes to the limits of my patience.
What would I do with one more? Two? How about 8 more? I can’t event imagine. Yet LARGE families seem to be a standard, especially when we head outside of Mérida. The picture above can be translated, “The Store of the 11 Brothers.” Imagine the situations that a family of that size could get into! The kicker was what happened as I was trying to get the photo. One of my students, unimpressed, said, “I come from a family of 13 brothers and sisters.”
Speaking of heading out of Mérida, say a prayer for us this weekend as I lead a group of students from the Bible Institute for a two-day campaign in the city of Tekax (Teh-cash).
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