Years ago I was teaching Sunday School, and we were considering the promises given to Abraham of posterity (Abraham 3:14) and the responsibilities and blessings his posterity would have.
As a visual aid, I brought a picture of our family taken the year we began. It has 11 people in it. Then I showed a picture taken of our family 11 years later, which shows 22 people. A class member busied himself with a pocket calculator (no smart phones in those days), and after a few minutes raised his hand to announce how many people would be in my family if we maintained that growth rate for 1000 years. I was too stunned to write down the multi-million figure. Suddenly we were all able to imagine how that “sands-of-the-sea” promise could be fulfilled.

Before Geoffrey’s funeral, our family gathered outside the church for pictures. Our family now includes our literal posterity and their partners, many of our foster children and their eventual new families, and some individuals and families who have “adopted” us and become an essential part of our family. I’m honored to know and love them all.
The photo of “the whole family” doesn’t include 26 who couldn’t be there, but the other 67 of us make quite a crowd! It’s caused me to wonder, and to ponder.

Some things I’ve learned (and some I already knew):
Everyone belongs! Just as Grandma hugs, family dinners, and Jeana’s tech support are available to each family member whether we begat or just claimed them, saints are eligible for the blessings of Abraham whether our DNA or our personal commitment made us his posterity (Abraham 2:10).
Love expands! When I held my first baby I felt like my entire capacity for love was focused right there. I love her not a bit less today- and all the others as much! Amazing! Now I have a tiny glimpse of how God’s love can be so all inclusive and yet so precisely personal.
As I look at our photo, I see real mortal people, who have challenges, pressures, disability, talents, confusion, faith, and doubt. None of us are perfect. Some have made choices that grieve me. Often, I’ve wished I could lift a burden, suffer a pain, change a choice or remove a consequence. But it isn’t my right to do that. It’s just my privilege to love them while they learn and experience life.

And oh, I do! neither because of, or in spite of, their current situation, I just love them! They’re mine. Now, it’s easy for me to understand that I can’t “earn” or “deserve” God’s love. He loves me, because of who He is, and because I’m his child.