I don't quite know where it went wrong. How did my parents - who have never shown me anything but love - raise someone like me to not have any sense of family? And it's funny (or pathetic, depending on how you look at it), I was chatting to my sister about this - and feeling guilty for not feeling guilty - and I said how did the two of us turn out like this, when she indignantly responded, What do you mean two of us?! to which I then laughed, and quickly retracted.
-- Okay, okay, I'm sorry. One of us.
-- No, no! I meant the four of us.
To which we both dissolved into guilty giggles.
Last night, I read Galatians 6 and then before I fell asleep, I was thanking Jesus for my warm bed and for my family... and then this morning (or afternoon, actually) when I woke up, it actually occurred to me to wonder how the hell I can be Christian (so-called, anyway) and yet have no sense real love for the family. I mean I love my parents and my siblings, but beyond that, I just don't connect. Haiii.
Family. I love my family, though I really don't show it at all. Sigh.
God bless my family.
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