When I was younger, my father worked at a steady, but not well paying government job. We never had a lot extra, but we always had sufficient for our needs. Many viewing my father's salary would have thought him foolish to have all of those children. My mother gave birth to twelve children; one was stillborn, and one, my only younger sibling, died when he was five months old. My parents never let their children stop them. In fact my mother babysat others, including two of my nieces, and they adopted one of their many foster children, who was, incidentally, born on the exact same day as my stillborn brother.

Many people with varying degrees of sensitivity have asked me if I would have rather have had fewer siblings. To give them credit, they had no way of knowing that I had already lost two brothers, and that my younger brother I have always missed very keenly. Usually I would gently remind them that as I was the youngest, fewer would have meant without me. Some intrepid, and less acute souls persisted, "Not you, but still fewer?" What?! Do they want me to choose which of my siblings I find disposable? Am I supposed to say, "Well, her, I don't like her today. We should get rid of her." How horrible!

But, I suppose I do know their real question-- do I regret growing up in a large family? The short answer is no! Honestly I wish that my parents had had more than just us. I always wanted more siblings. I hated being the youngest. When I was a child I swore that I would never have a youngest child. Everyone needs lots of siblings both older and younger and youngest children don't have half of what they need. (For the record, I feel sorry for oldest children too for the same reason. I just never came up with a solution for those other than to have them closely spaced.) I would just adopt after I couldn't have any more children; adopt and keep adopting.

As I grew I had to acknowledge that my plan of adopting ad infinitum had a flaw. I just decided to adopt twins at the end. It never entered my mind that I could have multiples...

The question that everyone asks today is "How many is too many?" Some choose not to have any children, some decide that one or two are sufficient. Many cite the starving children in Africa as a reason to have fewer children. I laugh. There is plenty and to spare. I do not begrudge those children food, but for all of those people who piously spout starving children, do any of them send all the money they would have spent on their own child each year to Africa? No. The real reason for limiting family size can only be selfishness. However, the arguments of money have taken hold in this most wealthy of nations. I now hear a large family being defined as three with four being a very large family. The first time I heard that definition, my jaw dropped and my eyeballs popped. You must remember that I am one of eleven living. To me, that is NORMAL. I pity my husband who is one of only six. I have always schemed to have more than the eight or nine that I thought would be my lot.

I was distressed by how late I got married (almost 24! Quite the old maid) because I thought that it would limit my children again. With the years of infertility and miscarriages, I mourned even more. Adoption became not just an idea for after I was finished, but we openly discussed adopting all through our own biological children, interracial adoption and many other issues. For the record, let me state that I do not believe that adoption is a second rate way. It is just a different way. I love the idea of adoption, of bringing in more children. We still intend to pursue it, though perhaps it is on hold for a few more years.

I truly believe that each child is a beloved son or daughter of God, a prince or princess in His kingdom. He sends us to earth to learn, grow and learn to make good choices, to choose to become more like Him. I believe there is no higher work that I can do than to be a mother. There is nothing I love more. How many blessings until you are too blessed? Impossible I say. Children are an unmixed blessing, a joy to have and treasure. I do not see them as a financial burden. They are rather eternal wealth.

When I was young, my father took me into our rather extensive library and said, "There are only two things that you can take with you, your family, and what is in your head. That is where we have chosen to put our money." My father is the wisest man I know. I choose now that is where we will put our money, I choose to invest in eternity.