I remember being a kid, sitting in the church pew, and hearing this commandment. I remember looking over at my mom who was giving me a look that said, “Did you hear that?” I probably rolled my eyes because I thought God was backing her up on the whole 8 p.m. bedtime and doing my chores thing. Back then, that’s what honoring my parents meant: obeying them and following the rules. And sure, maybe that’s part of honoring– listening, heeding, and abiding. But it goes deeper than the age-old “because I said so” mentality that we’ve attached to that idea.

My mom has been cleaning out the basement of her house. How do I know? Over the past week, I’ve gotten numerous texts asking if I want her to keep or send me certain childhood items to pass onto any children I may have one day. Disney VHS tapes, college decor, you name it. Well, one item she texted me, she knew I’d want to keep: the picture Bible that I’d always kept as a child. What I didn’t remember, was that someone very special had gifted that Bible to me: my Nana Jennie.

When I was a kid, I was always confused as to why Jesus was considered a part of Joseph’s bloodline. I mean, Jesus and Joseph shared no physical blood. Jesus was conceived with no participation from Joseph, so how could the Bible claim Jesus as a part of Joseph’s lineage?