Redheaded Sarah was my five-year-old Steven’s babysitter one chilly December night. It was our practice to read the Bible before bedtime, so Sarah opened the well-worn pages to pick up where we had left off in Nehemiah 7 –the long list of family names that returned from Exile to rebuild Jerusalem. Parosh. Shephatiah. Zaccai.
She stumbled through the names as both laughed and giggled at her attempts. Read more…











