Samson and Delilah
“How many kids would you like to have?” Samson whispered, nibbling Delilah’s ear.
She laughed. “That depends on how much you’d love me when I’m out of shape.”
Samson laughed harder. “You’ll always be beautiful to me, Del. And I don’t see you ever going out of shape. So I’ll ask again—how many kids would you like to have?”
Delilah lifted her head from his shoulder. They lay side by side on the grass, an open field stretching endlessly around them. She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary. “You go first. How many kids do you want?”
“You don’t want to have my kids, do you?” Samson’s broad grin softened into a small, uncertain smile.
Delilah rolled her eyes and tapped him with her fingertips before resting her head back on his shoulder. “You’re a drama king, petty and attention-seeking by all means. Just answer the question, okay?”
He narrowed his eyes, studying her face. “Five.”
“Five?” She sat up. “From how many concubines?”
“Just you.” He stroked her chin gently, easing her concern. “How many princes and princesses would you want, my Queen?”
“One would be fine for me,” she said thoughtfully, “and I want a boy, so he looks like his father.”
“His father?” Samson sounded wounded. “Not me?”
“What?” She frowned, brows knitting.
“That’s too generic. You’re supposed to say, ‘so he looks just like you.’”
Delilah scoffed. “Oh please, Samson. We aren’t married. I don’t want a child out of wedlock. You know our customs and traditions.”
“Who says I won’t marry you?”
“You have too many women in your life,” she replied softly. “I want to be the only woman. I don’t share what is mine.”
“And you will be,” Samson insisted.
“Easier said than done. Besides, we’re from different cities. You’re expected to marry within your tribe.”
“I’m all yours, Delilah,” he said, pulling her closer. “Do with me as you please. I can protect you from any opposition and give you the life you deserve.”
He inhaled the scent of her hair as her silky dress brushed his skin. She smelled of aloes: of Gilead’s florals, Somali myrrh, Ethiopian frankincense. Her hair rivaled the beauty of Indian damsels; her skin was as milky as wool, as smooth as a tranquil river. Her eyes—vast as a roaring ocean—pulled him under. He was lost in their depth.
To him, the finest wine flowed from her lips. He kissed her, intoxicated by the savour of her mouth, as though it were brewed liquor meant to be tasted slowly. He wanted her wholly. And if making her the mother of his children was the surest way to keep her, he was ready.
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ORATOR:
And that, my friends, is how most parents selfishly bring children into the world.
Carried away by beauty, greed, infatuation, urges, and hormones, they see women as trophies and conquests. Women see men as a social ladder. This happens across genders. Children become unbreakable padlocks—tools for erasing shame, securing inheritance, enforcing commitment, or guaranteeing child support. Children are objectified.
So they arrive without careful planning, without earnest provision, without a clear blueprint for wellness and care. “Let them come and complete the family,” they say. And the children are born into poverty, instability, chaos, delusion, neglect, abandonment, insecurity—little or no protection.
They grow up in financial or emotional lack, watching both parents become walking dreams that never materialize. Divorce sets in. Fights erupt. Separation follows. Children are split apart and turned into weapons of war.
“Mommy, I want to see my daddy.”
“Shut your mouth! Your father abandoned you and ran off with his mistress.”
“Daddy, I want to see my mommy.”
“I’m busy. Your stepmother will take you to school today. And if your mother comes around, don’t listen to her. I’m not speaking ill of her, but she isn’t very honest.”
Some children are born straight into separation—baby mama, baby daddy. You hear people say:
“I don’t want to get married. I just need someone to make babies for me.”
Single parenting is not complacency. Every child needs both parents to be whole. That is why we have two hands, two legs, two hemispheres of the brain. One can function with one arm, but how much more efficient with two?
As a parent, your responsibility is your child’s well-being. It is not enough to have money and assume readiness for family life. You must be mentally prepared. Learn parental availability. Money does not instill discipline or morals: presence and guidance do.
Parents are the bedrock of the family, and family is the foundation of society.
Today, many children roam the streets trying to survive. Boys stealing, girls selling their bodies. Circumstances forced them to bruise their conscience. It is not that they do not know right from wrong; they are trying to make their parents proud, to care for their loved ones.
Your first responsibility is not only to marry someone you love, but someone like-minded: responsible, loyal, faithful, and dependable.
Your second responsibility is to plan: your home, your finances, your family, your growth. Ask yourself; how many children do I want? Why do I want them? Because it’s “normal,” or because I have a purpose and a safe haven prepared?
Plan for their welfare: clothing, education, feeding, health. Think about their future paths. You don’t have to choose their careers for them, but you must guide them. Study parenting if you are clueless. Learn the stages of growth and how to navigate them: puberty, adolescence, teenage years.
Envision the kind of adults you want your children to become, and train them accordingly. Inculcate values: respect, discipline, virtue, decency, and self-control.
Shower your children with affection. Befriend them. Know them personally. Have soul-piercing conversations. Touch them; hug them, play with them. Water their self-esteem with affirmation and praise. If you don’t show them love, they will search for it elsewhere, in wrong associations, bad company, destructive peer groups, even cults... simply to feel accepted.
Above all, pray for your children and guard your home, so you may truly become 'One Big, Happy Family.'

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