Made in China

I've got a dozen ideas rolling around in my head and no time to write. Such is the December life in a family with two musicians and one ballerina.

While driving this evening to my job playing a Christmas extravaganza at what our son calls The Starbucks Church (another potential post), I spied this bumper sticker:

Made in China
Loved in America

The bottom of the bumper sticker had the website address of a popular local adoption agency that specializes in adoptions from China.

As the mother of two children adopted from Korea, I found this very offensive. What do most people think of when they hear the term, Made in China? Especially nowadays, they think lead poisoning, unhealthy, inferior, cheap, tacky, destined for the trash heap, etc.

The precious babies that are conceived, carried, and placed for adoption in a country with a barbaric one-child policy are none of these things. They are human beings, created in the image of God. In addition, I daresay that the vast majority of them were very loved. They just happened to be the wrong gender in a country where only one child is allowed, and a son will be the one to care for you when you're older.

Dear Lord, I pray your special blessing on orphans, their birth families (especially the birth mothers), and their adoptive families.

"Wake, Awake"

First Sunday of Advent

I wish I could have sung this hymn today. It is one of the recommended hymns to accompany today's scripture readings. The fact that it's composed by J.S. Bach is usually a guarantee that it goes straight to my "Favorites" list!

Part of the hymn includes these words:

Ah come, Thou blessèd One, God’s own belovèd Son:
Alleluia! We follow till the halls we see
Where Thou hast bid us sup with Thee.

Before I was a Christian, I knew that Christmas was a celebration of the birth of Jesus. My family put up our creche every year. The one we made at the church we attended when I was ages 9-11. But I didn't understand who He was, why He had to come, and certainly not why He had to die and be resurrected.

Each Christmas as I get older, I am afforded more and more glimpses into the answers to these questions.

May I continue to marvel in the miracle of the Baby Who came to die for me and may I learn what it means to follow Him.

(Don't forget to first turn off the blog music by scrolling down on the right. Then you can go to the link above and hear the hymn played and read all verses. Illustration above is of Johann S. Bach in his earlier years.)