My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

Archives for December 2016

the amazing grace in Silent Night

Everything was set. Together, the team had planned exactly what they were going to do and were excited about it. Surely, this would be their best team effort ever. They arrived to the village where they would be serving on December 23rd. But, there was a problem, a big problem. The St. Nicholas’ church organ wasn’t working and would not be repaired before Christmas. What would they do now? They needed the organ. Their entire plan rested on the music of that organ. Had someone told them about the broken organ as the team planned for this trip, they could have prepared. They could have brought other instruments or changed the plans somehow. Maybe they would have gone somewhere else entirely to a different church that would have the organ they needed. But, they were here now with no time to change the plan. Christmas was only two days away. They had to press on. They’d still offer the programs they had planned as close to the original plans as possible; but it would all take place in someone’s home instead. It wasn’t what they wanted, but it would have to work. Those who came enjoyed it; those who pulled it off shrugged their shoulders and struggled. It wasn’t all they had wanted to be. They trusted that God would redeem what seemed mediocre.

Josef Mohr was struggling too. He was one of the pastors at the organ-less church. He had so wanted to give those he shepherded more this Christmas. But, he just felt the church didn’t have enough; he wasn’t enough. Inviting this foreign team to come was his last effort to give his church something more. What they arrived and saw there was no organ, he was sure that this would be another failure. But, they rallied. They somehow pulled together and changed the plan and gave his church something remarkable after all. He didn’t see it as mediocre at all.

Josef remembered something he himself had planned years earlier. It was just a simple poem he had written in a moment of inspiration. He had never done anything more with it. But, if that team can do something beautiful in the face of a broken organ, maybe he could too. He dug out that old poem and took it to Franz Xaver Gruber who had been the church organist when they had had an organ that worked. He told him about the foreign team and his desire to be like them and redeem setbacks for good.

A few hours later, Josef and Franz welcomed people into the organ-less church where Franz stood in front of the pews facing the people instead of sitting with his back to them at an organ. He played a tune on his guitar that he had just created and sang the words Josef had written.

Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Savior is born!
Christ the Savior is born.

Silent night, holy night!
Son of God love’s pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.

200 years after Franz sang those lyrics for the first time for his tiny little church in a tiny little village in Austria, we’re still singing them here in our own living room with my son Drew who is just learning to strum and in classrooms in China as teachers explain to students how Americans celebrate our most important holiday of the year.

A broken organ. A leader who felt unable. A man who couldn’t do what he was hired to do. A team of people who felt called to a little place no one else really wanted to go, doubted that calling when they discovered what looked like a major setback, but rallied to be obedient within the context they were given. A series of events that looked like challenges that could ruin something good that instead were opportunities that led to one of the most beautiful creative expressions celebrating what God did for His people through Christmas.

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Art for Ayis

I had an idea.

I was up early this morning, making a list and checking it twice. But, this list wasn’t a Christmas list; it was the list of gifts we are taking to China when we leave on January 6th. Mark’s been home from China for four days, and I’m already packing our bags to go again. We’re heading to South China on this trip, to an orphanage in Guangdong province that has never had a team there before.

It’s considered a small orphanage with about 150 children in their care. And, while they are not new to adoption, they haven’t placed many kids until now. But, they’re partners with a good agency now and are on board with making children paper ready, even kids they thought were too old or too sick or too something. And, we get to go in and encourage them in what they are doing.

As I was counting out the gifts for ayis and the ladies who work in the office and the directors and the foster moms, I had an idea. Wouldn’t it be neat to give them something from a child adopted from China that just blesses them? Something that sends the message that children adopted from China are okay and that what they do to serve those kids now matters…wouldn’t that be great?

I’ve come to discover that good ideas don’t always come at convenient times. And, today is hardly a convenient day as mamas everywhere are scurrying around to Target for stocking stuffers and making cookies for class parties and using up all their Scotch tape wrapping boxes. But, some things are worth some inconvenience. This might be one of those things.

Here’s what I need:
a piece of artwork on card stock, an index card, or watercolor paper no larger than 5″x8″
a printed photo of the artist with his or her name written on the back, the year he or she was adopted and from where (e.g., “Sam Smith, adopted from Guangzhou in 2010”)

Mail no later than December 31st for an arrival of no later than January 4th to:
The Sparrow Fund
124 3rd Ave
Phoenixville PA 19460

Questions? Email me. Help us bless these people and magnify the good.

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To the foster father of Z—- Chun Min

I know you as the orphanage driver. When our teams arrive to serve there, it is you who they meet first. It is your smile and hearty head nods that put them at ease. It is your offer to take their heavy bags and have a rest that lets them know they are welcome before they ever arrive at the orphanage gate. And, when they do, it is you who has safely brought them there.

You serve a very important role everyday. Everyday, you drive, taking leaders to meetings and taking nannies to trainings. You also take children to school as a parent would, scurrying to make sure they are on time and nudging them along when they are dragging their feet. Of all the streets you drive everyday, I know there’s one route you know very well–the drive to Xi’an. Many Sunday mornings, you drive an seemingly ordinary way for extraordinary purposes as you drive a child to meet his or her mommy and daddy for the very first time. I wish I could sit down with you over a cup of milk tea and ask you lots of questions and listen to your stories. I’m sure you have so many to tell.

I also know there’s one story that you’d tell me first and come back to over and over again. I know because it was on one of those drives to the orphanage one morning when I learned that you hadn’t always been the orphanage driver. You had been a Baba.

I saw you hand a photo album to our translator. And, I heard her Chinese “ahh”s as she flipped through it and then read some English words silently and told you something in Chinese. I saw you wipe your eyes as you smiled in response. I’m sure you had heard those words translated before. But, you clearly wanted to hear them again, the words she had put in the photo album she gave you a few years ago when she visited China as a girl: “Thank you for taking care of me when I was a baby and treating me like your own daughter. Love, Erin R—– (Z—- Chun Min).”

It was years ago, more than 10…maybe 12, that you said goodbye to a child you loved. She was still a baby when she left, just over a year old, you told me. And, for that year, she had been yours. In fact, you told me you had nearly held her in your arms for an entire year, you and your wife never letting her feet touch the ground. Your face lit up when you talked about her and as you showed me pictures you had of her on your phone, pictures of pictures I’m sure hang on your walls at home. You waited with bated breath when you asked me if I knew her.

From the way you talked about her, I wish I did because she sounds like she was an amazing little girl who is now a young lady somewhere. I know you want me to find her family so you can talk to her again. And, maybe, just maybe, I will. But, if I cannot, I want to make sure you hear a few words from me.

I’m not Chun Min’s mama; but, I am a mama to a little girl who was also nurtured by others until she was my little girl. I often think of those who bathed her and bounced her when she was fussy. I think of those who smiled when she cooed and tried their best to give her all she needed while doing the same for more than 20 other babies in her room. I think of those who propped her up on a pillow and took her picture for a file of papers that would be sent to Beijing so she could leave with a family. And, I think of the man who shopped for a pretty little going away outfit for her when the time was right and of the woman who tied all the strings on it that morning as they got into the orphanage van to drive on the same roads you drive now to meet us for the first time. Oh, if I could gather all those people in one place at one time, I’d show them pictures after pictures of our little girl and tell them that all they did for her everyday mattered. I’d tell them that what they do everyday for every child matters.

I know it is hard to not know where she is and what she is like and if she remembers you. I know you wonder if her family would ever welcome you in just to share a meal. I hope they would. But, I don’t know that. It can be hard for some parents and for some children to bring all the parts of their stories together. And, having a relationship with you, even from the other side of the world, might not be what is best for her and for them right now. But, I want you to know that what you did for her mattered, how you loved her well for that first year of her life truly mattered. You have played a part in her becoming the young lady she is now even if she doesn’t remember you the way you remember her.

When saying goodbye to her broke your heart, you decided not to foster a child again. That makes sense to me. But, even now, you have opportunities everyday to love children who are not your own well. Press on in that and know that every smile, every head nod, every “have a good day at school,” every quiet or not so quiet drive to and from a hospital, and every goodbye is an opportunity to do something that matters and changes the world as you show a child that he or she matters and can change the world.

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Overthinking Christmas Gifts {the story behind the gifts under our tree}

From the very start of our parenting careers when we had a 9-month old celebrating his first Christmas with us, we’ve done Christmas gifting a bit atypically than most. And, pretty much every year since, we’ve been asked to share it. There was no blogosphere back in the olden days of 2002; we shared about it…well…with words…like aloud. But, since the whole blogging thing became a thing and then Pinterest and all those other platforms on the world wide Interweb, I’ve been sharing about our tradition in real words and virtual words. I don’t want to try to convince you that you need to do it too. No need for that. But, maybe part of it will resonate with you and you can put your own spin on it to do Christmas a bit atypically too.

xmas-tree-2016-1-2It all started because we wanted gifts to really mean something. All gifts do really. We know that. They are a way to bless and show people they matter. But, we wanted something more than what gift giving could become. We wanted gift giving to be an opportunity for shepherding our children. And, so, we decided we would give them 3 gifts. That’s it. 3 gifts. From us. Not from Santa. From Mom and Dad. And, these three gifts symbolize those of the wise men. Each year, before we open gifts, we read the Christmas story, emphasizing the wise men who sought out Jesus, the incarnate God, sharing the significance of each individual gift they brought to baby Jesus before they open their three gifts.

The wise men brought Jesus myrrh. 
Myrrh was a valuable gift of practical use—it was used medicinally for all sorts of ailments from coughs to open wounds. It was a good gift to bring a mother of a new baby. It was something she could use to care for her baby well. And, it demonstrated the gift giver’s concern and hope that the baby would be healthy and have every one of his needs met. It was also used for something else though; it was used for embalming and anointing the dead. And, so, it was a prophetic gift, meaning that it showed people something that was to come in the future, already setting up the Gospel story from the beginning. God’s son would have to die.

Our children’s first gift is a practical gift, something they can use, that meets a need they have—a piece of clothing, some sheets for their bed, a bike helmet, something like that. Sometimes they get excited about this one; sometimes they aren’t as excited. But, we make sure they know that we are giving it to show them our love for them and our hope that they will be cared for well and that all their needs will be met.

The wise men brought Jesus frankincense.
Frankincense is the purest form of incense and was used in worship. When burned, its white smoke and sweet smell would symbolize prayers going up to heaven. It creates a meaningful experience for the one who uses it as well as everyone else around. Like the first gift, it’s also symbolic and prophetic. Jesus is little like Frankincense. He is fully God, Emmanuel, God with us, and the only way to heaven. Because of Him, we can have a relationship with God and talk to him in prayer directly.

Our children’s second gift, likewise, is an experiential gift, something not tangible but something meaningful to us as a family—tickets to some sort of show or a special movie (ahem…Star Wars perhaps), a night out at the ball park, something like that. One year, we gave our horse-loving toddler a “pony ride” which simply involved a trip to Aunt Charlotte’s house where she got to ride her horse in a circle. She loved it. This gift may or may not cost a whole lot (it even could be free), but the value of it is precious. Typically, I make up some sort of graphic on the computer that is like a gift certificate for whatever their specific experience gift is and give it to them in an envelope along with a business card, ticket, or brochure for the event if there is something like that. These are the gifts our children remember year to year and often cost us the least.

The wise men brought Jesus gold.
Gold was as valuable then as it is now. It was a precious and sacrificial gift on the part of the wise men who gave it. Some say this gold paid for the holy family’s trip to Egypt that they took right away to protect Jesus’ life. Just like the other gifts, it was also a very symbolic gift in that gold was a gift given to princes when they were born. And, that is what Jesus is—royalty, a King in the line of David, King of the world, King of the whole universe, and King of our hearts. When we become a follower of Jesus, we are adopted into God’s family and we too become princes and princesses, heirs to the throne. We don’t deserve it; no matter how good we are, we won’t ever be good enough to deserve it. But, because of Jesus, God sees us like He sees His own Son. He sees us as His children. And, we become more and more like Him.

Our children’s third and last gift is a gold gift, something they really really want (or we think they’d really want). Sometimes these gifts are a little more costly—like a sweet new scooter or a bow and arrow set complete with a quiver. And, sometimes, they really aren’t costly at all, but just something we know they really want, something that is like gold to them (three years ago, the boys’ gold gifts came from Craigslist and cost a grand total of $25 put together—secondhand pet box turtles). It’s the gift that it’s logical or maybe makes sense. It’s the gift that we just want to give to them because we love them and want to bless them. And, we tell them so before we give them.

Of course, they have grandparents and aunts and uncles, all of whom do a good job of blessing our children with little packages of varied material value. And, we encourage them to choose small gifts for each other that they pay for with their own money which is a great opportunity for shepherding in and of itself. This year, our children sold a few things they no longer needed and did chores to make the money they needed to buy specific gifts they wanted to give each other. So, yes, they do actually get more than 3 gifts on Christmas. Deprived they are not. But, even if they didn’t, we’d do what we do with 3 gifts only because we have experienced the blessing it is to all of us–each one of them individually, us as their parents, and the unity of the family.

 

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