one million wanted

One million.
That is the number of people living in Minneapolis (roughly) times three.

But last year one million were prevented from ever learning how to ride a bike, from making snow angels in the snow, writing their name or blowing out birthday candles.

That is one million pre-born babies who will never see the light of day because of lies that the Father of Lies loves to promote. Lies about the definition of convenience. Lies about assumed disabilities. Lies about the definition of the quality of life.

Unwanted?

Would someone be courageous enough to publicly on national media to announce that no child is ever, ever, ever unwanted? Ever. There is no such thing. There is always someone, maybe not so very far away or hard to locate, who would provide a home for the baby or toddler or adolescent whose birth parent cannot provide for.

After all, their Heavenly Father, the One who has made no mistake in their existence, is also Sovereign and is in complete control of well, everything.

Azariah might have been a prime candidate for extinction before he was born. He was born with methamphetamine in his system. God only knows what else he was exposed to prior to his birth. And while his life wasn't worth a change in lifestyle for his birth parents, God has two parents picked out who waited in a Wal-Mart parking lot for the blizzard to clear and the interstate to re-open so they could take him home.

Sometimes God takes 14 years. Today, a 14-year-old Chinese-soon-to-be-American girl will find out that she moves into the "wanted" category - her adoption papers have been cleared. On Monday, God willing, she'll meet her parents and two of her 12 siblings. In a few weeks, maybe less or more, she'll get on a jet plane with her new parents and fly home. When she gets home, she'll have five Danish-German siblings, three Ethiopian, two Guatemalan and one Chinese.

And what am I doing? Not much.

I keep hoping I will be more patient with the children I have been already given in the near future. That I will bellow less about their hopeless messes everywhere. That I will flip out less when they are sick. That I will be more organized and less scatter-brained. That I will be able to hone some skill useful in the cause of defending life.

I can buy diapers for the pregnancy resource center. I can read and weep about the statistics of death.

But is there anymore I can do? Perhaps.