Scott Simon — the sonorous voice of NPR’s “Weekend Edition” — has written a short, tender book about the two most important people in the world. At least to him. “Baby, We Were Meant for Each Other” recounts the arrival of his two daughters, Elise and Lina, from China, while telling the stories of other families changed by adoption.

Simon describes himself as skeptical of transcendence but as taking part in a miracle. “My wife and I,” he says, “knew that Elise and Lina were our babies from the moment we received their postage-stamp portraits. Logically, I know that’s not possible. But I also know that’s how my heart, mind and body . . . reacted to their pictures. . . . I would take the photo out of my wallet in the weeks before we left to get each of our girls and hold it against my lips to whisper, ‘We’re coming, baby.’ ”

It is an unexpected form of human affection — meeting an unrelated stranger and, within moments, being willing to care for her, even to die for her. The relationship results from a broken bond but creates ties as strong as genetics, stronger than race or tribe. It is a particularly generous kind of parental love that embraces a life one did not give.

International adoption has its critics, who allege a kind of imperialism that robs children of their identity. Simon responds, “We have adopted real, modern little girls, not mere vessels of a culture.” Ethnicity is an abstraction — often an admirable abstraction, but not comparable to the needs of a child living in an orphanage or begging in roving bands. Adopted Chinese girls are refugees from a terrible oppression — a one-child policy that Simon calls “one of the great crimes of history.” Every culture or race is outweighed when the life of a child is placed on the other side of the balance.

It is one of the noblest things about America that we care for children of other lands who have been cast aside. Simon recalls his encounter with an immigration officer in Chicago when bringing Elise to America: ” ‘When you cross that line,’ he said, ‘your little girl is a citizen of the United States.’ Then he put one of his huge hands gently under our daughter’s chin and smiled. ‘Welcome home, sweetheart,’ he told her.” This welcome to the world is one of the great achievements of history. After millennia of racial and ethnic conflict across the world, resulting in rivers of blood, America declared that bloodlines don’t matter, that dignity is found beneath every human disguise. There is no greater embrace of this principle than an American family that looks like the world.

Instead of undermining any culture, international adoption instructs our own. Unlike the thin, quarrelsome multiculturalism of the campus, multiethnic families demonstrate the power of affection over difference. They tend to produce people who may look different from the norm of their community but see themselves as just normal, just human.

Every adoption involves a strange providence, in which events and choices are random yet decisive. “Those of us who have been adopted,” says Simon, “or have adopted or want to adopt children, must believe in a world in which the tumblers of the universe can click in unfathomable ways that deliver strangers into our lives.”

As we come up on a year with Emily, these were good thoughts to chew on.

Gregg went to Puebla, Mexico on a church trip where he and three other guys, encouraged our missionaries there, helped to paint a school and teach English at a VBS outreach.  He got to climb a pyramid or two as well.

Karen took the kids to visit her cousin Carol in Washington, where dinosaurs roam.

Emily and Andy enjoyed various weekends checking out the local farm life . . .

Bouncing on trampolines . . .

and Running through the sprinklers (well mostly standing).

All in all a good time

Emily celebrated her first fourth of July as an American citizen  yesterday, and we think she had a good time.  We told her it was America’s birthday, but since she is so excited for her own birthday (still four months away), she would regular tell people it was her birthday.  After church we headed out to a friends house for a BBQ, and some “volleyball”.  It was a nice afternoon.  Our little girl was very frightened when the first firework was set off, but bravely held a sparkler as long as daddy was close.  After the BBQ, we walked a few blocks from our home to a field that looks out towards the high school.  The city of Sandy does a firework show every year at the high school, and we had great seats.  Andy fell asleep during the firework show, and then tried to convince me later that he wasn’t tired.  All in all it was a great day.

For Emily the adventure was all brand new, and she stuck close.  She loved getting out on the water in a canoe or kayak, and she loved playing on the playground.  Occassionally, she would ask, “We go home now”, and one can only wonder what was going through her head.  One of my favorite memories was when she stopped in front of a trail of ants, and would go no further presumably because she was afraid of stepping over the bugs.  Anyways, here’s some pics.  There’s not many because we are lame parents who always forget to pull out the camera.

As Andy and I admired the snake, Karen and Emily kept their distance and eventually we carried on with our hunt for geocaches.  We had a fantastic hike down the bluff to the Sandy River, and capped off the time with a trip to Dairy Queen.  Later in the afternoon, Andy and I again headed to the park and after rooting around found a few more snakes to share with mom.

These are Andy’s hands – which should give you a sense on how large & vicious these snakes are.

Currently, these are Emily’s favorite words.  I’m not even sure where she learned them, but would have to conclude that it was probably from me or Karen giving a less than clear answer.  Suffice to say, she has come to use these two words multiple times in a day usually when she has been told no.

“Can I have some gum?”  No! “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Can I go in Andy’s room?”  No!  “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Can I take a shower?” Not right now, we are leaving.  “Maybe tomorrow?”

Emily, leave the cat alone.  “Why?”  Because it’s trying to sleep.  “Maybe tomorrow, I can pet it?”

“Can I have some water (she gets cut off from liquids at 6:00 pm, to spare the midnight sheet changing episodes)?”  No more tonight, sweetie.  “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Dad, where you go?”  To the store.  “To the store, can I come?”  Not this time.  “Maybe tomorrow?”

Emily, don’t touch the knife.  “Why?”  Because it can hurt you.  “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Can we go grandma and papas?”  In a few days, we will see them.  “Maybe tomorrow?”

Maybe tomorrow . . .

We spent Friday driving through the gorge, and stopping at the kid friendly places along the way including the Bonneville Dam where the fish ladder was seemingly devoid of fish or sea lions, and the fish hatchery there at the dam where we fed the rainbow trout, and either marveled or recoiled in disgust at the huge sturgeon they have swimming in their ponds (this depended completely on one’s gender).

On Saturday we drove up to Olympia, WA to spend the day with our friends Paul, Callie, Kayla, Kelsi, & Logan Jones.  It was great catching up with them, and hearing all that God is doing in their church where Paul pastors.

Little Mermaids

Herman the Sturgeon

Multnomah Falls, and the ever serious Chastain clan