He wears hand-me-down clothes and smiles at me. He is only two-months-old, but when I laugh, he copies my sound. I tell the children to handle him gently, but they insist on getting close to his face. They fight among themselves to be the one he notices.

As I study him, I can’t help but think of the privilege he enjoys. He will have his mother’s attention all day long. When he is older and looks to the bleachers, there will always be a crowd. He will be rocked to sleep on his mother’s breast, never knowing that the method is outdated. He will never recall the day when he first heard about Jesus, as they were the songs he heard in the cradle, before he even knew.

Reb and Ch 01

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. ~ I Peter 2:9