Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Color Blind

The children's song says that Jesus loves the little children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. When we went to pick up Qavah and took her on a little outing to Burger King in Louisiana, I examined every little thing about her. I felt like I was meeting my newborn baby for the first time and wanted to check out the formation of every little finger and toe. I was curious about how the pigmentation of her skin changed from beautiful chocolate brown on her legs to light pink on the soles of her feet. At first it was all new to me. After several months of caring for her skin I stopped noticing color as we chatter away about silly things. Clipping her little toe nails and applying lotion to her skin has become an ordinary weekly routine. We are mother and daughter, not black and white.

Several months ago I was out shopping and wrote about finding Qavah some pink boots at the shoe store. Some of you might remember that I took a picture of her wearing them. I blogged about it to some extent but something else happened that same day that I have been saving. The time to write about it has come.

I had taken Qavah's pink boots to the check-out and in her enthusiasm she was talking non-stop. The clerk, a woman of color, looked at the two of us and said, "She just called you Mommy!" I said, "Yes, she is my bonus baby and one of the nicest gifts God has ever given me." After a few seconds of silence she said, "Can I ask you a question?" I wondered what was coming. She asked, "Do your white friends look down on you for having a child that is bla....?" Before she could finish asking I told her that if I did have friends that thought ill of me, shame on them! Our friends have been so supportive that I was actually amused as I thought of it, but she started to cry. Quiet tears were rolling down her face and she reached out and took my hand and thanked me. Looking into her eyes I hoped that my answer helped begin a healing process for any mistreatment she had suffered because of her color.

When Qavah and I got out to the car I told her that I wanted to pray for the lady in the store and we did. Through the miracle of adoption there are many families today who reflect the different races of this world all living together. And each time an obviously adopted child calls out "Mommy" or "Daddy" in a public place I think God's heart is moved. All little children need a good home. Red or yellow, black or white, all are precious in His sight.