Color Matters

I love the color of my children's skin. I love that their skin is different than mine and their daddy's. I cannot get over how smooth and rich and dark it is. I love the contrast between my hands and their hands.

I love how their hands and faces and bellies speak to their culture and their history. Their skin declares, "I am Ethiopian! I was born in Africa!" Their chocolate color speaks of a creative God with a colorful palette who wanted us to celebrate the uniqueness of our cultures, races, and countries of origin. Their color speaks of their identity and from where they were called.

Sometimes I just stare at my kids and feel almost worshipful at how gorgeous they are and how different we look from each other. That God would take such care and consideration in the formation of even our skin...WOW! That is one attentive Maker.

Some would say that they are color blind, that they don't see color of skin but only the heart of the person beneath the skin. Some inter-racial families would say that skin color or birth country doesn't matter because "my kids are my kids" and "I love them the same as if they shared my DNA".

But I think we miss so much of the person and the Creator when we disregard someone's skin color and make them just like everyone else. Being Ethiopian doesn't define my kids, but it is a meaningful and significant part of their identity. Being black isn't the summation of who they are but it is a piece of what makes them an individual connected to a people and a part of the world that's "beautifully and wonderfully made".

The truth is that color does matter in this world. It's a source of massive conflict, stereotypes, stigmas, bigotry in families and nations. Color may not matter to the majority race, but it matters to the minority. Color matters when you're the only one in the room who looks different from the others. It matters to the ones who have jokes made about them or suffocating stereotypes associated with them. It matters to a person who loves their heritage and celebrates their culture.

And I believe with my whole heart that it matters to a God who took pride in creating the spectrum of our skin colors. So instead of ignoring or minimizing each others color, 

• what if we took time and care to get to know what that color represents and means to that person? 
• and what if appreciating each others differences was an act of worship to God? 
• and what if as we honor every part of each other we also help heal the world of some bigotry and hurtful stereotypes?

What if...?

365

What a difference a year can make. 365 days ago we stumbled off an airplane into the arms of sweet friends after a harrowing 40+ hour of flights plus emergency 24 hour DC layover so our new family of 4 could catch our breath after the trauma of our kids' first transcontinental flight.

Proof that we were utterly spent after this trip HOME.

The first time our kids had ever been in a car seat.

365 days ago Judah didn't know a word of English, and Addise didn't have a single tooth.

365 days ago I had no idea how much my heart would expand in ravishing love for our 2 babes.

365 days ago I had no idea how much it'd cost us to raise two toddlers.

365 days Brian and I wouldn't have guessed how many stories we'd tell each other after they went to bed, instead of just talking amongst ourselves.

365 days later, we celebrated our 1 year together at HOME as a FAMILY of 4+1 in a most unusual yet fitting way. This morning, Brian ran his first half marathon (that's 13.1 miles!!) for our friends in Malawi. On behalf of World Vision he raised over $1000 to help build clean water wells. He ran alongside over 700 other World Vision runners who together raised over $350,000 for the forgotten and poor of our world. It was only fitting that with our children, who are no longer orphans, we remembered those who are once like they were.

Celebrating 1 year HOME together!!! Picture just moments after Brian completed his 13.1 mile race in support of our friends in Malawi (with World Vision).

Today, I kissed our babies a little more than often, snuggled them after their naps a little tighter, practiced more patience in their difficult moments, tickled them longer, and deeply thanked our God for our growing family.

Tonight, we celebrated Brian's race and our big family day with PJs, special prayers of blessing, and pizza.

What a difference a year can make! 

Here's to year two as a family of 4+1.

Colorful Family

Several weeks ago we were talking with some close friends about our yet-public pregnancy, and all of a sudden our friend a shocked look came across his face. He looked at us and announced, "Oh my gosh! I just realized this baby isn't going to be black. WEIRD!" Brian and I looked at each other and had the same shocked reaction. What?!? But our children our black!?!

Literally, multiple times over the past several weeks I've caught myself in the reality check that, indeed, this baby will not be Ethiopian. This will be a Caucasian-Puerto Rican baby.

We've chuckled that our biological child will be the minority of our family. Typically, the concern in multi-racial adoptive families is that that adoptive child will feel like the minority, but in our colorful family [white momma, Hispanic daddy, 2 Ethiopian babies, and 1 multi-racial baby] we're all mixed up.

I think God must be happily chuckling, too. Seriously, I must keep reminding myself that Baby #3 won't be black. Add that to the "crazy things" about being pregnant list.