Unfinished Thoughts

Now that I have been mother to an adopted child of another race for a few months, I have a few thoughts to share. They are a small contribution to the general discussion about adopting and race issues. I do not consider them well-thought-out or complete. Just me in the process of growing in understanding.

It seems to me that race is not a simple matter of clearly defined labels such as "red and yellow, black and white," though all people are certainly "precious in His sight." People's skin type, hair texture, and features are as varied as the people themselves. Some people are tall (like my husband), others are short (like me), and most fall somewhere in between (where probably most of our children will be). Dry skin crosses genetic and racial lines; it is a characteristic shared by two of my daughters (Laughter and Crown) and me. The reality is that every trait comes in a spectrum. There are infinite variety and combinations. How beautiful! I find it much more interesting than my previous notions that people could be categorized. (Not to mention that many people are not clearly "black" or "white" or anything else anyway; and increasing number of people are a lovely mixture of races, breaking down previously established boundary lines.)

One result of my changing mindset is that I am starting to realize that I don't so much need to learn how to do "black" hair. As I've talked with other moms, I have discovered that there is as much variety in "black" hair as there is in "white" hair (whatever that is). My daughters each have unique hair and skin, and it is my privilege to discover the products and techniques that best care for each of them. (In fact, it has taken me many years to find the right hair and body products for myself as well.)

On a slightly different note, the concept of adoption is a thread weaving itself throughout my consciousness. Last week, I was forced to spend an entire church service in the nursing mom's room enduring my adopted daughter's screams. In some ways, it seems easier to love her patiently in that situation than my birth children. After all, who do I have to be angry at? Myself? For I hunted her down and chose to have her in my life. In no way was she forced on me by chance or providence. Though I love my homegrown kids, my human nature has sometimes struggled not to resent their ubiquitous presence in my life. (I'm just being honest here.) I know it's a wrong attitude, and as I pray and mature, I learn to see them as a blessing and a privilege. Recently, I realized that if these very same children were in need of adoption, I would gladly welcome them into my home. There is no way I would allow them to be orphans if there was anything I could do about it. And suddenly, I found that they are incredibly precious. No longer simply extensions of myself, they are unique treasures in their own right. This may sound strange, but in my heart I decided to "adopt" every one of them. I kind of laugh at myself, because that thought makes me like them more! In some way, isn't that God's heart as well? He made us, true, but He also chose us, adopted us as His sons and daughters.

The Dream of a King: Glory in Ethnic Diversity

I just finished listening to this sermon by Stuart Greaves, director of the International House of Prayer in Kansas City Night Watch. It was very encouraging to hear this honest, hopeful message about unity between races and cultures given in his warm, transparent manner.

The sermon starts about an hour into the video if you want to skip ahead.

Enjoy!

"The Dream of a King: Glory in Ethnic Diversity" by Stuart Greaves