I was getting groceries the other night when I received a text beep. I took the time to check it because home base will often text me while I'm at the grocery store and add to my shopping list. This text, left me unprepared, it read, "Tiz just said, I am black. You are white." I simply put my phone on the shopping cart and stared at the Wheat Thins. Who knew there are so many varieties of a single cracker?
I continued to reread Marc's words. As much as I hated my response, my stomach dropping and focused breathing, it was the response within me. Often, I've heard stories of blended families that describe their children as not even realizing they are of different skin color then other family members, for years, it's like the issue doesn't even exist. It comes as no surprise that Tiza has noticed and commented on our family's different skin color shortly after her third birthday. Truth be told, I'm sure this difference has been running through her insightful little brain for months now, it's just that she has decided to take the time to voice her findings.
Tiza, I'm not sure what place or time in your life you will be at upon reading this entry, but I know it's important enough to record. From the moment God landed you into our home, we have marveled at the beauty that is you. Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your coloring....each are so uniquely different from our own that we cannot get enough of them. We talk and touch and love and kiss on your differences all day long.
I think the stomach drop feeling came because I don't want any differences to cause you hurt or pain or anger or fear. Truth be told, I should be thankful that you, frankly, honestly and accurately claimed the very differences that make up our family. How is it, at three years old, you are teaching me to be bold? There is no need to hide behind what is. It needs no apology.
Josie, Tiza and I were taking part in the Tulip Time parade last week. It's a local event that celebrates our city's Dutch heritage. Tiza was dressed in full Dutch attire when a woman walks up to us, bends to Tiz's level and says, "you don't look very Dutch." then kindly walks away. Josie and I stared, open-mouths, at each other. Did she really say what we thought she said? All the effort, energy, and reading we've done as a family in an attempt to prevent Tiza from feeling singled out, feeling like she doesn't belong and in one brief moment, stranger walks up and WHAM, takes our breath away! It's in that very action Tiza, I celebrate your knowledge and your voice and your confidence!
You see, we are different, really different and that's okay. For some reason, our world sometimes acts like it's better to look and act and be the same, all exactly the same. However, we are created by a unique Artist, a God who clearly sees things differently. Clearly, He must think sameness is pretty boring. You Tiza, spoke truth. You were spot on. You are black and we are white. We pray that in future years, this doesn't cause you pain, but if it does, we'll figure it out together, as a family. A family with different looks, different ideas, different coloring and different emotions. It's probably all of these differences combined that will help us solve and heal and grow through what life throws us. How thankful I am that we have each other to help figure life out! How thankful I am that in your sweet, squeaky, three year old voice, you claimed truth, fully. How much I love the fact that you celebrate what is different!
I'm truly thankful for God's reminder that it's often best to think before I speak. I struggle with that myself and often regret the words I say that can no longer come back. Hopefully, the woman in our encounter enjoyed watching the parade on that sunny afternoon. Perhaps she enjoyed it while seated by the woman that asked me if Tiza was my Granddaughter. I think there is a chance they may be friends. I am black, you are white.
I continued to reread Marc's words. As much as I hated my response, my stomach dropping and focused breathing, it was the response within me. Often, I've heard stories of blended families that describe their children as not even realizing they are of different skin color then other family members, for years, it's like the issue doesn't even exist. It comes as no surprise that Tiza has noticed and commented on our family's different skin color shortly after her third birthday. Truth be told, I'm sure this difference has been running through her insightful little brain for months now, it's just that she has decided to take the time to voice her findings.
Tiza, I'm not sure what place or time in your life you will be at upon reading this entry, but I know it's important enough to record. From the moment God landed you into our home, we have marveled at the beauty that is you. Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your coloring....each are so uniquely different from our own that we cannot get enough of them. We talk and touch and love and kiss on your differences all day long.
I think the stomach drop feeling came because I don't want any differences to cause you hurt or pain or anger or fear. Truth be told, I should be thankful that you, frankly, honestly and accurately claimed the very differences that make up our family. How is it, at three years old, you are teaching me to be bold? There is no need to hide behind what is. It needs no apology.
Josie, Tiza and I were taking part in the Tulip Time parade last week. It's a local event that celebrates our city's Dutch heritage. Tiza was dressed in full Dutch attire when a woman walks up to us, bends to Tiz's level and says, "you don't look very Dutch." then kindly walks away. Josie and I stared, open-mouths, at each other. Did she really say what we thought she said? All the effort, energy, and reading we've done as a family in an attempt to prevent Tiza from feeling singled out, feeling like she doesn't belong and in one brief moment, stranger walks up and WHAM, takes our breath away! It's in that very action Tiza, I celebrate your knowledge and your voice and your confidence!
You see, we are different, really different and that's okay. For some reason, our world sometimes acts like it's better to look and act and be the same, all exactly the same. However, we are created by a unique Artist, a God who clearly sees things differently. Clearly, He must think sameness is pretty boring. You Tiza, spoke truth. You were spot on. You are black and we are white. We pray that in future years, this doesn't cause you pain, but if it does, we'll figure it out together, as a family. A family with different looks, different ideas, different coloring and different emotions. It's probably all of these differences combined that will help us solve and heal and grow through what life throws us. How thankful I am that we have each other to help figure life out! How thankful I am that in your sweet, squeaky, three year old voice, you claimed truth, fully. How much I love the fact that you celebrate what is different!
I'm truly thankful for God's reminder that it's often best to think before I speak. I struggle with that myself and often regret the words I say that can no longer come back. Hopefully, the woman in our encounter enjoyed watching the parade on that sunny afternoon. Perhaps she enjoyed it while seated by the woman that asked me if Tiza was my Granddaughter. I think there is a chance they may be friends. I am black, you are white.
my gosh Mary - what a gorgeous child you have (well 4 of them!)
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