“I’m so frustrated with the voices that say you must choose OR thinking. I could just pull every hair out of my head because its everywhere you go.
Gun lover or banish all guns from the face of the earth….take them all.
Immigrant or terrorist to be feared
Democrat or Republican
Conservative or Liberal
Left or Right
Saved by grace or only if we’ve earned it ( whatever hoop to jump through you want to label)
Kneel or don’t kneel. Patriotic or guilty of Nationalism”
“3: Don’t pour out your adoption story or insist we tell you ours.
We visited a new church recently where a woman (in a multiracial, biological family) introduced herself, told us all about the children’s program, and then asked, “Now are your kids from the same family?”
Um, are we girlfriends? Didn’t we JUST meet?”
“Born a mixed race girl, straight into a system that never had any good intentions for me. My mother was 13, a child herself, and already in foster care. It didn’t take long for her to do what she knew best: run away.
So round and around I went, place to place, family to family…
I learned that I didn’t fit in no matter where I was. I learned that being mixed meant I wasn’t white enough to fit with white people or black enough to fit with black people.
Being a foster child meant no one actually wanted me, even my family who said they “loved me.”
Being an abandoned child created a long term effect of needing to win approval from others, by any means, so that I didn’t feel like such a heavy and unwanted burden.”
“I HOPE YOU’RE NOT MAD AT GOD.”
Her words were hopeful, thoughtful even, as we sat on the giant rock staring out over the ocean. Her eyebrows were raised, her posture stiff, a question on her face, imploring if I was indeed mad at Him or not.
I thought to myself about it, quiet, slow to respond. I sat slouched, but only because my hands were firmly planted on each side of my legs on the rock so I could stare steadily out over the ocean. Steady but relaxed, I halfway shrugged and said, “I don’t think I’m mad at Him, so to speak. But I do think, that if I were, He could handle it. You know? I think He can handle my anger. He seems pretty big.”