Tied up, tangled up

It’s inconceivable, isn’t it? That fifty years ago, families like ours didn’t exist. I can’t imagine life any other way, can you? But here we are–and I AM SO GLAD you’ve dropped by! Being a white mom to black kids doesn’t actually feel significantly different to you, does it? I mean, you’re a mom. I’m a mom. Just a mom. Nothing special other than the fact that our adorable kids came in adorable shades. And as just-a-mom of adorable, colorful kids, we know the secret…

We haven’t actually done anything so special. Nothing worthy to be praised over. (Okay. Maybe we do deserve a lifetime supply of chocolate. I’ll go for that.) Years ago, after attending a church service in the deep south, a lady approached us. “It is so good of you to adopt these black children and give them a good home!” Can you imagine her southern accent here? I stood there, hardly able to comprehend her praise. Now, I realize she was just being as nice as she knew how to be, but in that moment, I understood how mom-normal I felt. And that I hadn’t done anything noteworthy or anything different from any other mother.

She thought I had! This lady’s dear heart had emerged from a long-lasting culture of racism and she reached out. She desired to touch on what is good, because the good is such a stark contrast to the past mindset. It’s true. Integration is beautiful, but do you ever feel thrown off balance by well intended expressions like this? It never fails. I totally am. But the answer is pretty easy: all that glory can go to God.

Without Him, our families wouldn’t be what they are…

No family would.

I think, at times like this, it’s a great opportunity to turn the tables and find out about their motherhood. Show interest in their story. Connect, resonate, and tie it all up in Jesus.

Thanking God for you,

Ann