Sunday, August 25, 2013

Dear Adopted One

You may be seven or thirty-seven; adopted at birth, through foster care, by a relative, or from a country thousands of miles away. When you are woven into a family through adoption, whether it was decades ago or last month, your story is an intricate mosaic of love, loss, and redemption.

Chances are good that you're a part of a family that has celebrated your heritage and embraced every single piece of you.  You have heard over and over and over again from your parents how much you are loved.

But even with such encouragement and support, adoption can bring questions, doubts, and empty places that are hard to fill.

On the days when you have more questions than answers, when insecurities have crept in, and you can't find the words to articulate what you are feeling, may this letter remind you of a few important truths.

Your family's journey to you was not by chance.  You were never Plan B.  Nothing about you is a mistake.

1. Your parents cried (a lot), the very first time they met you. With hearts pounding out of their chests and shaky hands, they held you tightly, stroked your hair, and whispered their love. You may have been a newborn, a nine-year old or a teenager. Age didn't matter, because they knew instantaneously that YOU were their child.

2. Before you joined the family, your parents were praying for you.  Every single day, every step of the way, they were praying for you.  They may have been praying for years and years about you before they physically were able to hold you.  Before you even knew that they existed, your family was praying. 

While they waited for you, your parents were praying. . .

  • that you would know, without question, how much you were loved and wanted.
  • that somehow you would know they were coming as soon as they could.
  • that God would protect your body and your heart when they physically couldn't.   

3. Your siblings asked about you constantly before you came home.  They hadn't even met you yet, but that didn't matter.  In their eyes, you were already a part of the family.  They wondered about your personality, which toys you would want, and if you would like them.  They made posters and wrote letters to give to you the minute they met you.  It didn't take bloodlines to make you family, it just took love.

4. Your parents moved mountains to get to you.  They filled out hours and hours of paperwork, made phone call after phone call, and did whatever they had to in order to get to you as quickly as they could. They made t-shirts, held garage sales, baked cookies, ran marathons, and hand-crafted Christmas ornaments to raise the funds to fly across the ocean or the country to hold you.  They would have learned how to fly a plane themselves if it meant they would be one day closer to bringing you home forever.

5. If they could, your parents would take away all the pain and hurt and loneliness you had ever felt.  They would do anything to get back the years that they were not with you.  They wish that every single birthday, holiday, and milestone had been spent with you.  Your parents wanted to be the ones who kissed every boo-boo, dried every tear, and hugged you when you hurt.  Those times you felt a little smothered with all the attention were just your mom and dad trying to make up for lost opportunities. 

6. Your parents remember.  They remember the years of waiting and hoping.  They longed to hold you as the months ticked away, aching as they looked at your picture.  They can recall waiting for "the" phone call, the one that changed the course of their lives.  Not one day with you has ever been taken for granted, dear one, because they remember the journey to get there.  And you were so worth the wait. 

7. Your parents are going to mess up.  If they haven't already, they will.  They are not always going to have the right answer to your questions. There will be messy moments, hurtful words, and unmet expectations. At some point, they are going to let you down. Take comfort in the knowledge that each decision, whether it was the right one or not, was made was out of love.  Every day they strive to know you more deeply.  They believe that you were meant for great things.  If you don't yet believe that for yourself, they won't give up until you do.

8. Your parents will never, ever stop loving you.  Nothing you have done or will do can ever change that. You are their child, your hearts now intricately woven together. You are wanted, you are chosen, and you are immensely loved.













Monday, August 19, 2013

Meet Cody and Joey

Y'all are awesome. Plain and simple. 

Last week I partnered up with my bloggy friend Catie over at This High Calling, and posted about a set of brothers looking for a forever family.  In case you missed it, please read about this Waiting Children initiative here. 

Friends, you shared that post and shared it and shared it. Oh, and then you shared it some more. There were over a thousand pageviews of that specific post.  

LOVE IT.  

It's time to do it again this week! 

{Remember-  these are children from Alabama, but families from ANY state can adopt them! That's why ANYONE can share this, no matter where you live!}

Meet Cody and Joey. . .


Cody, born November 1996, is an outgoing young man who is very friendly. Cody loves to play basketball. He received special education services at school. He does not like school, but did well when in a structured environment. Cody is very helpful. He loves electronics, and listening to rap music. 

Joey, born December 1999, is an avid Crimson Tide fan. He loves to rap, draw and play sports. He considers himself a good friend. Joey receives special services at school and does better with individualized attention. He needs a home with structure and consistency. Joey's favorite class at school is his vocational class. He loves to build things. 

Cody & Joey have a supportive relationship and they long to be together in a family of their own. They come from a sibling group of 5 and they are the last two in foster care.



Please head over to Heart Gallery Alabama to see more pictures and a video of these two amazing brothers here.  

If you are interested in learning more about this organization or  other waiting children in Alabama, please click here.  

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Risky Business

I can't talk openly about our first-born son.  By first-born, I mean the very first one I held in my arms, the first one I fed at 3am, the first one to sleep in our nursery. By son, I mean the one who carries our hearts, but still not our last name.  

He is still in the foster care system, his future yet to be determined. He has been with us since almost the very beginning of his life.  He must remain anonymous to you, but to us, he is known, and loved, and so very, very wanted. 

I long for the ability to show you his face, the animated expressions he makes, and sweet toddler smile. I pray to be able to just tell you his first name one day. 

There are so many variables, so many unknowns in this world of foster care. 

I thought by now, after many months of waiting, there would be a resolution to his permanency. But not just yet. 

It's been the ultimate lesson in waiting and trust for our whole family, but especially for me. 

Every single piece of his future is in someone else's hands.  We are at the mercy of social workers, judges, and lawyers to decide what is best for his future. 

Though we know him better than anyone, our opinion matters the least. 

There is nothing for me to control or manipulate.  I can't provide the solution or make things progress any faster.  

It's a beautifully freeing and terrifyingly unknown place to be. 

I am forced to completely cling to the promises of God. . . that He is Holy and Just and Merciful and Loving and Righteous. . . just to name a few. 

This foster care journey has deepened and stretched my theology.  I've wrestled with logic and reason and faith.  I've questioned motives and sovereignty and the goodness of God. 

I've come to this. 

If I truly believe that God is who He says He is. . .

Then. . .

I absolutely have to trust that God cares about our J-man more than I do. 

I have to trust the God is good.  No matter the outcome. 

I have to believe that J-man will be cared for well, even it's it not by our family. 

I have to believe that God is weaving a beautiful story for him.  Even if it's written differently than I would have imagined.  

These are not trite statements. They are the culmination of a heart that has wrestled tirelessly with God. I think about them EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

These are words that carry the weight of potential loss, shattered dreams, and unconditional love. It is the unclenching of my fists, releasing this child fully into the hands of the One who is writing his Story. 

I'm choosing to trust, to hand over all of my hopes and anxiety and doubt, because I've seen what God can do.

He's healed my broken heart. 

He's turned what was meant for evil, for good. 

He's mended relationships. 

He's protected and comforted. 

He's answered every single prayer.  In His way and in His timing. 

Friends, choosing to trust God with our unknowns, with our heartbreak, with our broken dreams, with our children, with our spouses, with our finances, and with everything is risky business. 

It's in the risk, where we have everything to lose, that God meets us.  It's in our tears, those heaving cries, where He comforts.  It's in the release, where we finally let go of every plan and every detail, that He becomes real. 

In the messy, the broken, and the painful parts of our lives, He can be trusted.  In the silence and the darkness, He is there.  

He is faithful in His promises and unchanging in His character. 

To those of you who are hurting, waiting, lonely, or tired. . . you aren't alone.  Let's cling to His promises together. 

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, because He who promised is faithful." 
 Hebrews 10:23










Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Meet Dustin, Daniel, and Ricky {A New Weekly Series}

In every state across the US, there are currently children in foster care who are waiting for a forever family.  Their parents rights have been terminated and they are now free to be loved and welcomed into a family through adoption.  

As of April 2013, there were 5,013 children in the foster care system of Alabama.  Five hundred of those children sit waiting, currently ready to be adopted.  

And here is the thing: waiting children don't have to be adopted just by Alabama families, anyone across the country could become their parent.  

Heart Gallery Alabama strives to help find a permanent, loving family for every child in Alabama's foster care system who is in need of a home. 


Their heartbeat is the mantra, "There are no unwanted children. Only unfound families."

I very much agree.  

I was so excited to see my blog friend Catie, over at This High Calling, announce that every Monday she would be posting about a child available for adoption in the state of Alabama. 

I'm on board too. 

I've got big dreams for what could happen.  Each week Catie will share a beautiful face and and their story.  Then I'll share it.  My hope is then that YOU will share it. And if you share it, maybe your facebook friends will share it, and then their (cousin/friend from high school/tennis partner/co-worker, will open up the link. . .

And maybe, JUST maybe, one of those people will see the face of the child they have been praying for . . .

It only takes ONE family to provide a forever home to a child.  

Let's find that family. 

Let me introduce you to these three handsome brothers. . . 


Meet Dustin, Daniel, and Ricky

Dustin, born February1999, enjoys watching TV, playing video games and reading. He likes the Harry Potter Books. He is creative. He prefers the indoors and enjoys playing alone. Dustin's grades are average and he maintains passing grades. He does wear glasses to help him see the black board in the classroom. 

Daniel and Ricky were born in February 2003. Daniel has an IEP in place for speech therapy to assist with a speech impediment. His grades have been good. He likes to play outside and swim. Daniel enjoys watching TV, playing video games, and playing with others. He is very energetic. He is also creative and likes to draw. 

Ricky likes to play outside and go swimming. He also likes to go fishing. Ricky enjoys watching TV, playing video games, and playing with others. He is very energetic and is creative. He makes friends easily. 

These brothers need a family that can attend to their therapeutic needs and keep them together. They need to be placed together for adoption with a family that has no other children in the home.


If you'd more information about these boys and other available children, please head over to the Heart Gallery of Alabama.


Blog friends, let's advocate for and pray these children into a forever home.  Let us be a voice for the voiceless. 

Excited to partner together with you! 




Life as of Late

Remember that time I wrote a blog post regularly?

Yeah, me neither.

Life as of late is currently kicking my tail.  I have been feeling great, so that's GOOD news. (Shout out to my glutenless and dairy free foods.)  Unfortunately, at every point over the past six weeks, some other human in my household has been sick.

Add to that a family vacation to the Tennessee Mountains, working twenty hours a week from home, and Tyson is now officially mobile.

My time is scarce.  Still trying to figure out a balance of what I dream of doing, what I need to do, and what I can realistically do.  

I've decided that if I just had an in-home chef to cook my family gluten free/dairy free TASTY meals, a personal shopper to extreme coupon for me and handle my grocery list (I'll still go to Target myself, thank you very much), a cleaning lady who constantly swiffers my floor (HOW does it get so dirty SO quickly), and a Life Coach, I should be able to get everything done.  Ooh, a personal trainer would be good too.  Especially if they could just do the workout for me.

Sounds reasonable to me. I'm going to run it by Brian.  I'll let you know what he says.

For now, I'll leave you with this cutie pie chilling on our family vacation.  So smoochable.



Thursday, July 25, 2013

The 5 Pictures You've Posted on Instagram

I'm an expert at taking below-average quality pictures.  Thanks to Instagram, I can post them for all the world to enjoy and make them marginally better by adding a sepia-toned filter.

I've done extensive research (not really) and put together the top five Instagram photos you're likely to see on everyone's profile.

Take a peek and decide if you can really call yourself a true Instagrammer.

1. The Vacation + Appendage Photo

It's important to take a picture of your beautiful vacation destination to remind all your Instagram minions how pitiful their lives are at that moment.  In the picture, be sure to include a foot in the sand or a hand holding a frosty beverage. It's a guarantee to make all your friends jealous as they scroll through Instagram while sitting in their cubicle on a lunch break.


2.  The Cute Kid


Every Instagrammer should have a picture of an adorable toddler in their portfolio.  It's the money shot, sure to garner numerous likes from your followers.  They're your own child, your niece, your next door neighbor or some random kid you've babysat once.  The ridiculous cuteness of said child forces you to post a picture of them. All of your Instagram followers love you for it.  At least that's what you assume.


3.  The Throwback

#Tbt.  If you're a legit Instagrammer, you know what this hashtag means. Instagram's Throwback Thursday offers an open invitation to anyone with no sense of shame or self-respect to upload embarrassing nuggets from the past. As a prime example, see the above pixelated photo from the early 80's, complete with high-waisted shorts, feathered hair, and tube socks.


4. Coffee Cup + Computer/Book + Deep Thoughts

The cozy coffee picture.  This indicates you're a deep and introspective thinker who sips lattes, reads the latest books on theology and the economy and simultaneously blogs about justice and world peace. (Real talk, y'all.  I haven't had time to get through an entire book in, well, forever.  Unless you count Brown Bear, Brown Bear, in which case I have finished that book 4,230 times in the past month.)


5. The Hand-Crafted Masterpiece

Homemade and handmade is all the rage. Obviously, after going to all that trouble and spending all those hours to hand-make some dang thing off Pinterest, you are going to Instagram the heck out of it.  And your followers BETTER like it and comment.

And Pinterest, quit telling me how much money I'm going to save when I make it myself.  You're a big, fat liar.

The above photo is of my homemade cupcakes for J-man's first birthday last November.  I actually did a test run of them to make sure they were okay before the final batch.  It was rather ironic, considering J-man devoured his and then puked the entire cupcake right back up.  I decided to not put THAT picture on Instagram.  You're welcome, world.


What did I miss?  Any others we need to add to the list?  

Monday, July 22, 2013

Kids Aren't Colorblind

"What color is he?" she asked?

I was changing J-man at a friend's house.  Her four year old daughter, eyes full of questions and wonder kept looking back and forth between J-man and I.

"What color do you think he is?" I responded.  It was the first time I had a child ask about our differences and I was half excited for an opportunity to talk about it and the other half terrified that I would say something completely confusing or just plain dumb.

"Um," she looked him over again.  "I think he's brown."

I nodded in agreement.  "I think you're right.  What color are you?"

"Peach," she replied.

"What color am I?" I asked.

"Pink," she said and then paused.  I could see she wanted to say something else.

"You are pink and he is brown."

"That's right," I replied.  "And I am his mommy and I love him very much."

"Okay!" she said.

And that was it.

I exhaled and smiled to myself, as I turned to finish changing my handsome boy, the color of caramel, with my freckled, pink arms.

Oh, that all conversations on race would be that simple and sweet.

The reality is that at some point, the questions asked aren't always so innocent, the intent behind them to divide, rather than invite.

When does the ugliness creep in? When do children begin to see differences as wrong rather than as unique?

A few weeks ago I wrote about the sacred space of our Kitchen Table.  The intentional conversations we have with our children matter tremendously. Whether it is over dinner or sitting in the carpool line, we have the biggest voice into our child's life.  Research has shown that by age twelve, most children have formed a complete set of stereotypes about ethnic, racial, and religious groups in our society.  Those first twelve years are the formative ones, where our children are looking to us for guidance, for direction, and for answers.

When it comes to conversations on race and culture with our children, it's often difficult to know what to say, when to initiate conversations, and how to answer the questions that they ask.

Here are a few points that can challenge and encourage us as we all fumble through this incredibly difficult role called parenthood:

1.  Questions are good.  The timing just may stink. 
    • Your three year-old asking why the lady in your same aisle had purple hair at the top of their voice in Target last week. 
    • Your kindergartener asking their friend why they have a white mommy and a black daddy  while standing in front of said mommy and daddy. 
    • Your first grader asking an Asian classmate how those white people could be her parents since they don't look anything like her. 
Those are experiences where the first inclination as parents may be to find any means necessary to silence our child.  Duct tape or bribing with gummy bears if they would just keep their mouth closed for ONE minute come to mind.... Yet, these are defining moments for our children.

Developmentally, they are at a point where differences are being noticed.  By age two, children can recognize and explore physical traits.  Between ages three and four, kids will start to notice skin color, hair texture, and eye shape and therefore want to ask questions to learn more.  They are classifying, noting similarities and differences, and are curious about the world around them. 

The early elementary school years are some of the most critical times for our children in matters of race and ethnicity.  They are learning the world is a much bigger place, and in addition, they are learning to rank the things around them.  Most children have learned the concept of fair and unfair by age six.  They are making groups of friends and learning what it means to feel left out of games and playground activities.  

When questions about race and ethnicity are posed by our children, they needed to be answered.   When we silence those questions, we are telling them our children that different is wrong and it is inappropriate to discuss.  When we respond in anger to their questions, we tell them that as their parents, we are not a safe place to land with their questions.  

Addressing our children's questions lets them know we hear them and that what concerns them concerns us.  We have the ability to clear up inaccuracies in their statements immediately.  Discussing questions make our children more comfortable with the differences they see.

2.  Kids aren't colorblind.  Children notice differences and they are quick to point them out.  As parents, we can celebrate the differences, in culture and race, or we can dismiss them and tell our children that everyone is the same.  

While the "everyone is the same," mantra sounds like a really clean, safe answer, the reality is that everyone is NOT the same.  We want our children to know the similarities that connect us as humans, but focusing only on the way we are alike can be detrimental.  When we simply talk with our children about how others are "just like us,"we are teaching them the potentially dangerous message that ONLY those who act, speak, or look like us are acceptable.

As parents we need to talk about how families are different and celebrate the uniqueness of each example.  When our children know that we are a safe place for their questions to land, we have the privilege and the opportunity to set the foundation of a healthy perspective on the world around us. 

3.  Our past experiences should not determine our children's future relationships. Before we can speak into the lives of our children, we have to look into our own history to decide what to carry into the next generation. Often, our past is what is hampering us from talking honestly with our children about race.

When we decide to bring children into our world, whether biologically or through adoption, we take on the responsibility of investing into their little hearts and minds.  As parents, we owe it to them to leave our stereotypes and personal experiences behind.  Our children deserve the opportunity to experience the world with unblemished eyes and minds.

4. They are listening.  While you may have to say your child's name fifteen times before they respond about picking up their toys, those same little ears are at full attention in your conversations with other adults.

At holiday dinners, swim meets and soccer games, and in the grocery store, our children are watching us interact with others.  What we say and do not say is setting the foundation for their future relationships with others.

If someone is saying disparaging things about another person in front of us and we say nothing, that speaks volumes to our children.  They are following not only what we do but what we say and do not say.  We set the example for courage and justice in our children.  Modeling compassion and justice for them needs to be paramount over our own insecurities and unwillingness to "rock the boat," during inappropriate conversations with other adults.

5. We don't always need to have the perfect answer.  There will be times when our children ask questions that may throw completely us for a loop.  We may not have a clue how to handle it.  In those moments, not having an answer is okay.  Letting our kids know that we have heard them and that we need to think about their question for a little bit is completely acceptable, as long as we DO answer them.  

In the meantime, the best way to understand our child's intention is to dig deeper about their question.  When we understand the heart behind their curiosity, we are able to help them find meaningful answers to their questions. 

As parents, we need to give ourselves boatloads of grace.  Perfect answers won't always be given. Conversations with our toddler in the aisle of Target won't always run smoothly.

Our children will learn not only from the content of the conversations but also the fact that they are occurring at all.

_________________________________________________________
Friends, I am no expert on race relations.  Quite honestly, I wrote this as a challenge to myself for the years ahead.

I grew up in a white town, surrounded by white friends.  Went to a mainly white college, attended a church full of white faces.  Taught elementary school for five years in upper income white school.  Spent another five years in high school ministry at a school that is 80% caucasian. 

In the past four years, I have moved into a diverse community where my immediate neighbors are Asian, African American, and Caucasian.  In the past two years, I have become a mom to three black boys.  My world has opened up in extraordinary ways that have often left me feeling ill-equipped for my role as a parent.  

I am fumbling through this adventure, failing miserably at times.  But I know what I want for my boys, and growing up living in a bubble is not the answer.  So, I'm pressing on, striving for them to experience a community where differences are welcomed and being unique is celebrated.  

I'd LOVE to hear from YOU on this.  How are you encouraging your children to celebrate the differences in others? How have you handled their challenging questions?  Are there any experiences you would have handled differently? 



















Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Spirochetes, my Arch Enemy

I was a little hesitant to share about the fall and what I have been dealing with over the past eight weeks on the blog.  It had the potential to open up some vulnerable parts of our family that we weren't sure we should share.  But, I trusted that this blog community knows my intentions were not to have a pity-party, but to humbly ask for prayer and encouragement.  As expected, we received that and more. 

I heard from so many friends and strangers who offered thoughts and direction in the way we should pursue answers.  Though it was a little overwhelming, it was all helpful. 

One thing I heard over and over and over was to ditch gluten.  So, I bit the bullet and started a gluten-free diet about two and a half weeks ago.  

I also dropped my anti-inflammatories and started natural supplements.  Pretty soon after, I was experiencing much less swelling and inflammation.  Score! 

However, I knew that something was still up in this ol' body of mine, so I heeded the advice of my dear friend Andrea, from Babe of My Heart, who suggested seeing her naturopathic doctor in Atlanta. 

She had experienced symptoms much worse than I have been dealing with and after seeing numerous medical professionals, she finally found healing through this doctor. 

Today I was able to spend a few hours at his office. It was a time spent having weird tests done that to my rational mind seemed a leeeeeetle bit bizarre. 

But.....then I walked in to have my evaluation with the Doctor and he immediately confirmed what I have thought all along.  

Spirochetes. 

What's that, you say? 

It's bacteria, otherwise known as the little devils that cause Lyme Disease.  Apparently they've been hanging out in me for a few years.  The fall was an event that brought it from dormancy to life.  Awesome.

The Doctor also found a few others things residing in me as well including; Epstein-Barr, Candida, and Herpes Zoster (ahem...not THAT kind of herpes, y'all).  

What was interesting was that he was able to tell me things I had been experiencing for years that I hadn't told him about, (like TMJ)...through his weird, bizarro testing methods. 

He finished by testing for some food allergies and lucky me! I tested positive for gluten, dairy, and soy. And by positive, I mean it's a negative thing.  

What will I do without cheese in my life???????????  The horrors.  

My toxicity level was at whopping twelve, which ideally I should be at a four or five.  Did you know that it's not good to keep your phone plugged in right next to your bed? Me neither! We're taking in toxins, people! 

I walked out of the office with information overload, a disappointment that it is indeed Lyme and I've had it for a while, and a hope for treatment and healing. Brian and I are relieved to have an answer and to find someone that would consider that I even had Lyme.  (Sadly, hard to come by in Alabama.)

I've got a detox plan and bajillion supplements to take for the next few months. He's certain we can get this thing taken care of but that it's going to take around six or more months.  I'm to expect that I'll feel worse in the next few weeks, but will start on an upswing after my detox is working.  

Overall, I'm doing okay with the news.  I got my tears out with Brian, and now we are looking forward, hopeful for some relief for me.  

Thank you for your prayers, your food deliveries, your calls and texts, and your valuable insights.  We've got a long way to go to get this behind us, but are very excited to be handling the diagnosis naturally and without strong medicines.  We are confident that God will use this for good and for His glory. 

Spirochetes, prepare for battle.  I'm coming for ya. 



Sunday, June 30, 2013

Kitchen Table Conversations: Why They Matter

I have so many memories around our family's kitchen table.  I can picture the weekly staples that we grew up eating, my mother's immense dislike of our singing while seated at the table, and the time spent talking as a family.

There was no television in the background and no cellphones to distract and disrupt.  We simply had each other.

My father's anecdotal stories of growing up were shared.  (Over and over, I might add.)  Our days at our various schools were rehashed and relived.  Mom would cook, and everyone else would handle the clean up.  Dessert would always come later, usually ice cream or cookies, while watching our nightly shows.

It was a time that was a part of our family DNA.  A sacred place that began with the setting of the table and the prayer before eating.  

The menu stayed consistent, as did the presence of my mom and dad.  They were engaged and interested the stories their daughters shared.  My parents were unknowingly helping me form my beliefs and worldview, all while sharing a meal of tuna casserole and green beans.

As I look back now, I can see it was a holy time.

Race wasn't talked about much around our kitchen table, but when it was, my parents were always affirming and positive.  Growing up in small town that is 98% caucasian, we had little experience with other cultures and races.  We didn't have a lot of interaction, but that didn't mean we had to be ignorant.

When my sister's best friend, Tim, started joining us around the dinner table in high school, it was simply a matter of moving a chair over and adding a plate. The fact that he was Asian was a non-issue.  What threw my parents for a loop was that he ate more than the entire family put together.

When he became my brother-in-law a few years later, our entire family celebrated.  Our family DNA had changed and we all agreed we were better for it.

The dynamic shifted considerably when we ate at the dining room table.  We would open up our home to extended family, usually only once or twice a year on major holidays, and gather together for a meal.  Stories would be shared and inevitably, a racial slur would be uttered. A rabbit trail of disparaging remarks would soon follow. At even a very young age, I bristled at the words and language that I was hearing.  Because of the example my parents set at our dinner table, nothing about the interaction sounded redeeming or kind to my ears.  And though my mom and dad never joined into those conversations, they also didn't shut them down.

As the years went on and the stories continued, I would learn to just leave the table and busy myself in the kitchen, my mother joining me in solidarity. But still, none of us ever said anything.  It was our home, but they were ruling the table.

I don't have a great recollection of all of my childhood anymore, but those dining room conversations have never left me.  I have felt the weight of being party to exchanges that tore down entire racial groups. As a family, my parents and I look back now and know it should have been handled differently.

No excuses.  No "that's just how we were raised," and "we didn't know any better," platitudes.  Our silence was wrong and we own that now.  My lack of response to those conversations is still a difficult pill for me to swallow at times, as I look in the present faces of my three loves. But I cannot change my past decisions, so I focus now on my current responses.  There will not be a hesitation if the situation ever arises again, that my mama heart knows for sure.

These days, our family is divided across two states and three homes, and meals together are far and few between.  When we do have the privilege of eating together, there are chairs and booster seats pulled up holding beautiful faces who don't look quite like one another.  Korean, Irish, English, Congolese, and African American.  Our family DNA has expanded with wide-spread arms and open hearts.

Each one of those faces sweetly remind us that our dinner table must remain a sacred space. Undefiled and intentional.

The conversations held around the kitchen tables across our country every night are setting the stage for the next generation of leaders, thinkers, and world-changers.

Research has shown that by age twelve, most children have formed a complete set of stereotypes about ethnic, racial, and religious groups in our society.  Those first twelve years are the formative ones, where our children are looking to us for guidance, for direction, and for answers.  It's the sliver of life when they are content at home and eager to sit at the table with us.

What we bring to the kitchen table, as their parent, matters immensely.

A healthy meal is important, but what comes out of our mouth will leave a legacy much greater than what we put in their bellies.

When we speak of race and culture to our children, let it be edifying and redeeming to their ears.  Let our stories told at the table be full honest recollection and objective truth.  May our children understand that different is not weird, it is unique.

If the only words about other races and cultures that leave our mouth reek of negativity and bitterness, then our children will carry that taste with them.

Let us not provide them with the opportunity to blame their behavior or their words on their upbringing.

Our children will not always eat every meal at our dinner table. They will sit at a cafeteria table with their peers every day, year after year.  They will visit the dining rooms of friends and other family members.

Who do we want them to be at those tables?

What will be the words that they speak across those tables?

Most likely, they will be our words.  Straight from our lips.

Our dinner table is still sacred. Whether it's time together over fish sticks or filet mignon, these moments with our children matter.   Let's not miss them.







Thursday, June 27, 2013

Goodbye, Old Friend

People have been telling me for a while that I should end my relationship with you.

They've insisted that you're bad for me.  You look innocent from the outside, they say, but you've got a way of causing pain when I'm around you too much.

I didn't believe them for so long.  How could YOU harm me?  I stood up for you, defended your honor.

But then the fall happened.

And then this started.

Inflammation. Joint pain. Swelling.


It was the cankles that made me finally draw the line.

I had to see for myself if the accusations were true.

So with much sadness, I said goodbye to my old friend, gluten.


So long, chewy, warm flavorful breads.


Farewell, cupcakes and other delightful gluten-filled goodies.  I shall miss you. 

Friends have tried to console me.  They've introduced to me to Kale.  Told me that hanging around with Kale would make me feel better.  Encouraged me to starting making smoothies and inviting Kale to join. 


First impressions weren't good. 

Kale smells gross, y'all.   

But I'm trying, really I am.  Hours have been spent googling as many fruit/veggie smoothies as I can find and shoving handfuls of Kale in the blender while holding my nose. 

Some of them actually taste pretty good.  Some taste like I'm eating weeds straight from my lawn. 


This was a good one.  You can find the recipe here. 

I've even created this board on Pinterest dedicated to gluten-free recipes.  That shows I'm serious about this, right?  

A little over a week ago I went off my anti-inflammatory medicines, started taking some natural supplements, and decided to change my diet to gluten-free.  

Results have been positive in just the past week, so I am pressing on and resisting the urge to shove baguettes and chocolate chip cookies into my mouth while hiding in the pantry. 

Before- left foot and ankle swelling

After- still swollen, but a  little cankle-less this week

I'm committed to forming new friendships with more veggies and fruits, including the smelly Kale, but gluten-filled foods, I will never forget you.  

Maybe one day we'll meet again on better terms.  But not until the cankles are gone.