At the recent library book sale my four year-old was being a little unruly- why did I bring him to the library book sale in the first place? He was standing with my husband and there was a lady looking at books between us. My blessed husband was trying to give me a break so he told Josh to stay beside him, but my son was whining, “I want my mommy!” The poor lady between us takes one look at my husband and son, then turns to me in a panic and says, “That little boy is telling that man he wants his mommy. Do you see his mommy somewhere?” I had to chuckle as I explained that “that man” was his daddy and that I was his mommy and that he was just fine. It was hard to fault her.
These are the unique moments of being a transracial adoptive family and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. We have been so blessed to see how God can make family out of people who share no DNA, and come from cultures half a world apart. Neither of my sons are biologically related to me or to each other, but they are both my sons and if you listened to them interact with your eyes closed you’d have no doubt about their brotherhood. Turns out arguing over toys knows no cultural boundaries.
I think the love of my family is a picture of heaven and I can’t wait until we get there to see the beautiful colors and cultures of the church universal and the last barriers broken down. It certainly changes the way I read reports about suffering as I more closely understand the heart of God for people all over the world. So when you see the faces of those children, try to imagine that isn’t just a hurting child, that’s YOUR hurting child. How would your perspective change?
And maybe next time you see an unruly four year-old at the library book sale of any nationality, you can find some extra grace in your heart for him, too.