My Liberian

This year marks the fifth anniversary of when our son Josh joined our family.  That hot afternoon in a West African orphanage changed our lives and may have saved the life of a baby boy who had been very sick.

Josh is proud of his Liberian identity, even if he isn’t totally sure what that means yet.  The other day Josh walked out of the kitchen with a snack he prepared without my permission. By way of explanation he just looked at me, shook his head and said, “Well, you know how hungry Liberians get.”  If he doesn’t like a particular activity he will claim that “Liberians don’t like that, Mom” and when I pointed out that the dog always sits under Josh’s chair at meals he said, “Mom, Liberians are really hungry so we just eat kind of messy.”  This is the boy who insists on carrying his folded laundry to his room on top of his head, like the pictures he’s seen of Africans in the books we read.

Recently at the grocery store Josh saw an African woman in a traditional outfit like he’s seen in our pictures from Liberia. He yelled, “Mom! Look!” and pointed right at her. She good-naturedly smiled at him and took a few steps past him, then stopped. She turned around and said, “Do you want a hug?” Josh nodded his head and she walked back to him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the head. It was beautiful.  And it made me long for heaven.  I can’t wait for the day when we will see our cultural differences in their perfect forms and understand the beauty of God’s diverse creation plan.  Our identities don’t rest in these cultures and colors, they rest in the God who created them all and is longing to bring people from every tribe, nation and tongue to Himself.  It is a joy and a blessing to us to be partners in that plan.