We Can Do Better

It's 2013, in case you didn't know, and I'm here to report that racism is alive and well.

And sadly, I'm shocked by that.  I'm sure I shouldn't be shocked, but I am.

This past weekend, I had the privilege of performing a wedding in the beautiful hill country of Texas, Fredericksburg to be exact. And my story should not be taken to be the pervasive behavior of the entire town.  It was most certainly an isolated experience.

On Saturday morning, Mike and the girls and I slept in and then headed out for a late breakfast.  Considering Fredericksburg is a tourist town, famous for wineries and quaint little bed and breakfasts, we thought we'd find us a cute little local restaurant to enjoy.  Apparently though every OTHER tourist in town had the exact same plan because all the little local restaurants were packed.

Had it been just the two of us, we probably would have just waited, but the girls were hungry and getting grouchy, so we decided to go to a Denny's that I had remembered passing the night before.

When we got there, we were seated right away in the back of the restaurant.  Another couple, without children, were seated at the same time.

Their order was taken right away, and before our order was ever even taken they received their food.  Finally we were waited on, but then we continued to wait for what seemed like an eternity with two hungry and active preschoolers!

Eventually I had to flag down another employee and ask about our meal.  She asked who our waiter was, then rolled her eyes and headed off to check on our food.  Within moments our food arrived, all except for mine, which was completely wrong, and had to be returned.  

Our waiter never returned to our table.  Not once.  A manager, seeing me staring around the dining room, stopped by our table to see what was wrong.  When I explained that I still had not gotten my food and that Mike was still missing part of his food, he asked who our waiter was.  When I pointed out who he was, the manager shook his head, then quickly returned with my food.

It was not until the very end of our breakfast did our waiter return.  No apology.  No "Sorry I never refilled your coffee or checked on your order."  Nope.  Just a bill.

As we left the restaurant, I asked Mike to take the girls to the car so I could discuss our bill and our service with the manager.  There were two women at the cash register, an Assistant Manager and the Cashier.  The Assistant Manager asked who our server was, exchanged a glance with the Cashier, then took my breakfast off our bill and apologized for the inconvenience.

I told the Cashier, "I know this will sound weird, but I seriously got the impression that he didn't want to wait on us because our daughters are black.  I'm sure that's not the case, and I'm not really one to jump to the "race card" but it really, actually felt that way."

She said, "It's not weird, and I'm sure that's exactly what happened. He just got back from suspension for the exact thing.  He has race issues."

I. Was. Shocked.

I held back my tears, really not wanting to believe that crap like that still exists. When I got to the car and told Mike what happened, we both just sat there in stunned silence. I looked in the back seat at my two daughters and couldn't decide whether to cry, go back in and ninja chop the guy in the face, or just drive away.

When I shared my experience with a friend, here's what she said, (I told her I was going to quote her because her words summed up my feelings.) 

"Racism is a waste of time and energy. It also shows a person's heart. "I'm not going to serve someone because they are black." Yeah, way to love your fellow man, and to do that to little girls is just stupid."

In the past few days, I've gone from hurt, to mad, to just plain shocked.  Seriously, people.  We can do better. We can do better.

The Truth of Their Story - Telling Our Girls Their Story

Our First Family Photo

When my boys were little, they used to love hearing the story of the day they were born, coming home from the hospital, etc. I told that story over and over and over, but they never tired of it. (Well, eventually they tired of it because they discovered Nintendo and sports and other things in life more interesting than the story of their birth! But you know what I mean.) 

I digress. 

I have struggled to tell the girls their story, so I have avoided their story. I know it's the wrong choice, I've just really struggled with what I would say. 

THE TRUTH OF THEIR STORY

Their story isn't pretty. 

How they came to us isn't pretty. 

The day they came to our house isn't lovely and filled with sweet sentiments. 

But they deserve a story they'll want to hear over and over and over. So I've been working on it.

THEIR COMING HOME STORY

"When you girls were born, you were teeny tiny. You only weighed two pounds, which is not very big at all. You were so tiny they put you in a very special baby bed that helped you breathe and get healthy.

But you did get healthy. And you got bigger too! 

I will never forget the first day you came home to us. It was nighttime, and when I first saw you both, I couldn't get over how little you were! (I didn't know then that you had been a teeny tiny baby when you were born, but I found that out later and was so glad you were growing and growing. But I was kind of glad you were still little girls.)


On our way home with you girls, Shannay, you sneaked out of your car seat and scared me by touching my shoulder! I had to pull the car over and get you buckled back in. (Parent fail) 

You girls both fell asleep on the way home, so we just put you in bed in the little dresses you were wearing, because we didn't want to wake you up.

It was a very sweet moment for us. Daddy and I both cried as we looked at you lying in your cribs. 

The next morning, we gave you baths, which you weren't too sure you liked. (Don't know how we got a smiling picture out of you Shannay, because you girls barely moved!)

But you LOVED towel time, where we wrapped you in your towels and just let you sit there. 

What fun memories we have of you girls and your towel time!

Then you got to meet your big brothers.  They loved you instantly, just like Daddy and I did.

And we went to the park to celebrate being a family. (That's also when we learned how fast Nikki was at running away!)

God creates families in many different and special ways. We have loved you and thanked God for making us a family ever since the first day we got you."

IT *IS* A GOOD STORY

So, what do you think?  I guess their story is a beautiful story. I'm going to try it out today!

People Stare But They Don't Stop There

Our family looks different than most families. 

I get that.  For any number of reasons we are stare-worthy.

Seriously.

I totally get that.

First off, the girls are twins.  People stare at twins.  All twins.  Not just my twins.

Secondly, we are old, and the twins are young.  People are trying to do the math.  They are perplexed.  So they stare. 

Thirdly, we are white and they are black. 

So people stare.  The staring isn't so bad anymore (though in the beginning it really bugged me!)

Some things perplex me though.

Here is a real life exchange that just happened last week:

Woman: "Oh they're cute.  Are they adopted?"

Me:  "Yes Ma'am and thank you."

Woman:  "Where are they from?"

Me: "Houston."

Woman:  "No I mean where are the "from"?" (she actually made air quotes)

Me: "Houston."

Woman:  "No,  I mean like where is their mother land?"  (not even kidding)

Me:  "Texas?"

Woman:  "No, like are they from Africa, or Ethiopia, or Haiti?"

Me:  "Nope, they're from Houston."

Woman:  "oh." (shrugs shoulders, smiles at me like I just don't understand her question, walks away)

I'm often amazed at the things people say to me.  And sometimes the comments are hysterical (like the lady that told me the girls looked a lot like Zahara . . . Pitt . . . seriously.)

Anyway, I think the thing that perplexes me the most is that in these days and times that our family would be an oddity. 

I'm surprised by that I guess. 

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So come on, I've got to know, what is the craziest thing anyone has said to you about your colorful family?

The Vibrant Color of Family

Our journey to becoming a transracial family is an unusual one.

We were empty nesters. Our grown children had finally, just recently moved out, leaving us to celebrate our parental independence! 

(This picture is of us, celebrating our parental independence in the mountains of Colorado! Don't we look happy? And younger? And rested?) 

Ah, those were the days. We spent our free time dreaming of ways we would spend our free time. The empty nest years had arrived and retirement was just around the corner. Old enough to have raised two kids and still young enough to have sex in every room of the house enjoy life.

I was out with a group of girlfriends one night, when I ran into a woman I know who helps rescue children from the streets. As I often asked when I ran into her, I said, "So, who are you rescuing tonight?" She said, "Twin, 19-month-old girls. You interested?" I'm sure my laugh was somewhere between incredulous and nervous, but I laughed and said, "No way! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it's not a train. It's freedom!" She laughed too, and we went our separate ways.

Fast forward this story 11 days and these little girls were in our home.

To say that they were in rough shape would be a tremendous understatement.  Their hair and skin were literally falling off due to malnutrition, and their emotional state was worse than that.  I won't disclose the many types of abuse they suffered at the hands of family members and caretakers, but just let your mind wander and you will likely encounter the abuse they endured.

But I don't want to focus on the darkness of those days, at least not today, on this inaugural post of What Color is Family. 

You see, God has a plan for each of our lives.  And no matter what we think the written summary of our lives will be, He has a much richer version of the story to tell.

Our family is so much fun to be around!
Someone is always being goofy, and someone is always corralling the girls!

Transracial adoption is our rich story. It is woven together with a vibrancy of color that only our Creator could imagine. I look forward to sharing our journey with you and to hearing your rich stories as well.  There is much to learn and much to be shared with each other. 


Leave me a comment below and tell me about your transracial family.  Better yet, join me on facebook and post a picture of your beautiful family!

Carol