Monday, September 10, 2012


The little ash blonde boy tapped on the window next to our table.  We looked up from our chicken feast and smiled.  He gestured with with a wave of his hand for Drew to come play.

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"No," Drew responded.

I smiled at the little boy as he stood, waiting not so patiently, for his potential playmate to finish his lunch.

Finally the last nugget was consumed and I told the kids they could go to the playground.  Drew took off at full speed and joined the ash blonde boy.  Within 10 seconds of their first face-to-face meeting, Drew tapped on the same window and yelled through the glass,
"He's my friend!"

They played with abandon, running and yelling and walking with arms draped over one another's shoulders.  They were free.  They were warriors fighting the enemy blonde and fair and the other as ebony as night.

But those smiles, they were a perfect pair...their smiles shone white with the joy of just being boys.

These two boys, they didn't just see color.  They celebrated it.  My son loves the differences we are graced with and happily tells me, "Mom, my friend is white...
or tan...
or brown like me."

"Mom, he's my friend."

I fully believe we were never intended to be color-blind.

What a waste that would be.

Our world, our circles of influence, are rich with shades that defy recreation.  It is a rare artist who can perfectly depict what God so freely and easily graces us with...a myriad of color, of features, of hair textures and accents and beauty.

What a waste to pretend not to notice.

Yes, indeed, we should celebrate the obvious!  We are fearfully and wonderfully made.  We should take notice and joy in that fact, just like my son.  Just like most of our children...

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