Ruby came home this afternoon from being on a playdate with two of her friends from school. She was more erractic, hyper, and impulsive than usual, and she was throwing her body around even more than usual too (flopping onto the couch or floor at full speed, purposely bumping into a sibling and knocking him/her over)...all behaviors not foreign to her, but certainly more amplified. Humph! It was late afternoon, the boys were clingy and fussy, and Sadie was whiney...and now Ruby enters the scene with this nervous energy... I was taking deep breaths and trying not to let it show in my face what I was selfishly feeling "c'mon everybody, why can't you each be easy for once." Then at dinner Ruby was fidgety, and grumpy. She complained that she wasn't feeling well, but wasn't able to tell me how/why.

Then the spark that set the night on fire...she started talking about her hair: "Momma, I'm so excited for school tomorrow! Are you going to put my braids in my hair tonight?" "Well, Ruby, I can put your braids back in tomorrow after school, but tonight it's already getting late, and you're tired and not feeling well." Instant tears and loud crying follows. "Momma, NO! I want my braids for school!!" for the next 20 minutes we go back and forth discussing whether or not she will have braids in time for school. I tell her all my logical reasons why it isn't feasible for me to do her hair tonight, and I give her three options of a temporary style: one puff, two puffs, or an afro...but no choice is acceptable to her. We end up in her bedroom, I cradle her in my arms and sing to her, and give her a sermonette about how God says our appearance isn't so important, blah, blah, blah... she isn't having it. She insists on braids.

Then a crack in the dam, and the floodwaters knock me over: "Momma, *Riley (*name changed to protect the youth) said my hair was weird today on the playdate." And instant tears, moans of sorrow, and her head buries into my chest.
Oh.dear.God. I start crying. I try reminding her Who made her and is the only One who gets to say what is true about her, I try to relate, console, empathize, encourage, affirm, compliment... but the truth is: it's hard to be different.

So, plans changed. While she was in the bathtub I tried to put some braids into her amazing hair. I did about a dozen before she started yawning and begging for her bed. She said, while staring down at the bath water, "Momma, I just don't like being the only brown girl in my class." What about so-n-so: the two brown boys and the hispanic girl? nope, that doesn't count. "I just wish I was yellow like all the girls in my class. I just wish I wasn't brown. I just want to be like Sadie and have lighter skin..."

What's a Momma to say? Here she is, my emotional stuffer, baring her soul to me. Is now the time to empathize, or to try to change her mind/feelings? I said, "I know. It's hard to be different. But I don't wish you were yellow, but I just wish there were more brown girls in your class...." I went on to share about how I was the only little girl with glasses and who still regularly wet the bed until I was at least 11 yrs old, and how that was hard too, but God makes us each different, blah, blah, blah. But the truth is - I no longer wear glasses or wet the bed...and my daughter will always have brown skin, and the implications (good and bad) that come with being a girl/woman of color. And then on top of that - she will always be a transracially adopted kid. Would you pray for Ruby? and Sadie? and our boys too? The road ahead has some rough spots. No doubt God is good, and no doubt this is His best for each of them because He ordained this for their lives, but it certainly doesn't make it easy...and we just want to raise them to love Him most, and be thankful for His good and perfect will - and rejoice in their brown skin and curly hair, and most of all rejoice when their names are written in the book of Life.