when we adopted our kids we were able to make choices.

girl or boy.

single birth, twins, triplets.

only the healthiest of child or not.

ethnicity. (caucasian, african american, bi-racial, different international options depending on the agency)

my husband and i talked about it and selected the options that freed all the boxes.

a baby is pure love.

we didn’t need a menu.

we were so grateful to be parents to a wonderful, precious little human, any color.

my son is bi-racial.

i would check that box again and again and again every day for all of my days.

also, that box comes with a fear i had no idea will follow me the rest of my life.

racism is real.

i see it.

i feel it.

i live it. a part of my life. yours, as well.

just maybe different.

treating anyone differently based on their color, their nationality, their ethnicity, their culture. treating anyone differently based on something they can not change, just because of their DNA is hate.

it is within each of our families whether we realize it or not, whether we admit it or not. it lives inside and feeds on sparks of strife, embers of discontent, shards of fear.

my daughter is white.

my son is white and black, both.

i teach my daughter to drive differently than my son because if someone pulls her over she has a better chance of compassion or concern. my son needs to put his hands where they police can see them, needs to make sure they know he’s not a threat.

i know why. i understand.

my family is law enforcement.

some of our closest friends are law enforcement.

i live both sides. i get it. i know.

so many of our law enforcement, paramedics, military, medical personnel, they are real heroes.

some (just like the rest of us) are not. they use their positions of power to abuse. it’s not ok. but, like the rest of us, we can’t keep thinking every group is all or nothing, all bad or all good.

we are a mix.

every one of us, a mix.

my daughter can jump a few neighbors fences in-between our yards to get to a friends house. my son can jump that same fence to go to the same friends and maybe get shot when someone driving by sees them jump and calls the police for fear of a burglary.

i tell my son no matter what your friends are doing, never ever, ever jump into someone’s yard over the fence.


not even one time.

he hated when i talked like this when he was little. he said mom, it’s not like that. i hated it, too, but i knew however sad it is i had to teach him. yet,

when is the best age to teach a child about hate.

better yet, why do we even have to?

a neighbor sent my son home during a funeral service for their dead friend (a child) because their dad didn’t want his friends and family to pull up and see a black kid in the yard.

they told him that.

out loud.

like it was ok.

sent him home.

like we would understand.

of course, my son could play there when no one they knew was around; but the day to honor his friend, people may see, you’ve got to go home.

he was 10.

driving while black. it’s real. it’s dangerous.

walking while black. it’s real. it’s dangerous.

living while black. it’s real. it’s dangerous.

i’m a mom of a bi-racial son. believe me when i tell you. the fear is real. the threat is real.

kneeling on someone’s throat, anyone’s throat and suffocating them. it’s not ok.

we should protest. we should line the streets. we should kneel in the roads with our hands up and say never again, what ever it takes.

whatever it takes to show we are all united; we all agree.


capitalizing on everyone’s pain and destroying our country from the inside out, that’s not ok either.

none of this is ok.

don’t get sucked in with politicizing one side or the other.

making choices it’s all this or all that. a solid wall of hate in-between.

bad people are taking advantage of real pain, real sorrow and real problems to destroy our country from the inside.

don’t be a part of that extra pain.

solve the problems we have; let’s not create new ones.

who i pray for is all of the moms.

we kiss our kids and they step out into a world for good or for ill or for something in-between.

there is a world of moms of these people in these streets. they can make the difference …… pray for them and their children. that we all find the way to heal, fix things and come through better.

you know me. i am your friend. i am your business colleague. i am your sister or your cousin. you are with me here because we have a connection.

my son is bi-racial.

my daughter is not.

i love them both more than my very own life.

i live in america where i knew they’d be safe.

my privilege is to love them.

trust me when i humbly ask you.

pray for all of the moms and our children.

please pray.

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