The color of friendship

I recently finished reading "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. I really enjoyed the book, and it left me with two thoughts. First, I really wished I could have given this book to my grandmother, Mother Dot, to read. I think she would have enjoyed remembering the time period in which it was written, plus it reminded me a lot of her favorite book of all time, "To Kill a Mockingbird," which she read about once a month up until the time she died at age 98.

But, most of all, it made me thankful that I did not grow up in a time period, region, or most of all, family, that taught me that people were inferior because their skin color was different than mine. As parents, we are the most influential people in our childrens' lives. And what we say and do is watched, learned, and imitated by our children even when we don't realize it.

While reading this book, I realized that my parents were raised in roughly the same time period as I was reading about. They both spent all or portions of their childhood in southern states. Yet, they both managed to learn, and teach to their children, that a person's skin color does not determine their worth. I am thankful to my parents for this.

To be honest, I can never remember my parents having a conversation with me about how I should treat people that have a different skin color than mine. In our household, it was just expected that you treated everyone the same - black, white, or green, it didn't matter. My parents never had to sit down and tell me this, because that's how they acted to everyone around them. Unlike many of the people around them, my parents had no problem sending their children to an inner city school. And, that is something I am very thankful for. Because while attending that school, I learned that there are nice people, and not so nice people, in every so-called category (geeks, preps, jocks, rich, poor, whites, blacks, etc.). And that knowledge encouraged me to seek out friendships in places I might have been hesitant to do so otherwise.

Which leads me to another lesson on this subject that I have learned recently - not from my parents, but from my daughter. My daughter's best friend, Anna, lives around the corner from us. The two girls love each other so much, and it's so sweet to watch them together. Ever since Elizabeth was barely able to walk, as soon as these two girls saw each other, they would start running toward each other and hug and jump around together - and they still do. Anna is the sweetest girl you will ever meet, with a beautiful smile that lights up a room. And, she is black.

Here are pictures of the two girls from September 2008:






And again two years later at Elizabeth's 5th birthday party:





A while back, after playing with Anna, Elizabeth came to me looking very sad. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "Mommy, Anna looks very different than me." My heart sank a little bit hearing those words. I was worried that she had somehow picked up on the world's view of their "differences" and it would taint the beauty of their friendship. But, I put on a smile, and asked her, "Oh, yeah? What do you think is different?" And then she sighed, as if it was hard to have such a dunce for a parent (come to think of it, it was very similar to the sigh I often get from my teenager!). She shrugged her shoulders, and in a voice that portrayed this was the most obvious thing in the world, she said, "Haven't you noticed? Anna's hair is curly, and my hair is straight!" I laughed out loud in relief when she said this. Then, explained to her that God makes hair in all different colors and textures, and everyone's hair is beautiful in its own special way.

To this day, Elizabeth has never once mentioned the fact that Anna has a different skin color than her. Instead, when she looks at Anna, she doesn't notice if she's black or white. She just sees her best friend.

Recently, Elizabeth and I were playing a game where I would say a feeling or thing, and she would tell me what color it reminded her of. Some of the answers were easy for her (i.e., blue = sad), while others were harder (i.e., proud). One in particular that stumped her was the word, "friend." (She ended up picking pink, because it's her favorite color.) But, later, when I thought about it, I realized that there is a better answer for the word "friend." To me, the color of true friendship is "clear." With a true friend, you don't have to paint yourself a certain color - they see you exactly the way you are, and love you anyway. I've had to learn this lesson the hard way in life on a few occasions, when I've found out that people I thought were friends really were not. But, it's amazing to me that my young daughter is the one who has demonstrated this principle for me most vividly. When she looks at her best friend, she doesn't see her as "black" or "white" - just as "Anna." And, that's exactly the way it should be.

5th birthday letter

Dear Elizabeth,

When you were about to turn 1 year old, I decided I would write you a letter for each of your birthdays, so some day you could go back and read about what you were like at that age, and be reminded of how much I’ve always loved you. I can’t believe it’s already time to sit down and write Version 5 of the birthday letters, but it’s true – your 5th birthday is only 2 days away.

This year has been such a wonderful year with you. You’re about to graduate from preschool, and are so excited to be signed up to start kindergarten in August. In fact, you were so disappointed that you couldn’t start the day we signed you up! Your only consolation was the knowledge that your cousin Brooke had to wait to start kindergarten too. (Yes, you’ve inherited our family’s competitive gene as well.) I, on the other hand, find it very bittersweet to think of that day rapidly approaching. I know you will run into the school, excited about all the possibilities, while I will wave goodbye and try not to cry, wondering how my baby girl could be so big and grown up already.

But, in fact, there is very little about you that is “babyish” anymore. Of all your baby talk, the only word that you still use is “butcept” (instead of except), and I can’t bear to tell you the real word, because then all of your baby ways will be completely gone.

Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that you are my daughter. I was always such a shy child, while you’re eager to go to the park and play with any new friend you meet that day. I was a tomboy, while you are such a girly-girl. In fact, you are now giving me fashion advice, and even making sure my shoes and necklaces match my outfits before I leave the house. For you, the highlight of turning 5 has been getting your ears pierced and showing off your new sparkly pink earrings, while I still have yet to get my ears pierced, even as an adult. But, even with those differences, we are still very alike in other ways. I still refer to you as my “mini-me,” because there is such an unmistakable family resemblance. You even got your hair cut like mine earlier this year, because you wanted to be “just like Mommy.” And, we both love to read, sing, act goofy, and just spend time with each other. I’m pleased to know that I’m still your favorite playmate, and try to cherish the time we spend together, because I know your opinion of me may change drastically in just a few short years. I still have to be away from you more than I want to because of work, but I hope you will remember the many fun times we have together - shopping trips, makeovers, cooking, games, etc. – instead of the times I was away.

This year, your empathy and compassion have grown even more than your physical stature. You have learned how to relate to other people, and your sensitive nature shines through in your relationships. You have cried the hardest this year on the few occasions when you realized you had unintentionally hurt someone else’s feelings. I am so proud of you for already having learned the lesson that your words and actions can cause great joy or great sorrow, and your sweet nature makes you strive to bring joy to those around you.

It has also brought me great joy this year to watch you learn more about Jesus Christ – and fall in love with him. You have openly invited him to live in your heart, and at any time during the day, you will ask us to stop and pray with you. I know God smiles at your sweet prayers just as much as I do. Every day, you remind me of God’s miracles all around us. And the excitement you experience as you learn about Jesus is a good reminder to me of the excitement I need to have for our Savior as well. Even before you were born, your father and I were praying that you would love Jesus. And it is so exciting for us to be able to witness that prayer being answered.

You are my precious baby girl. (And I’m the only one you still let call you that. To everyone else, you are a BIG girl…) I love you so much. Thank you for letting me see the world through your eyes, and making me a better person because of it.

Happy Birthday, Libby Lou. I love you!

Mommy