Who does God say my Daughter is????

I have never really given much thought to the fact that I am in an interracial marriage. Truly, I find more humor in our differences than frustration (we'll laugh about that in another post). But I thought long and hard about it last weekend.

We were at Wal-mart. Cruising through the kids isle when a couple walked passed me. Right on the neck of a guy with a shaved head, dirty clothes and equally disturbing girl that was with him...was a swastika. That's right, a swastika.


I stood there with Presley on my hip, shocked.


We live in southern California. My mother is from Scotland, with a Shrek accent and all, my sister in law through my brother is Japanese and my other brother has kids that are a quarter Mexican. I choose to surround myself with people who are not ignorant. While I think minor prejudices somewhat exist in all of us, to truly hate someone you have never met because they are not white...shocks me. Don't they know the history of the "white race"??? Don't they know where they came from???

As the man and woman walk passed me, an awkward unspoken moment happens and I look to my husband. He could really care less. He almost seemed immune. The old saying "I am rubber you are glue, what ever you say bounces off me and sticks to you".comes to mind.. He moved here when he was 9 from Taiwan and has encountered people like this all his life...so this is not shocking to him at all.


As they leave, he comes up to me and says "let's go". I walk by his side, my heart just plain grieved.

I wasn't grieved for me. I know people stare at Terry and I sometimes. I have always been proud to have married someone outside my race. I truly assume, if they are thinking anything, its..."how cool is she".

But, after I had Presley this is my second encounter with something like this. So I wasn't grieved for me, I was grieved for my daughter. I was grieved that she may encounter people who judge her just because of what she looks like, even worse hate her. The mother bear in me in visions tearing anyone apart who would possible harm my daughter, or want harm to come to her just because she is half Chinese. But that means I care what they think.

But...I don't want her to be like me, I want her to be like her father. He is so strong in my eyes. He could truly care less. He has more important things to do than think or worry what others think of him. He cares more about what God thinks of him. Again, he cares more about what God thinks of him.

So as I embark on this journey of raising a girl in America that is half white half chinese I ask God for wisdom. I want her to be more concerned with what God thinks of her than what others do. I don't want her to live in fear, or feel inadequate becuse of what some people in the world may say of her. I will raise my daughter not to look to "man" for her worth, but to God who says she is "fearfully and wonderfully" made.