What does it mean to me that my son and I do not look alike, that we have ancestors from different continents? What does it mean that my son is a different race than I am? There are actually two answers to that question: It means everything and it means nothing at all.

It means everything because it makes him who he is; every feature, every characteristic, his eyes, his skin color, hair, all a beautiful combination my husband and I could never produce. He loves his culture and so do we. It is who he was fearfully and wonderfully created to be and therefore what we love about him. Our family is blessed and enriched because of his heritage. I thank every ancestor he has because they all contributed their DNA to create this amazing young man who is our son.

At the same time, it means nothing at all.  Who he is, is so many other things. You don’t choose your race. But you can choose to be kind, loving, thoughtful, and compassionate. He chooses those things. We love his smile, his humor, his enthusiasm, his personality. He shares our goofy sense of humor and silly family traditions, a big generous heart and a keen scientific mind. Gives big bear hugs whenever you need one. These qualities and more make him, him and our kid as well.

Loving a son (or daughter) is so beyond the physical, the social, the cultural.  It is eternal. And in eternity, I’m pretty sure race is not a big deal.

Why am I telling you this? For one reason. Because if you or someone you know is ever in this situation, thinking of adopting, maybe these words will be helpful. Adoption and transracial adoption, in particular, involves a gut check and I am being as honest as I know how to be. You will be asking yourself, can I love a child who does not look like me? I want the answer to be yes.

What else do I want?  Easy. Someday, I want a grandchild who is just like him. 

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.  Psalm 139:14