“Mommy,” my six year old daughter called from her place on the couch.
I was very into my work, so I wasn’t paying much attention to her. “Hmm,” I called after the third mommy.
“Why am I so brown?”
That got my attention. I turned to look at her and she was holding her arm up to her face so she could examine it. “What do you mean?”
“My skin is brown. Why?”
I didn’t know what to tell her, I had never seen her as a color before. “Well,” I started slowly.
“Gavin says it’s because God left me in the oven cooking for too long and I got burnt.”
I hid my smile because she was so serious. “God didn’t burn you Arabelle, He made you just like He wanted you. Your brother is brown too,” I pointed out.
“But you’re not, and neither is Gavin.”
“No, I’m not brown,” I replied, looking at my own pasty skin. “I am white.”
“Daddy says you are VERY white.”
“I’m not that white,” I grumbled.
“My teacher got a new baby from Neo…Neo…from somewhere far away.” She nodded her head until her brown curls bounced. “Her baby is really brown, like chocolate.”
“People are all different colors.”
“Hmmm,” I wasn’t sure what to say.
“You know what I think?” she asked in her grown up voice.
“What do you think?”
“I think he must like us all to be different colors so that when He looks down from heaven he can see a pretty picture instead of a boring one.”
“That sounds about right. And He placed us just where we are supposed to be to complete his picture.”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Will I ever be white like you?”
“No, and I’ll never be brown like you,” I wrinkled my nose at my hand. “Ever,” I repeated.
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