I am my mother’s daughter

I am my mother’s daughter

The day I was born, the story goes as such.  I was one of those newborn abductions.  A code pink. My mother tells me it probably was because I was a fair looking thing born in the heart of India.  Well I was born in a county hospital, a fat 36 weeker, to a very petite Asian woman.  Still very fair looking. There, in the middle of the night, an empty bassinet with no baby in sight.

The ironic part of this whole story is that I spent a good chunk of my childhood trying to get burned by the sun. I spent hours on the basketball court or chasing boys. My grandma always told me how I didn’t belong to this family, how I was the only one that didn’t look like the rest of our clan. I was the wrong shade of brown and didn’t have the right features. And my mother, always telling me to come inside because I would get too dark. Didn’t she know I was trying to look like the rest? When she finally told me the story of the day I was born, I finally understand she was trying to protect who I was.

How easily we judge based on appearances, based on someone’s background, shortcomings, or behaviors? We judge people if they are having an off day. We don’t know what people are going through, what battles they are facing, or what hardships life has thrown at them. Some days we are never enough for the people around us. Yet do not fret; the Lord does not judge based on appearance or height (thank God!). The Lord looks at the heart. Some of the most radically beautiful people I know, are those that have the most amazing hearts and yet, I hear those are the people that are always gossiped about for their shortcomings.

The nurse that kidnapped me that day thought “hey what an awesome looking baby”, little did she know the baby would one day be as stubborn as a mule. I’m not fully sure if my mom found the right baby, but I’m sure there weren’t many Italian or Latina babies being born in India that day either. And the Lord knows, only the petite Asian woman is equipped to handle this stubborn mule. Despite the fact that there is absolutely nothing Indian about me, when I have moments of doubt I remember I inherited these extra large earlobes from somebody.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: