Let the Nations Be Glad

Life with Talitha -- Part 2

In the first weeks or months of Talitha's being part of our family, I found myself being very watchful in two different directions.

1. I was watching Johnny to see if Talitha was as much his daughter as mine. When the idea of adoption had first come up in our family, I was ready to do it and Johnny was more hesitant. Then came the day when adoption was no longer just an idea, because there was an invitation to adopt one particular little girl. We spent time then, praying and seeking counsel.

Then Johnny said Yes, and Talitha became our daughter.

Despite his earlier hesitation, I didn't think his Yes was just to please me, but I needed to be sure. I found myself watching how he acted with her, especially when it wasn't just fun playtime. When she cried at night or had a messy diaper--in other words, when parenting hit its normal rough spots--did he expect me to be the one who should care for her because this was somehow my "project?"

I never saw any such attitude, and haven't until this day. When he said Yes, we said yes wholeheartedly together. Talitha is our daughter.

2. Now we were white parents with a black child. For a while, when I was out in public, I was hyper-aware of people's responses to seeing us. I imagined hundreds of eyes on us. Did they disapprove? Do they think I'm taking good enough care of her?

It seemed a lot of people stared at us more than they would have in our pre-Talitha days. But what I came to realize was this: I stare at cute babies too. Staring doesn't have to mean disapproval.

And what about stranger's comments? In general, white people didn't say anything. More often, a comment would come from an African-American. And it was likely to be something like, "What a beautiful baby!" which I came to hear as implicit approval.

I don't assume that everyone thought it was proper for a white woman to have a black baby, but none of them ever made themselves known.

After a while, I relaxed. I was me and this was my daughter.