“To the person who left this note on my car at Zaxbys in Plant City: I guess finding a note like this on my car after dinner should make me angry. Maybe it did, but more than angry it made me feel really really sad. I pity the person who sees my family and can only see the colors of our skin because in our home we make no such distinction.
In our home, we choose not to define or be defined because of a color. The ‘black girl’ as you call her, is so much more than the label you place on her. She has a name; we call her Leah. She has a beautiful personality, a silliness that is endearing and a laugh that is infectious. She is talented and creative and hilarious. In fact, as we drove into the Zaxby’s parking lot tonight she was bouncing and giggling in the back seat, being her incredibly unique self.
See, you see a black girl in my back seat but not the countless prayers I prayed begging God for her. You can’t see the times I’ve cried or lost sleep wondering if I was good enough for her. You see the ‘black girl’ with the white family, but I see an answer to my prayers, my daughter, and my miracle. I’m sorry that when you see my children, you judge them by the difference in skin color, I truly am.
Both of my children were abandoned by their birth mothers. Both of them were born to addicts. And both of them deserve the very best of life, and I’ll admit they deserve more than I could ever give them. Some people would even say my husband, and I have done some great thing by bringing these children into our home but do you know what? These two children are my heroes. They are the reason I get up on days I don’t feel like it. They are the reasons I smile when things aren’t perfect. They are my joy, my hope, and my life and I am so sorry that you can’t see the past the differences of our skin color to be able to see any of that.
If this note ever finds you, I want you to know I am not angry and I would love to buy you dinner and offer you the chance to get to know our wonderfully unique family. God bless you!”