A Very Special Family Day {Maybe the Best Part?}

I had grand intentions tonight of finishing the full post about our amusement park trip; but although I did indeed start it, I know I need to do the mature thing and make myself go to bed, rather than staying up all night and finishing it.  :)  But let me just say one special thing about our trip.

Most of the time, Moriah was in the stroller, of course, since her little 17-month-old legs couldn't possibly cover the distance we needed to cross.  But a few times, when we were lingering in an area for a while, I got her out of the stroller and let her walk around.  She loved it.  

 She was quick to grin at those who passed by and smiled at her or spoke to her, but two people in particular caught her attention.  The first was a black man who was running one of the rides in the kiddie section.  For a while, he had no one on the ride or in line, so since he had nothing to do, he watched Moriah as she walked around.  And she watched him.  She would walk towards him and pause to look up at him, then he would hold out his hand over the fence, and she would reach out and touch it before walking away.  Then she would circle around and come back to do it all over again.  It was obvious that the simple joy of this sweet baby girl was lighting up his day...and she was receiving so much delight from him paying attention to her.  I didn't raise my camera to snap a photo because I thought it would be tacky, but I wish I had a picture of her little white hand laying in the palm of his big black one.  I'd like to send a copy to everyone in the world and say, "See?  THIS is how it's supposed to be!"

Later in a different area of the park, there was a young man of Middle Eastern descent sitting on a bench, waiting for his companions.  Moriah was again out of the stroller, walking around; and wouldn't you know, she chose to go towards him, pause a short distance away, and smile at him.  At first, he seemed a little taken-aback; but as she continued to do so, his reserve melted a little, and he would smile back at her, say "hi" in an accented voice, and give a little wave.  Again, I wished for a picture, but let the camera of my heart go "click" as I took a mental one.

Through both of these events, I discovered something:  Moriah is colorblind.

Oh, not literally.  As far as we know, she is able to tell the difference between a red ball and a blue ball, a green cup and a pink one.  But when it comes to the color of people's skin - and even more, the implications of those colors - she is as blind as a bat.

And I thank God for that.

When she smiled at the Middle Eastern man, she didn't wonder if he was a terrorist.  When she walked towards the black man, she didn't have the word "criminal" float through her head.  She doesn't know who George Zimmerman and Trayvon Martin are, or have an opinion about what really happened that night.  She doesn't know - or care - anything about Al Qaeda.  To her, people are people; and if they smile and say "hi" to her, that's all that matters.

Saturday night, Jeff and I went to a new Middle Eastern restaurant in our town for our date night; and besides the delicious food, we enjoyed the atmosphere - listening to the language, savoring the tastes, remembering the cultures we experienced when we lived in the Middle East.  As I confessed to Jeff, it actually made me homesick for Israel.  I'm so grateful that the Iraqi family who owns the restaurant is here in our corner of the world.  My town is richer because of it.

Today I saw some news headlines about the Miss America contest.  I don't normally follow news from the world of beauty pageants, but I discovered that there's been some uproar over the fact that the winner this year is a (beautiful, I might add!) woman of Indian descent.  Apparently some (totally ignorant, and I'd like to use stronger adjectives than that) people felt like she's not American enough (even though she was born and raised in America).  How utterly ridiculous!  (And I'd like to use stronger exclamations than that!)

I want to live in my daughter's world.  I want to have a heart of pure innocence, where people are judged by the expression on their face* rather than the pigmentation of their skin.

* Yes, I know that facial expressions can be deceiving, that not everyone who smiles is truly friendly, and that Moriah will need to be taught to be cautious around strangers.  I'm not advocating an unwise trust of amusement park employees.  I'm not suggesting that when Moriah is a few years older, she should approach young men sitting on benches.  I'm definitely going to teach her about abuse and how to prevent it, as well as accepted social etiquette.  And needless to say, I'll keep watching her like a hawk - just like I did during this recent experience.  But I'm sure you can understand the point I'm making.

The point is this: I wish we could all be colorblind.

Just like Moriah.