Last night, I couldn’t sleep. We don’t have cable and my wireless has basically puttered out. My days are spent in bed or on the couch or at the hospital or doctor’s office or occasionally accompanying Greg to get Evan from school. This means I haven’t kept up on my current events (shame on me) and hadn’t heard about Baltimore in as timely a manner as I usually would have; however, I did find out about the riots just before going to bed. This didn’t bode well.
I was born lucky. He was born lucky. They were born lucky.
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Xavier was born lucky. The day he left the Cabbage Patch and became mine, I realized what my parents meant when they talked about loving regardless. I loved my [black] baby doll with all my heart, no less (and yet no more) than his [white] sister Kimberly. As a kid, it never occurred to me that people would look down on you or love you less because of who you loved. I sang my heart out to “Jesus loves the little children / all the children of the world / red and yellow black and white / they are precious in His sight…”. And I loved my Xavier.