It started off as a weird conversation with a 3-year-old about how Jesus has skin.

And then he threw a quick curveball I wasn’t expecting.

“When my skin gonna be white, Mama?”

Oh, darling.

“Your skin isn’t going to be white, sweetheart. God made your skin brown. It’s beautiful brown. I love it that way!”

His face was sad again.

“But I want my skin to be white.”

“Why? Because Mommy’s skin is white?”

He nodded. “And Daddy’s.”

Hugs and kisses and reassurances did nothing to make him stop asking for white skin. Over and over he said, “I want to have white skin.” Over and over I told him that he will always have brown skin, and it’s so good, because God made him that way.

I love his chocolate skin. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

It’s my prayer that in time God will help him understand the beauty of the color of his skin, and the beauty of our family with its mis-matched skintones. I see God’s grace in the shades of our skin. He made all of it, on purpose. And beautiful.