From the Heart on Trayvon Martin

My Babies

The short post below is from a local missionary working with disadvantaged children.

I make a conscious effort to keep my FB light and fluffy. Sometimes it’s more of a struggle than others. Catching up on posts from yesterday has left me sad, frustrated, and a little angry. I’ll be taking a break for a while.

But before I go, let me leave you with this: Once, I was out with a group of my ‘extra sons’, and we were getting something to eat at McDonald’s. As we walked in, we were getting some serious looks. Ladies slid their purses closer; the tension was thick. Curious, I looked behind me to try to see what they saw: 7 big, brown teenage boys, a couple with dreadlocks and sagging jeans, a couple hoodies….and I thought, “Ok, so I guess these people are a little scared of what they see.”

But all I saw were my BABIES, who just spent the last 10 minutes entertaining my grumpy toddler with a game of peekaboo. Good, sweet boys. My babies.
Travon Martin was somebody’s BABY.

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