this man i love

So I've told you some of my story. If you are reading for the first time, it is in fact a story taking place over time, so beginning with the oldest post first is the way to get up to speed.

Or, if you wish, the condensed version:

I was raised in the Midwest among views that were blatantly racist and with love that was always conditional. I spent much of my adult life expelled from my family due to my desire to make decisions that were mine alone and for not conforming to an expected role. I hit some bumps and took some sharp turns along the way. Did some typical things like get married, had a child, got divorced. I was contentedly living my single life, raising my son for about eight years.




Then out of the blue I fell in love. Mind altering, life changing, live happily ever after love. The man I love is many things. One is that his skin is a beautiful shade of Hershey Chocolate. Some people would call it black. My skin? Well my skin is white. This situation of the contrasting skin colors resulted in my son and I to be permanently banned from my family. Sometimes in life we have to take a stand. They choose to place skin color above family and I chose to honor their choice. Now here we are, living happily ever after, me and my prince. In addition to the son I brought to our family, he brings two beautiful daughters, so we now total five.

In a nutshell, there you have it.

Now who is this man, this prince I share my life with? What is his character? Where does he stand in this story of a family divided all because of race and hate?

This is a man of extremely strong character. He consistently and confidently knows where he stands on all matters. Morally this man is a rock, solid and unwavering. This man is the fairest person I have even known. He can objectively look at any situation and see the unclouded truth. This man is profoundly spiritual with a deep understanding of the Bible. He will always try to do the right thing, even if it's at his own expense.

This man and I have discussed racial issues endlessly, from every imaginable angle. We have dissected, analyzed and debated about my family and their views from my childhood until the present time.

Even though he is hated sight unseen just because of his skin color and for having the nerve to love their daughter, he doesn't hate. In our conversations, he calls them by name as if he knows them. He wants to know all he can about them, their childhoods, education, the places they lived, who their siblings are, what they like to do in day to day life. Should they come to our home, he would open our door to them, pull them inside and do all he could to make them feel welcome. He is a much bigger person than I will ever be.

I closed the door on them with the resolve that it never be opened again. He is willing to open it at a moments notice.

This story, as many stories go, has so many unpredictable twists, turns and angles. For every answer there is another question. One insurmountable question within me is how to forgive. If I don't forgive, am I not creating a hate within myself? I know I have to forgive in order to move on and be a better person.

Exactly what am I forgiving? Racism or conditional love. Perhaps the answer is both.