My American dream…
My American dream was to be like everyone else in my school. When I was in first grade my mom came to my classroom and one child gasped, turned to me, and asked, “Is THAT your mother?” I shyly but happily nodded my head, thinking he’d asked because my mommy was so pretty. Years later, it hit me that it was because she, with blonde hair and blue-eyes, stood out among her darker hued neighbors. She was from Scotland. I was 9 years old when another Mexican American visitor to our house told me I was Mexican. I retorted that I was an American and the people across the border were Mexican. He insisted, exasperated I replied, “Well then, I’m a Texican!” But what or who was I? Many struggles for identity later, I finally found acceptance of ME when I came to know Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.
Family, Fun, Faith