Sunburned Blan

   One of the things I have a love/hate relationship with about the house I live in and the kids I know is their capacity for noting and discussing physical differences. The kids frequently examine my skin, head, hair, arms, and legs for things that are remarkable to them. Then they comment on them. Freckles, dandruff, the mole on my left arm, all have been catalogued and discussed by the kids in minute detail. The upside of this is that is has freed me to ask more questions than I might have otherwise, for fear of being accidentally offensive.

   Last week we went up in the mountains past Miragoane, the next town down the highway from us. The view was spectacular and this Florida girl absolutely savored a day in the sunshine, riding in the back of a truck. Until I got home and saw my sunburned skin. I tried to be conscientious about sunscreen application, but apparently I did not try hard enough. So, this whole Leah-is-sunburned thing has been a source of fascination for the kids here, who have been monitoring it since it happened.

   On Friday night we all looked at my red forehead and arms, and in my broken Kreyol I told them I had been burned by the sun. We talked about whether it hurts (yes) and how it is not good. The next stage in sunburns is of course the peeling, which started this morning. We have a couple younger girls at the house right now, who were seriously freaked out when they saw it. One girl in particular made horrified faces when she noticed my forehead,  and it has been priceless to try to talk to them about the sun and the burn I had and how this is part of the healing.

  I love this opportunity to talk freely about these things, to learn about each other’s races, and to laugh together. My prayer is that this experience is part of the building blocks that lead us into relationship with each other, recognizing and celebrating our differences, even when they are as casual as a sunburn.