Love Beyond Color: A Father's Perspective on What Truly Matters. 1403
It was a normal morning, just like any other. My daughter had changed her profile picture on social media, something that didn’t seem like it should be anything more than a simple update. I didn’t think twice about it. But within minutes, my phone buzzed with a text that caught me off guard. It was from a relative, someone who I thought I knew well, and it said, “I didn’t know she was dating a black boy, did you?”
The words stung, and for a long moment, I didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t because of who the message was from; it was because of the way it made me feel. It wasn’t that I had never thought about my daughter’s choice in a partner—of course, I had. But I didn’t expect to be confronted with a question like that, especially not from someone who should have known better.
I sat with the question all day, turning it over in my mind, trying to find the right words. I didn’t want to give a knee-jerk reaction, but I also didn’t want to ignore it. After all, this wasn’t just about my daughter and her relationship—it was about the way people still viewed race, and how deep those biases could run.
By the end of the day, I had come up with a response, but it wasn’t one I was going to send personally. It wasn’t for just one person—it was for anyone who might ever ask or think the same thing. It was a message that I wanted to share, to be clear about how I feel about my daughter’s relationship, and to shed light on what really matters in life.
Yes, I knew she was dating him. But no, his skin color doesn’t define who he is. What matters, what defines him, is how he treats my daughter. That’s the only thing that matters to me.
I see my daughter dating a young man who shows nothing but respect when he comes into my home. He greets me with a “Yes, Ma’am” or “No, Ma’am” and genuinely listens to me when we talk about football, baseball, or whatever else comes up. He doesn’t rush out the door without acknowledging me, he always says goodbye, and not once has he shown any lack of manners or respect. That, to me, is a big deal.
I see my daughter dating a boy who treats her with kindness and care. He takes her on dates, not to some rowdy party or a club on the weekends, but to ballgames, out for a meal, doing things that show he values her time and presence. He doesn’t push her into situations that would make her uncomfortable. And what’s even more impressive is how he respects her priorities. He takes her to church every Sunday, and that’s something I can truly appreciate. It’s rare these days to see young people putting faith first, but he does. He plays in the band, and my daughter sits with his family. They go together, they share that experience, and to me, that’s a testament to his character.
And let me be clear on something: He doesn’t hit her. He doesn’t cuss her out. He doesn’t lie to her or make her cry. These are the things that matter most to me. I’ve seen relationships where those things were present, and I would never want that for my daughter. Would I rather she date a white boy who treated her poorly, just to avoid her dating someone of another race? Absolutely not. My daughter deserves better. She deserves someone who will love her and treat her like the queen she is. And that’s exactly what she has found.
So, to anyone who might wonder why my daughter is with him, or who might question it based on the color of his skin, I want you to understand this: I’m not concerned with the color of his skin. I’m concerned with how he treats her. And he treats her with nothing but respect, kindness, and love. He makes her laugh, he listens to her, and he supports her dreams. That’s what matters. That’s what defines the man he is.
At the end of the day, this isn’t just about race. It’s about love. It’s about the kind of person my daughter has chosen to be with, and I couldn’t be happier with her choice. This young man makes her feel valued, cherished, and understood. He doesn’t fit into the narrow definitions that some might place on him based on his skin color. He is his own person, and he has earned my respect in the way he treats my daughter.
I know people will have their opinions. They will say things, think things, and sometimes they won’t understand why I am so accepting of my daughter’s relationship. But at the end of the day, all that matters is that my daughter has someone who loves her for who she is—not for the color of her skin, not for her family’s expectations, but for her heart, her soul, and her spirit.
And you know what? That makes me happy. It makes me proud to see her in a relationship where she is treated with the love and respect she deserves. Because that’s something I’ve never had in my life, and I’m glad she does. I want her to know that no matter who she chooses, as long as they treat her well and make her happy, that’s all that matters to me.
So, to those who still have questions or doubts about her relationship, or who might think the color of his skin matters more than who he is as a person, I say this: Look at the way he treats her. Look at the way he treats people. That’s who he is. And in my eyes, he’s a man of great worth. And I’m proud to say that my daughter has found someone who loves her, someone who respects her, and someone who will be there for her through it all.
Love is love. And that’s what truly defines a relationship.
A Mother's Unwavering Love: How One Broken Cat and Her Kitten Healed Together Against All Odds. 915
It was a quiet evening, the kind that made the world feel still, as I walked through the yard. The last light of the day filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the ground. But then, something caught my eye. Beneath the protective canopy of a banana tree, a scene unfolded before me that broke my heart into pieces.
There, under the tree, sat a mother cat. She looked frail, her fur thin and patchy, her body weakened by disease, and her leg appeared to be broken. Despite the pain she must have been feeling, she remained close to the tiny kitten curled beside her. The kitten was still, its body cold. The sight of them together, so vulnerable, stirred something deep within me. The mother leaned over the small bundle, licking its head gently, as if whispering, "Wake up, my dear… Mama’s here."
Even in her own suffering, she tried to protect her baby from the harshness of the world around them. She used her remaining strength to shield the kitten with her paw, covering it from the wind that had begun to pick up. The love between them was palpable, silent but unyielding.
I stood there, watching for a moment, my heart breaking as I realized how desperate their situation was. The tiny kitten, so fragile and lifeless, and the mother, so weak and alone. I couldn’t just walk away. I approached them slowly, not wanting to startle the mother. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with fear, but also a glimmer of hope. It was as if she knew that I could be the one to help.
I carefully knelt down and wiped the kitten’s small body, hoping beyond hope that it was not too late. As I did, a small, barely noticeable movement came from the kitten. It was weak—so weak—but alive. I held my breath, knowing that the fragile life in front of me had a chance.
The mother, sensing the shift, immediately wrapped herself around the kitten protectively, as though trying to reassure it, to reassure me, that she wasn’t giving up. Her instinct to care, to love, was still strong, despite the pain she was enduring. I gently scooped both of them into my arms and took them home, knowing that they needed more than just my help—they needed time, comfort, and a safe place to heal.
The following days were filled with care and tenderness. The mother cat, though weak, never stopped looking after her kitten. She always allowed the kitten to eat first, even when her own hunger must have been overwhelming. Her love never wavered, despite the suffering she had endured. Day by day, they began to heal, both physically and emotionally.
The mother, once unable to walk without pain, slowly regained her strength. And as she did, so did the kitten, whose tiny legs became stronger with each passing day. I could see the bond between them deepen even further as they spent more time together, nestled close in a warm spot, always touching, always aware of one another’s presence.
Two weeks later, I watched them both take their first steps together. The mother, no longer limping, walked steadily beside her kitten. The sight of them walking side by side, after everything they had been through, was nothing short of miraculous. The kitten, once so weak, now trotted happily behind her, full of life and energy. It was clear that they had not only survived—they had thrived together.
As I watched them sleep that night, curled up in the corner of the room, side by side, I couldn’t help but be moved. There they were, a mother and her child, their bond unbroken, their love unwavering. Despite everything they had endured, despite the fear, the pain, and the uncertainty, their love had never faltered. It had kept them going when everything else seemed hopeless.
This is what true love looks like, I thought. A love that doesn’t ask for anything in return, that gives without hesitation, that never gives up. The love of a mother who, even in the face of her own suffering, continues to care for her child with every ounce of strength she has left.
Watching them sleep, I realized something important: love like that never fades. It transcends all obstacles, all pain, and all hardship. It’s a love that is enduring, constant, and pure. The kind of love that heals not just the body, but the heart as well.
I look at them now—mother and kitten, walking together, sharing meals, curled up in each other’s embrace—and I am reminded of the incredible power of love. It’s a love that doesn’t just survive the hardest moments; it thrives in them. And I’m honored to witness such a beautiful, unspoken promise between them. Through the darkest times, love always finds a way. ❤️
