Sitting in a restaurant with Hubby the other day, I noticed a family walk in. They were very plump and chose to sit at a table instead of a booth which allowed them more room. Although I do not want to sound mean, they were so round that they looked like large basketballs with tiny heads, arms, and legs. WHERE did they find clothing to fit? There was no denying that they were related, not so much based on physical characteristics, but because they seemed to really like to overeat, based on their looks and the huge amount of food they ordered.

At a different table, finishing their meal, another family sat. The dad was balding and the mom had short curly red hair. There were two teenage girls at their table, both with voluminous hair overflowing with scarlet whorls and ringlets. They were both paying attention to their phones while their dad tried to make conversation with them. Realizing it was a lost cause, he started to laugh, made a dismissive hand gesture, and started to talk to the mom.

In church last Sunday, a well-groomed family sat in the second row. They enthusiastically participated in the church service and seemed very sweet. Both dad and the son were wearing ties, and the females wore dresses and had meticulous make-up. They were a family bonded by their spirituality with the understanding that God loved them all, even their son who is transgendered.

My physical appearance is a combination of both my mom and my dad. My face resembles my mother, although my wide hips resemble my father’s side of the family, and I have his thin, lifeless hair rather than my mother’s gorgeous full head of curls. Both my brother and I had ears that stuck straight out, resembling Alfred E. Newman from Mad magazine. Because my hair was so thin, they stuck out right through my hair.

My oldest son, Francis, is six feet four inches tall like Hubby, and has a head of hair, (or lack thereof,) just like his dad. Unfortunately, he inherited the same eye condition my brother had, but fortunately, he inherited my intelligence, which has served him well in getting his Ph.D. from Cambridge University and his lucrative job at the infamous computer in Silicon Valley, California.

Although our children who are adopted do not share our physical characteristics, they do display familial traits. Dinora is an awesome artist, taking after Hubby. She has a good eye and a steady hand for drawing. Unfortunately, she did not assimilate into my thrifty ways, instead preferring the finer things in life, like driving a Cadillac. Steven has grown into a caring adult, one who looks out for those with disabilities. He is quick to hold the door for others and help the elderly carry packages. If he sees a person who is deaf, he will go out of his way to smile and say hello in simple American Sign Language. Angel has also inherited my love for others and regularly helps his biological brother out by babysitting his nieces after school. Family, be it adoptive or biological, is of great importance to Angel. Our youngest child, Marie, is called the “Baby Whisperer”. At any family function, she can be seen holding the newest fussy infant niece or nephew and rocking him or her into euphoria with the techniques she saw me use as a foster mom for infants affected by HIV and drug addiction.

There are all types of families other than traditional ones, such as those with two dads or two moms, or a single mom and kids, or grandparents raising their grandchildren. Families are bonded by love.

My son, Steven, recently sent me an inspirational text message, “I can’t thank you and dad enough. You took a chance on a sick infant with all kinds of problems and never looked back. You guys were truly sent by God to help the world be a better place, you made mine better by giving me a home. I love you both so much for loving me as equally as your own” to which I responded, “We DID look back several times…ha! ha! But never forget that you ARE our own.” Enough said.