Last week at swimming lessons, I asked the white mother of the cutest little bi-racial girl, "Have you ever done A.'s hair?" She responded with, "I have no idea what to do with it." So we made plans.
Yesterday, we sat in the locker room at the Y with a jar of coconut oil and a comb and worked on A.'s hair. I was fortunate when Micah was younger to have black friends and neighbors give me pointers and tips. M. had no one until I spoke up. The difference in her hair was instantaneous. And I was blessed to be a blessing . . .
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