Amy Wilson Carmichael

I Am More

I Am More

One day I specifically remember going home in the third grade, and feeling defeated and crying my eyes out to my mom about how I didn't want to be the dark-skinned girl anymore. I was so lost in my pain and I wondered why God created me to look distinctively different from all of my other classmates. I longed at the time to trade places with my mom, who is lighter and fair-skinned with a softer hair texture. I voiced my frustrations and wishes to my mom as she held me and wiped the flood of tears that were gushing from my eyes. My mom, a Sunday school teacher and English teacher at the time, immediately sat me up and refused to let me think lowly about myself because I didn’t fit in. Instead, she told me a story that shifted and impacted my outlook on life from then on.