i bleed red too.

Autumn. It’s my personal favorite, actually. There’s something about seeing my breath in the air, being buttoned up, and clenching a warm mug of spice tea in my hands that makes it special. And then there are the pies (apple and pumpkin to be precise), the wafting aroma of snickerdoodles and baked goodness; hot chocolate and warm bread. Running is so much nicer in 50-degree weather, and the time spent with friends and family is more likely to be accompanied by a cheerful fire.

But the best part of autumn are the colors.

A friend once remarked to me, “Why do you like autumn so much? Everything is dying!!!” While that is true, that death is only temporary for our deciduous friends here in the Northeast. Or Southeast. Whatever you consider Delaware to be. Despite the short absence from their boughs, these leaves are spectacular. What an awesome display of color! (I am particularly fond of the red ones.) While my eyes soaked in the tangerines, vermilions, sun-yellows and faded greens of autumn on the way home from church, I began to think.

People are like autumn leaves. All of us: different colors, different roots; dying and living at the same time. If you haven’t been keeping up with the news or if you didn’t pay attention to that kid in your class who’s always on top of the latest University gossip, there’s been a lot of hoo-ha about ResLife and the diversity programs here at UD. It’s funny how life occurrences coincide from time to time–our entire InterVarsity Christian Fellowship just listened to a speaker talk to us about racism and how we all need to give grace–”gracism,” if you will, in order for a loving community to be built. Racism, grace, community, and love, I thought to myself. I’m uncomfortable already.

My good friend and fellow InterVarsity leader was the designated driver for church this morning. I turned to her and said, “I’ve been struggling with loneliness lately… it’s been so hard for me to identify with people in our fellowship. I’m realizing more and more now that I am the minority, that I am different, and when I’m aware of this, I can’t connect.”
She looked at me and asked, “is it because you are Asian that you’re feeling this way, or is the devil trying to tell you that you can’t connect and identify with your peers?”
After a brief silence I replied, “no… being Asian doesn’t justify my feelings of loneliness… I guess it’s just hard for me to feel like I belong.” In my mind, I thought why did I even bring this up? What do YOU know about being the odd one out? You’re not a minority! (note: here, this is Grace being racist.)
With a sigh, I elaborated. “For example… I hear about people getting together for a party-slash-get-together and I didn’t get the memo. I would love to go. I wonder sometimes, is it because I’m Asian and different that they didn’t ask me to come? Or, we’re hanging out, and everyone except for me starts laughing about something that’s awfully hilarious. And I wonder again, is it just a cultural thing? And then if it’s not because I’m Asian, then it’s because I’m too serious, or too deep-thinking, too introverted or just too different–I just feel like I don’t belong here, like there’s some exclusion principle in our own fellowship that I don’t understand! All I want is to know that it’s possible for someone out there to love me just the way I am!” I stopped suddenly. There were tears falling from my friend’s eyes.

And then, as if an invisible hand had slapped me in the face, I realized that what started out as a conversation about being unable to identify with others had undeniably turned into a conversation in which both of us could identify with one another.

“Grace, you are speaking thoughts that I’ve had for years and years,” she said to me. “I’ve gone so long being comfortable hiding behind the labels that everyone associates me with; I’m so scared of life after college because I seriously doubt if there are people in the fellowship who know the real me. I want to know too that it’s possible for someone out there to love me the way I am.”

My friend and I sat side by side in her car. Her light skin a seat over from my tan skin. Her last name so many more syllables than my last name. (Well, given that my last name is only one syllable…) We are different in so many ways–yet we have much in common. Though the leaves on one tree may differ in shape and size and most notably, color, they essentially have the same needs: light, water, nutrients. Who would have thought that humans were not so different?

If nothing else, every human being can find common ground in identifying with our need and desire to be loved. Factors like our personality, our life experiences, our values; our appearance, the labels we’re given, our race and culture; our IDENTITY–these only layer our most fundamental need of love. It is our fear of being alone, our doubts of whether or not we will be loved, and our hurts that prove that our desires are made of the same stuff. Jesus bled one color when He died on the cross so that we may have that kind of love from a God whose love will never run dry. It is because of this sacrifice that you and I bleed red too.

If we (InterVarsity and the rest of the world) are going to address color, we can’t begin by starting with our differences in color. We need to begin by identifying common ground in our shared needs as humans. We all need what we don’t deserve, and that’s what makes it a gift of grace when we love one another with the kind of love that Jesus had for us when He bled over our hurts. You and I… we’re much more alike than we think.

So that’s another reason why I love autumn so much. That, and the fact that the water is done boiling… finally, a cup of tea and a lovely weekend at its close. Goodnight.