“Make a great day that will end with a smile in your heart.”
Growing up, I always heard my dad speak variations of these words. They’ve always soaked into my head, but now they’re planted forever more than ever. He lived in them. He breathed at them. And in doing so he planted them in me very naturally.
They were more than just encouragement. They were the way they lived, his life, and the way he chose to show up every day. He was naturally positive, uplifted, without exaggeration, the best person I ever knew.
From a very young age, I realized how you show up is a choice. But on top of that, every day was my second chance, both powerful lessons that shaped my resilient nature.
Whether it’s a moment of challenge or joy, I believe that responsibility for your thinking and actions is entirely in your hands. Choose how you respond to the situation, the person, and yourself.
But life doesn’t have to be a series of irreversible moments. Instead, there is a clean slate with every new day. Whether you learn from the past or are trapped by it is a choice. And even when you make a set break or make a mistake, you have the opportunity to reset things differently the next day and approach them – you have to do that. This belief in daily updates is the cornerstone of resilience and gives us hope and motivation to continue moving forward, even if things seem harsh.
My story began years ago in a small town in Ohio, and I received a call that changed the lives of our two families forever.
I am a interracial woman (white and black) who has returned to a white family that has been placed for adoption and who loves me deeply. Thirty-nine years ago it was considered an open interracial adoption. From the moment my new family looked at me, I belonged to them and was so deeply loved. I completed a family of five. She is the only girl, only adopted child, and youngest.
But life doesn’t always turn out as expected.
When I was only eight months old, my adopted mother passed away from liver cancer, and my father raised three young children himself. His deep losses were immeasurable, but he did not let grief define him. Instead, he poured every ounce of love on me and my brother, ensuring he never felt a blank that he could not fulfill. He not only surrounded us in his love, but also made sure we were supported by the love of our community.
All three of us share a different relationship with our dad, but the depth of our bond that he and I shared was immeasurable. He was my rock, my biggest cheerleader, and the person who saw my potential long before I realized it for myself. He taught me resilience in the face of adversity, and instilled belief in myself that carried me through even the most uncertain times. I’m his fault.
As far as I can remember, I identified it as black due to skin tone, but I also knew I was half white. But understanding my identity has always been a challenge. And I think it’s struggle that many interracial adoptions can involve.
Raised mainly in white towns until 5th grade, I was the only person of color in my circle. This made it difficult to understand where it suited me. Realizing that you are in this situation, the complexity of your identity is immeasurable. It is especially important to understand and accept all aspects of who you are. But how do you do that?
I remember seeing Ebony magazines around my house. I flipped it over as a little girl and looked at the photos, and it showed people who looked like me.
I also had a sister for several years through Big Brothers Big Sisters, but there was no moment when I avoided discussing race or adoption stories. My dad was always committed to understanding and supporting me too. He constantly read and educated about raising children of interracial races, even in my adult years.
As a white man, he intended to ensure that I never felt alone in my experiences. It’s really special how he did this as a white person himself. He understood his privilege and my disadvantages, but in my case it was his mission to learn everything he could about raising children of interracial races in a world where children and adults were supposed to be cruel.
He rarely relate to the nuances of my reality (if any), but made it his life’s job to ensure he knew his worth in every way. That’s what made him incredibly special.
When my classmates came home in tears as they wondered, “I acted as a white man, but I was black,” he felt relieved that I didn’t have to conform to who I had to “be that should.”
He was excited when I chose to attend a more culturally diverse high school after remarried my amazing stepmother and moved to a more diverse town. But he stood by my side with unwavering support as my kids struggled to thrust into my hair that wasn’t finished or ignorant remarks from strangers.
By the time I reached adulthood, I was still working on the complexities of my identity. But these words resonated with my heart: “It is not intended for them to understand” and “Sometimes, there is no reason for such people.”
These simple truths have kept me free in a time when I struggle to let go of things that I don’t serve. I didn’t need to explain myself to anyone who didn’t want to listen. I had to be faithful to myself. And even today, I sometimes forget about it, but I always come back to it when those moments happen.
At 38, for the first time I was forced to truly find my way and face it head on. My father passed away suddenly in May 2024.
The sadness was heavy and unpredictable and I found him reaching out to call him. His voice, his lessons, and his enthusiasm for a better, more fulfilling life for his love and enthusiasm, lives on in me now.
One thing my dad and I shared was their love for the little Buddha’s blog. This was the only publication we have consistently read together. Submitting this post on the anniversary of his death seemed appropriate to me after his death. Through our blog, we learned about resilience, finding yourself when you are lost, and facing life challenges with absolute best intentions.
My dad has always been the messenger of these lessons. He would say, “Life is tough, but you don’t have to destroy you.” The challenges we face, and even trauma, are essential to our growth. Trauma does not always have to come from family. It can come from anyone, anyone, after your formative year. But what’s important is how to handle it and overcome it.
Life is unpredictable. It challenges you, stretches you, breaks you when you are least expecting it. But those moments also have the opportunity to start anew by defining love, resilience, and your own path. My dad taught me that. He’ll always say, “Tomorrow is a new day.” And in his absence I choose to live in the words he gave me:
Make it a wonderful day that will end with a smile in your heart.
Because no matter what life throws our path, we have the power to choose how we respond. We have the power to create joy, to lift others, to choose to have the glass half full, and to find meaning even in the most difficult moments.
That’s the legacy he left me. And that’s the lesson I want to share.
About Lauren Gall
Lauren Gall is a co-founder of Vava Virtual Assistants and an Ohio State graduate who studied strategic communication. She currently lives in Atlanta Georgia with Bubba, a 13-year-old highly Loavable chocolate lab. She enjoys being outdoors, riding her bike and is actively beginning to train for her first marathon!
