As events have unfolded this week following the death of George Floyd at the hands of police officers, many of my waking hours have swirled around this horrific event. I had heard people describe what happened, but I hadn’t yet brought myself to watch the video footage until this afternoon.
Before I watched the video, I had a picture in my mind of how I thought it happened, I rehearsed scenario after scenario of what I could have done had I been there. Would I have had the courage to carry out any of those ideas? Of course, in the moment, I might not have thought quickly enough. As it turns out, the scenario in my mind was very different than reality. None of my thoughts would have worked anyway. But the scene weighs heavily on my mind and heart.
On my way home from work today, I drove by the courthouse. I wanted to see if any of the students from my school were there. I wanted to reach out to them if they were. After parking in the library parking lot, I walked to the court house. There was a small group of peaceful protesters carrying signs that said “Black Lives Matter” and “I Can’t Breathe”.
I didn’t recognize anyone. I did, however, speak to a mother who was there with her 1-year-old son. I stood beside her for awhile, then introduced myself and asked her name. “I’m glad to meet you,” I said, “I am just so very sorry it is in this circumstance.” The mother looked at me sadly. We stood together awhile longer before I left. It was a brief encounter, but a powerful one.
I looked at her little boy with his dark skin, curly black hair, and bright smile. That little one had no comprehension of what had happened and what the protests were all about. His mother did, though. What must have been going through her mind?
For that matter, what must be going through the minds of countless other minority mothers across our nation in light of this horrific event and far too many others that have unjustly stolen the lives of their sons and daughters? What of their fathers, their brothers and sisters, their grandparents, their wives and children? The question is so big and so painful. It is hard to wrap my mind around the enormity of the grief, frustration and anger these families must be feeling.
So I come back to the face of that one black mother with her small bright-eyed baby boy. Is she wondering if she will see him grow up? Will he live to graduate from high school? Will she see him one day marry the love of his life and become a father himself? Or will his life be cut cruelly short? Right now, in this night, in the wake of what has just happened, I am certain that dark possibilities must weigh heavily on her mind and heart.
We must seek real and lasting solutions. Yes, we must, as George Floyd’s brother urged, educate ourselves and vote for change. All of us, whether white, black, Asian, Hispanic, or any other minority group can and must do this.
But right now, in this moment, each of us can reach out to people who are hurting. Reach out with kindness and caring. Let them know that they are not forgotten, that their lives do matter. Their lives matter to God...and to us.
We can show them through our love and caring that there is hope. In the midst of the weight of this injustice, hope can give them room to breathe.
You shall love your neighbor as yourself. Mark 12:31
