Wednesday, December 27, 2017

When Mama Bear Sees Red

What do you get when you cross a crowded parking garage, a screaming infant, and cars who won't let the car with said screaming infant out?

A mama bear who sees red. 

Y'all, I have been processing a certain incident that happened last week. I alluded to it on Facebook. I've thought about it in the shower, muttering as I slammed my shampoo bottle on the ground. I've seethed about it as I've creamed eggs and sugar together to make cookies.

I've tried to see it from the perspective of the three women who were in the car. I've failed.

Here's a brief summary of the incident:
Hubby and I (with our four-month-old) attended a basketball game last week. This basketball game was a BIG deal and had tons of attendees, so we had to park in a parking garage on the second level. After the game, of course, said garage was basically at a standstill as people tried to leave.

Our four-month-old was doing okay, but after sitting in the car not moving at all for fifteen minutes, still stuck in our spot, she started SCREAMING. Like, choking on her saliva, sounding like she was going to spit up screaming. Not just crying. I can deal with her crying, people. It was a scream I had never heard before, and it shook me to my core.

I sat there, thinking that SURELY we are going to escape our parking spot and be on our way home. "Should I just get out and stand in front of a car so they have to let us out of our spot?" I asked my husband multiple times. He didn't really reply.  I was unsure of my other options, unsure of how long we were going to be stuck there, unsure of how to handle this situation. Meanwhile, the screaming continues and escalates until I.cannot.take.it.anymore. We have to get this baby home.

So, I get out of my parked car and approach the car that could, if they so desired, let us out in front of them.

In the front passenger seat is a former coworker. In the back is a current coworker. I don't know the driver. The passenger side window is cracked a couple of inches, so I smile: "Hey, I have a screaming infant in my back seat, so I was wondering if there's any chance y'all would let us out in front of you?"

Eye contact with front seat passenger is made. She says not one word and looks back down at her phone. Back seat passenger and driver do not make eye contact with me.

Me: *awkward pause* "Um okay thank you!"

I get back in my car.

And not only do they not let us out...they immediately pull up, making it very clear they're going to ensure we cannot get out. I was LIVID. Not because they wouldn't let us out. But because I felt betrayed. I KNEW these people and thought I had a positive relationship with one of them. I mean, I knew they weren't driving, but to not even be acknowledged? That STUNG, y'all.

But...I'm not here to talk about them. Because I can't control them.

I'm here to talk about me.

I have examined my motivation for asking them--was I trying to take advantage of them? Was I rude?  Was I unreasonable? I didn't think so. Maybe from their perspective I was, though.

I have examined my reaction to them which, admittedly, was NOT a positive one at first.

But perhaps most importantly, I have tried to consider what I would do in a similar situation. Because I can be spiteful. I can hold grudges. I can refuse to do things just to show people they don't have power over me or just to prove that I do what I want. And maybe that's what this car did to us, I don't really know.

What I DO know is that I want to model BETTER for my daughter. I want to go out of my way to be strong but not spiteful. To be kind but not be a doormat. To strike that balance. To teach her that YES, we can be kind to strangers (the Good Samaritan story comes to mind) and also have boundaries.

So Katherine, someday if a desperate first-time mother asks you to stop your car and let her out in front of you because she has a screaming infant in the back seat, I hope you'll let her out. Not because you have to--you don't. It's not the law. But because you WANT to because you are compassionate and loving. And I pray that you learn those traits from me and your dad. I pray we do not fail to model those for you.

In this world of tension and strife and defensiveness, I pray that I can examine my own heart and actions and model for you kindness, goodness, courage, and love. And when I fail, I pray I can apologize and do better next time. 

Mama Bear saw red last week, it's true. But Mama Bear also knows that she is to love her enemies, pray for those who persecute her, and forgive seventy times seven.

She's still working on all of that... :)

Monday, December 11, 2017

The Post I've Been Sitting On For a Year...

Honesty: I am scared to hit "publish" right now.

I have wanted to address this issue for a year.

 But I didn't know if I should. If, as a white woman, my thoughts are even relevant. So, to anyone who's reading this, please hear my heart and know that this is written with the utmost thought, compassion, sympathy, and love. It is written with a burning desire for peace and unity. It is written with confusion about what to do, if anything, and how to help, if I can. It is written knowing that I am painfully ignorant and imperfect. I have so much growth still to do.

I mean, what right do I as a white woman have to be sitting here at my laptop bawling over this issue, one that isn't even "mine" to be upset over? By writing this post, am I "making this about me"? But if I'm not writing about my own personal reaction, am I then trying to write about something I don't understand?

Reading this poem gave me the final push to pen my thoughts and push "publish":

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Socialist.Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

No, I'm not black. But I will speak up. So please hear my heart.

I watched the (sensitive) video of Terrence Crutcher's death. Someone's son. Someone's friend. A music student at a local college. A church goer who sang in the church choir. All I could think was, "My God, that could be one of my students."

When I was watching the video just now, I was thinking of my kids...

The ones who have accidentally called me "Mom."
The one who wants to be a computer programmer and has started teaching himself how to write code.
The one who told me, "When I grow up, I just want to be a better man someday. I want to have a wife and kids, and I just want my kids to be better than I am, because isn't that what every parent would want?" That kid is 16 years old.
The ones who hug their teachers when they see we are having a bad day or who offer to help us carry supplies in from our cars or who help us pack up our classrooms.
The one who told me he'd fight someone for me because another kid disrespected me.
The one who held and bounced my infant daughter at a basketball game.


...the list goes on. The majority of my students are people of color. Well over half. We have had some honest conversations about their truths and their experiences--the way society views them, the way they view the police, and so much more.

So, society sees a black man. The media writes the story of a man who "was no angel" or who "was not compliant" as if those two things are death sentences. They're not.


And damn it, watching videos of black men being shot dead by police makes me terrified for my students, and then it makes me feel pathetic for feeling scared, because I can't imagine how they must feel. How their parents must feel. While I can understand on a cognitive level, I can NEVER truly understand. I know that.


I do want to express a few thoughts that some people think are contradictory:

1) I am befuddled at the people who argue that "failure to comply" with a police officer's commands justifies killing them. I'm sorry, what?
2) I am confused by people who equate every single police shooting of every black man. They are not all the same. Oversimplification of  a complex issue is dangerous. The details of each case are different.
3) I am dismayed by people who judge all police based on the ones who are racist or use excessive force. Police officers do so much good. Many of them do protect and serve. I am so thankful for them. I respect them, and I know they are valuable members of our community.
4) I am confused as to why we as a society are creating false dichotomies- I can only be "pro-black lives matter" or "pro-blue lives matter" but not both. That's very untrue, but I guess humans are more comfortable with simple categories instead of wrestling with complex, nuanced, layered issues.

So, I could blog about any of those points. But today, I want to focus on point number one: people who don't seem bothered by these deaths because they're too busy justifying them.

It disgusts, angers, outrages me when people, especially my fellow believers in Jesus, respond to the loss of life with excuses, justifications, and lack of empathy. "Oh, well he had a rap sheet." "Oh, well he didn't comply with officer's orders."

OK. Those things should still NOT be a death sentence. Where is your compassion? Your sympathy? Oh you who are so "pro-life"- are you only pro-unborn life? Because that is sure how it seems sometimes, to be quite frank with you. And that is completely inconsistent with the Jesus we Christians claim to worship and follow.

The taking of a life should never be done lightly. Ever. Life is sacred. We are made in God's image, each one of us, and the utter lack of sympathy is disturbing.

I could ramble forever.
I want to be an ally. A safe person. I don't know what to do or how to help. I don't even know if this post is "allowed" or "politically correct" in today's culture. But it's my raw, honest heart, and it's a part of my journey, and so I'm sharing it in faith that it will speak to someone, somewhere.


Jesus,
I am imperfect, but I long to be like You. Give me Your heart for people. Let me always see them through Your eyes.