I wasn't raised to see differences in people. My parents taught us to be kind to all--no matter what they looked like or believed. But not everyone in south Florida taught their children the same way.
I distinctly remember asking my Mom if I could bring her home with me one day after school. And while I don't remember the specific conversation that took place, I know the answer was "no". But there seemed to be no reason for the "no." I know I begged. I know I cried. I was heartbroken!
It wasn't until years later that Mom explained to me that it wasn't that she didn't want my friend to come over. But it was a time in the south when we were forced to "worry about what the neighbors would think." It wasn't because Mom didn't want to have Yvonne come visit and wouldn't have been hospitable as I traipsed another friend through our home. No. It was because she was worried about her safety and ours. And maybe it wasn't even safety. Maybe it was simply the chance that our family might have been outcast by a few bigots in the town where we lived.
Many years after that, as a fairly new mother with two babies to care for and not far from the town where I grew up...I experienced more of the potential for "shunning" by one group for your beliefs/values. DH was a young pastor in our first full time church appointment. It was in the country in 1990---almost 20 years after my first brush with racism. Things had changed in our world. People were far more tolerant. Or so I thought.
We hadn't been at the church for more than 6 weeks when a couple of DH's friends from a neighboring city came to hear him preach. It was a nice gesture. Except they didn't "look" like the country folks we were serving. No. They were considered a multi-racial couple. Neither DH nor I thought anything of it. We were happy to have them make the trip to come hear him. It was, after all, a trek to get out there for them.
Later that Sunday evening, there was a meeting at the church. It was right next door to our parsonage and it lasted late into the evening. I remember thinking DH should have been home HOURS prior to when he finally walked through the door and announced, "the honeymoon is over." You see, there were people in that congregation who believed that DH should have shut the door and not allowed "those people" through the door on that Sunday. They absolutely had no tolerance for "people of color" and especially for "mixed marriages". They wanted him to see things their way. He would not.
I learned then that this sort of hate still exists and it broke my heart. For months we endured hate-filled actions and conversations from people in that church as my DH and I stood our ground that God loves us ALL regardless of skin color! It absolutely is one of the events in our lives that broke my heart the most, but also made me a proud wife as I watched and listened as my husband stood his ground calmly and politely through it all. Finally, six months later we were able to go to a new church since there wasn't the possibility for healing in the other one. It was a true relief when there were people of all skin colors and socio-economic status in our new church!
These are two memories on my mind today as I watch the headlines. We are in a time where there is a "Black Lives Matter" movement. And I agree. They do. Last night, though, someone decided to retaliate against police officers to show their anger and frustration and now five police officers have died. The truth is, they matter too! And this is only weeks after 49 people were gunned down in an Orlando nightclub because of their sexual preference.
It's time to stop the violence. It helps nothing and no one. My Facebook post today sums up my own belief that was set in me from a very young age by my family who believed it:
"All lives matter. Period. It's time for kindness and LOTS of it!"
