Last Week

Last week was heartbreaking. Last week had us crying for people we’ve never met, people whose lives we mourned and whose families we grieved alongside. Last week had us lamenting brokenness and destruction at a personal and systematic level. Last week had us feeling overwhelmed, helpless, and scared.

I have three young children. What do I say to them about what is happening in our world? What do I say to them about racism, violence, and hate?

What do I say back to the world, when these are things I see and hear?

Last week I wanted words and I wanted action. I wanted to know what to say. I wanted to know what to do. I still want to know what to say and what to do. And I am writing today with a tenderness and timidity that I don't usually write with, at least not when I intend to share what I write. Unfortunately, I still don’t have words and I still don’t have an action plan.

But I think so often fear of saying the wrong thing holds us back from saying anything at all. And I don’t want to be silent in the face of so much despair and fear and anger. So, maybe tenderness and timidity are the perfect space to sit in when speaking of such things.

On Thursday night, I laid in bed and cried for what I was seeing and hearing in the news. On Friday morning I learned about the Dallas shootings. I went for a run and my heart felt so heavy. I felt so helpless. I wanted to do something big, to make a statement. I wanted to stand with protesters, to speak against racism and violence and aggression. The pain and the fear is so big, I felt like I needed to do something big in response.

I ran and I prayed, my prayers mostly questions fired up at the sky. And then I stopped. Because so much of what I wanted to do was to speak and act, and it hit me that first there needs to be space for listening. In my prayers and in social justice. Internally and in the world.

I still don’t know what to do and what to say. But here is the direction that I am trying to move toward.

First, I want to listen. I want to listen with open ears and an open heart. I want to hear the stories of those that are hurting. I want to listen, not to argue or get defensive. I want to listen to understand. I don’t want to minimize or dismiss the experience or pain of anyone else. I just want to listen.

I want to look for ways to take action in significant and meaningful ways. The truth is, I live a small life. Most likely, most of my action will be in the theater that is my home and my family and my community. Most likely it will be teaching my children as much as I can about loving others well. Teaching them about the history of racism in our country and the ways racism continues today. Teaching them that no matter how hard things are, we use words and not weapons, we solve problems by talking and not by violence. And believing that this small work has infinite meaning and significance.

Much of my work needs to be in my own heart. I want to stop and examine who I am and what role I play in these big, social issues. How can I be a peaceful presence in a world that feels like it is spinning out of control? How can I be a force for gentleness, generosity of spirit, kindness, and goodness? What practices and disciplines do I need to dig into in order to grow? Instead of just pointing at how messed up other people and situations are, I want to see the parts of me that are messed up. And I want to work on it.

These are a lot of words, a lot of vague ideas. For me, they took shape this weekend as I worshiped with my community. As I talked and read with my husband. As I worked to learn more about what I can do to educate myself and my family about racism. As I said over and over again “use your words, not your body,” to my toddler as she snatched toys from her siblings. And even in the slow, reflective rhythms of chopping vegetables and pushing a stroller through our neighborhood. They are small, unseen movements. But I am clinging to the hope that thousands of us are doing this work in our homes, and that the small movements will make a big difference.

There are no easy answers here. But nonetheless, there are answers we need to relentlessly pursue. These small movements aren't the whole picture of what needs to happen, but they are a start. In my home, in my community, and most of all, in my own hearlaut and mind.

#laurenshaw #relationships #racism #socialjustice #counseling