“Ms. Samantha, I don’t know what I did last Friday. Last Friday feels like two years ago. I don’t even remember what happened yesterday.” The words spoken by a mother in our community speak our reality these days. The last weeks are a blur. A blur filled with mourning, terror, lament, crying out to the Lord, and clinging to Him. Many days I kept my Bible open all day, everyday to consume Scripture for sustenance. Paul and I cried together, prayed together, reached out to our church family and community in desperation. All of us mourned and prayed as a family so deeply hurting. We did not watch from afar, or hear about things on the news, we were in the middle of it. Two blocks from our home rioting took place. We heard the police sirens and the helicopters swarming above. We saw the people running by with arms full of merchandise. I’m not going to lie, we were scared. It’s not everyday you see streets blocked off and cops in riot gear in front of your grocery store! Locked in our homes in fear. Watching as generations of pain poured out. We also watched as the enemy attempted to mute the cries, hijack protests, and cause hatred to spill.
But God.
As we sat in a cluster on our back porch with grief filled eyes, a group of us discussed the events we were seeing around us and one by one began to recognize and confront each of our own privileges. We not only confronted but lamented. Which sparked an even greater quest for more understanding, to relearn the history that many of us were never taught, events that were blatantly ignored, hidden or quickly glossed over. Events such as the Chicago Race Riots of 1919, the riots after MLK Jr's assassination, and the bombing of Black Wall Street. As we listened to each other's stories we saw a ray of hope, a weight begin to lift. During those very hours churches from all over the city came together to pray. Thousands cried to the Lord. He heard the cries, He always hears the cries. We as a city were able to witness peace begin to flood our streets. People coming together. People listening, finally listening! We stepped out of our homes and were met with a very different world that the media had been showing us. Hate wasn’t spilling over our community, no, compassion, love, and unity were shining! We walked around the neighborhood and were stopped constantly by individuals bursting with joy at the sight of my dear friend’s pregnant belly, shouting, “God bless your baby! He’s going to be beautiful!” Older men and women stopped her, sharing words of encouragement, advice, and even protection over the baby in her womb.
My sweet friend Katie reached out to me this week and asked what she could do, her mind already spinning with ideas. In exhaustion and pain over what I had been seeing, I didn’t even know, much less want to ask for help to anyone outside of those who were in the middle of it. I couldn’t have one more conversation with one more person seeking for understanding but still not grasping.
“Let’s resist the temptation to fear and praise the Lord!” Her words convicted me. I was living in fear. Fear of my attempts being misunderstood, fear of what hurtful words people would say, fear of yet another conversation filled with daggers. Fear, fear, fear. So I let go. I stepped back and allowed people in. I had my guard up so high in pain and was met with an outpouring of love.
Led by the efforts of Katie and her sister in law Joy, a group of people I don't even know donated tons of supplies. As I sit and write this, my home is filled with cleaning supplies, groceries, and laundry detergent. I watched as the guys on my block came running to help carry loads to my house. I watched as excitement filled the faces of my church family who have been crying out for a way to help our community. I watched a mother come out of her home for the first time in a long time and saw her face light up at the large pregnant belly of my dear friend and begin to pour out advice on mothering to this brand new mom. I saw God at work.
We are so thankful to each and every one of you who donated and would be happy to receive more donations, more presence, more prayer, and more support. Thank you for giving us an opportunity to be able to bless our community, but the work is not done! It is only just beginning! The things that I learned during this time I never want to forget. We CANNOT just move on and call this a success. We must take the lessons we learned during this time and change how we do everything. Lauren and I visited one of our dearest families after the riots in our area had finished. We swept away the broken glass, and there in the midst of garbage surrounding us, streets still blocked off with police, we began to teach the kids the words, “He’s got the whole world in His hands.” We painted the words out across the sidewalk in chalk and began talking to the children. “Hey do you know why that police car is blocking the street? Did you know there was a time that we were not allowed to sit together?” Lauren began. This will not be another event swept under the rug, hidden in shame, we will speak of it to our families, our friends, our children. We are committed to learning, to listening, to teaching, to conversing, to being corrected, and speaking up when what is being said is wrong.
In the days since the donations have arrived we have hit the ground running. We have been delivering the supplies to families we have had relationships with for years but we aren’t stopping there. With each box we have delivered we have stayed. We have sat on porches, colored with chalk, talked to grandmas, mamas, uncles, dads, anyone who has been around. We are listening and learning from our beautiful, beautiful community and we invite you to do the same.
