Lessons from my East African Sister

I found this draft that I had started in April 2018 on my blog. I don't know why I never posted it--probably just got interrupted by the daily busyness and never got back to it. This was written when we shared our home with a family of 7 for 11 months...

I don't know what it's like to be black

I called a friend to ask for prayer and catch up. When I asked her "how are you?" Her answer came slowly and cautiously, "It's been rough the past few weeks." 

Pause.

I waited and then urged her to tell me more. Throughout the rest of our call and the rest of the day I realized...

I don’t know what it’s like to be black. I don’t know what it feels like for race, discrimination and biases to be a huge part of my life. I don’t know what it’s like to experience hurtful comments and emotional injuries to my personhood in every aspect of my life—my neighborhood, my church, my job, my school, my ministry, my travel--because of the color of my skin. I don’t know what it is like to navigate this with my black children.

I know there are many injustices, but I don’t know what it feels like, as a black woman, when racial injustice gets lumped together with all the other sins and nothing changes, nothing is dealt with, and it is dismissed.

I don’t know what it feels like to live uncomfortable. To be on edge and afraid to travel--especially at night. I don’t know what it is like to ignore, to look past it, and fix my face when comments are made and looks are given because I am black. I don't know what it's like to tell one of my kids to "fix your face" when someone has just hurt them.

I don’t know what it’s like to be black.

My friend does. She shared these things. This is just one small glimpse into her world. This may not be every black person's story, but it is hers. And I am undone. She is my friend and I had no idea. I'm so sorry for that.

 

I look at the news and I know I cannot change the world and make all of these painful things go away. So I turn to my friend and ask her, how can I love you?

Reach out, check in, be normal, be a friend.

Talk and ask questions.

Be willing to be uncomfortable.

That’s a start.

49 weeks

forgiveness feels like freedom.  a weight lifted.  i have not felt it quite like that until this week.  you see 49 weeks ago i hurt one of my best friends.  i betrayed her with my judgement and accusation.  and what is most painful for me is that i thought i was doing the right thing. 

i need much forgiveness.

49 weeks is a long time when you lose a friend like her.  we have known each other for almost 2 decades.  we have shared dinners, girls weekends, burdens, gifts, prayers, our families.  she was with me the day i found out my second born was a boy.  she was with me as we prayed for the children we did not know yet would become ours. if you browse my family photo albums you will find members of her family in our pictures.

the loss the past 49 weeks has been deep.  many would think, including myself, that there is not much hope for redemption after a hurt like that.  afterall, we were just friends....not family.  we could move on.  we have lots of good friends.  our lives are busy so we could just keep our minds on other people and other things.

but the truth is we can't ignore that loss.  it's too deep.  our relationships intersect. our kids intersect.  and ignoring our pain does not make it go away.  even though we do not share the same dna nor last names, she is family. we love and serve the same God.  we both have been rescued.  we both live in the forgiveness of Jesus. 

and perhaps i needed to understand that truth more.  i sin and ask for forgiveness as if i don't really hurt anybody.  the past 49 weeks i have been well aware of how my sin hurts.  how much i lose.  how much i need a savior.

and today that Savior made a way for us to be restored to one another again. 

sin abounds--i mess up even when i try to do the right thing

but t.h.a.n.k.f.u.l.l.y His grace abounds more.  

forgiveness is freedom