Do Black Lives Matter to Me?

My immediate and gut answer is yes, of course they matter to me! 

But, do they really? 

Is there evidence in my life and actions to back that up? 

Do they matter to YOU? Is there evidence in your life and actions to back that up?

Here is my confession. Here is my invitation.

When the world is on fire from long-buried, boiling over anger, what do we do? That was my immediate response: what can I DO? What can we do? What are we doing?

Uncomfortable with the subject, we get defensive, we get judgey. We post our opinions. We make it political. We make it about THEM and their violence and "shameful" actions and not about us and OURS.

This is a post about embracing our ignorance and hate and the injustice we perpetrate. It is also about GRACE. God, please grant us your abounding, never-ending, hope-filling, amazing grace for our sinful thoughts and our silence and complicity.

Disclaimer: I am sure I will say the wrong thing.  It is a justifiable fear - because I usually do (I come from a long line of footinmouthers) and because I am largely ignorant on the subject of racism. So, I apologize if I offend you. Then again, maybe we all need to be more open to being offended with open ears....But please call me out if I say something out of ignorance or arrogance.

My initial reaction to the murder of George Floyd was anger. As for many, that video was the last straw, coming so soon on the heels of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. And it broke me. Completely. For a week I walked around in a fog, wearing my grief with splashes of anger and sadness, erupting at any moment. I couldn't focus on schoolwork, housework, my kids...pretty much anything else. I wandered around utterly useless with the realization of my ignorance about the state of racism in our country. 

I read articles, blog posts, and bought books. I texted with my best friend, called my sister who is married to a black man, trying to process all the emotion and information. I reached out to a co-worker with whom I have always felt comfortable discussing race. He was gracious. He said, "It's not your fault, Ashley." But I'm not convinced.

I watched movies and documentaries about racism, researched the Black Lives Matter organization. I wrote blog posts in my head about what I wanted the world to know. And rewrote them. And then finally, actually started writing this.

I sat in a parking lot and cried after driving by a beautiful, peaceful protest organized by the children in my town. The CHILDREN, not the town leaders, not our spiritual leaders, but our brilliant teens, who have had enough and are determined to do something.

And I have realized this: I am ignorant, and I am complicit. I am guilty of not caring enough about those different from me to educate myself about their current experience. See, I am educated about slavery and reconstruction, and the Civil Rights era in America (as most of us are). But, I honestly had no idea about the continued and deliberate oppression of people of color in our country.  My white privilege allows me the freedom from that knowledge.

Confession:

I confess to my racism. I am not the antagonistic, attacking, or belittling type of racist, but I am guilty nonetheless. I admit to having prejudicial thoughts and reactions. Driving in Florida through "bad" neighborhoods and locking my car door after seeing a black man nearby? Yes. As an adolescent rejecting a boy of another race/ethnicity because of what my parents might think? Yes. Laughed at or made a racist, stereotypical joke? Yes. 

I am sorry for my conscious and unconscious racism and prejudice. I am repentant for the unconscious ignorance of my youth and the conscious and continued ignorance as an adult.

And I confess to my privilege, which has allowed me to live in ignorance.

MY Privilege Profile:

• Race: Inside and out - I am white. Gleaming bright, southern white from the safe suburbs with nice yards and almost zero black neighbors. 

• Ethnicity: Mostly Italian flavored, because my Mamaw was first-generation and her love was generous and her love language was literally food for the soul, so we simmered in her culture, trying to spice up our American ordinary. On the other side of the family, there is quite a complicated mix of white southern planted with European roots. 

• Socioeconomic Status: Solidly Middle Class (which allowed me to access to an education, to own my own property at 18, to easily finance a car, etc)

• Birthplace & Nationality: Florida, USA (Currently residing in MA, USA)

• Religion: Non-Denominational Christian, founded in the Charismatic variety (for those unfamiliar with this term - the anoint your head with oil, slay you in the spirit, hanky-waving, tongue-speaking kind of Jesus Freaks; similar to Pentecostal)

• Sexuality & Gender Identity: Heterosexual, Cisgender (born female and identify as female)

• Political Affiliation: Registered Independent 

I share that info to show you my privilege and because many of us judge one another on the above criteria. For most of us, our place in those boxes form our identity and thought patterns and decisions, and we rarely listen with ears wide open to those from different boxes.

For some, the categories listed are ALL that is seen or understood about them, regardless of who they really are on the inside. And for many, that first category could equal a death sentence.

I have been given extraordinary privilege. I realize my life has been easier because of the neighborhood where I grew up, the color of my skin, my sexual orientation and even my religion. I have not experienced oppression by another race, the trauma that poverty can inflict, or harassment due to my sexual/gender identity.

And I am guilty. I am guilty for taking it all for granted and not accurately seeing the reality of those who check the "Black" box next to race. 

If you are struggling to understand or sympathize with the chaos and violence filling our screens for the past couple of weeks, please examine your own privilege profile. Picture yourself in the shoes of a black parent who has to educate their son or daughter about interacting with the police. Make sure your hands can be seen at all times. Don't argue. Just do what they say. No matter if you've done anything wrong, comply. Don't ruffle their feathers of superiority. Don't expect justice to be yours my precious child, who is made in the image of God because of the melanin in your skin I passed down to you. 

Now picture your own child under the knee of an officer, begging for you. 

Begging to breathe. For over 8 minutes.

Now multiply that anguish by 400 years. 

When I was younger, I did not understand my own ignorance. I did not understand that saying "I don't see color" or self-righteously, "my children will be colorblind" (yes I actually said that) was just plain ignorant. 

And let me be clear about this: NO WE CANNOT be colorblind. Not only is this an idealistic and dismissive attitude, it is impossible and inadvisable. Because to say I'm colorblind is to say I don't see you as you are. I don't see your pain. I don't acknowledge that you have suffered because of your race. To say I'm colorblind is to say there is no difference in our experience. 

The truth is we all see color (even if  you are technically colorblind, because you are missing those little color rods in your eyeballs). We have been raised in a society that sees color by parents and grandparents who were forced to see color by the very laws of the state and in a country that has for centuries defined people of color as less than human.

Life, Liberty, and Justice for All. Unless your skin is black.

How we see the world, interact and relate with the people of the world, our thoughts, our motivations, our dreams, our anxiety and fears, are all products of either our experiences or our education [I don't strictly refer to institutional education]. You and I have not had the same experience or the same education, and therefore we will not share the same feelings about a moment, an event, an idea, a theology, etc. Right now, as you read this, the influences and memories from throughout your life are carving out how you experience this interaction of ours. My thoughts become words becomes digital text that greets you and your eyes and brain give meaning to the symbols floating on your screen.

You read my profile. Based on your prior knowledge, what kind of person do you think I am? Who do you assume I voted for in the last presidential election? Does my profile of race, ethnicity and socioeconomic status tell you WHO I am? Does the data (even with a bit of my personality thrown in) give you a clear picture of what lights up my soul or breaks my heart? 

I don't think so. I don't think we often ask people, who we see as different, to see the nuanced, colorful picture. We take a quick snapshot. A Polaroid profile. And we quickly discard what isn't familiar and comfortable. 

And if we discard the opportunity to see their essence, their trauma, their talent, and beauty based on that profile, we create the brokenness that exists in our society.

What happened to George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery and countless others before them, breaks my heart. Breaks it wide open and leaves me bleeding tears all over my privilege. What happened to those men is inexcusable, unjustifiable, and...God, I just have no adequate words....

Despite what my profile and my own admission of racist thoughts may imply about me, I hate discrimination and superiority and injustice. I write about these issue in bog posts and support organizations and businesses who work to fight against them. But it isn't enough. I have not done enough. Mostly, I have not educated myself enough.

The point of everything I have said so far is that the evidence points to:

BLACK LIVES DO NOT SEEM TO MATTER TO US. 

Fairness and justice have not been granted to black Americans and white America has looked the other way. We have seen their profile written on their skin and discarded them, locked them up, shot them dead, suffocated the very life and liberty our constitution grants us all.

I confess my complicity and ignorance and denial. And I invite you to a conversation, even if we don't agree. Join me on a journey of becoming educated. Join me on a journey to change "The Way Things Are."

My pastor did a very rare thing today. He postponed the well-prepared, originally planned sermon for today to address how we as a church and individual Christians should respond to the current crises. His advise is that we Listen, Lament, Learn, Live, and Pray, and I believe that's a good path on which to take our first steps. (You can watch his address here ). 

I have stepped onto that path and commit to living it out, which means doing more than just educating myself but also taking steps to change "The Way Things Are." Will you join me?

Black lives do matter to me. For people of color who read this: You matter to me. Your children matter to me. Your feelings and fears and anger and anguish all matter. I see you. I am listening. I am sorry.

With a broken heart and ears wide open,

Ashley

Below are a few resources to help us get started. But beyond what I have stumbled upon and listed here, seek out books, listen to podcasts, read articles and blog posts that will challenge you; hear from people outside of your social circles and political affiliation. 

Books:

• The Book of James - found in the New Testament of your Bible, or any Bible app, easily downloaded to your phone. The words of my favorite book in the Bible often point to how a Christian should respond to others.

• All American Boys by Jason Reynolds - This is a book I am reading for class by an author I have recently fallen in love with because of his letter to young men he wrote on the subject of consent. He is a multi-award-winning author, writing mostly YA books. (I will finish reading All American Boys by Thursday, June 18th, and I would love for you to read it and then process and discuss it with me.)

• Beyond Colorblind is a book that I am planning to read to join a book discussion with others in my church. Again, I would love to discuss and process it with you too.

• The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander - I have not read this one either, but plan to when I have more time for reading books not on my class reading list. I have heard good things about it from friends.

Movies & Videos:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7ihNLEDiuM

Megan Ming Francis Ted Talk on the roots of racial injustice, posted 4 years ago but could have been given yesterday.

"13th" - Documentary on Netflix

Why You Don't HAVE to Go to Church

But. There are 4 reasons why I DO.

I have had this post on my heart for a few weeks now but have been reluctant to actually write it down and share it. I don't want to sound like THAT person. You know, that self-righteous-know-it-all who you just want to punch? I have been that person. Sometimes I look way back in the past to like, yesterday, and want to punch myself.

So let me be completely honest here. Going to church on a regular basis is a renewed practice for me, and I haven't quite gotten it solidly locked into my weekly rhythm again. Since finding a church home about 6 months ago, I haven't made it 4 times in a month yet. Each Saturday night I go to bed with every intention of getting up the next morning and getting ready for church. Such good intentions...

Truth is I am a horrible morning person. It takes a strong reason - like having to go work or get my children to school on time - for me to be persuaded to actually GET OUT OF BED. I need to feel like I HAVE to. I just love my bed way too much; I love being snuggled up under the covers. And that terribly wonderful invention called a smart phone has completely ENABLED me. Really, it is all my Samsung's fault! I can check my email and scroll on FB and check the weather and text and all sorts of interactive things, right from my cozy place, without ever stepping foot on the cold hardwood floor. It's an introvert's dream machine.

I hold my weekends sacred. I consider it a great weekend if my car never leaves the driveway. I have actually avoided signing my children up for activities because they were held on Saturday mornings. I mean, who in their right mind would get up early on a Saturday morning? Not me. Not since my children became potty trained and learned to make their own breakfast. Thank. The. Lord. For. Cereal.

So Sundays. Aren't they just another Saturday? Look around and you'll see that to most of the world they are. Stores and restaurants are open. Even some banks are now open on Sundays. Little teams of footballers and cheerleaders and hockey players have practices on Sunday mornings. Gone are the days when the general population observed the Sabbath. And if Sunday is just a second Saturday, we have the choice to do what we want with it. Why sacrifice sleeping in or shopping or getting a DIY project done just to go to church?

For a long  time, my choice was to stay in bed on Sunday mornings. No one was making me get up. My husband has never really been a church-goer, so he's no help. My children realized, if we don't wake mom, she won't make us DO stuff (like get ready to go to church).

So, despite growing up in great churches and being involved in the Christian community, I stopped getting up on Sundays, when it became an easy choice not to. The church where I was part of the youth group and then got married in and taught and was a cell group leader kind of fell apart. Then we moved to New England, where the type of church that I was accustomed to seemed not to exist. And my long non-church-going gap occurred.

But this is why I finally started going again: I missed it. I really, really missed it. Why?

1. Because I LOVE it.  Praise and Worship. Love.  Sermons. Love.  The smiling, friendly people, who care about one another. Love. Maybe it's because I did grow up from infancy in church, but church feels like home to me. Those pews are comfort.

Maybe it's because I can FEEL God there. Of course, you can feel God elsewhere - at home holding your child, out in splendid nature, spending time in prayer, or any other place where you are spiritually aware. But I tend to get caught up in the every day living - the practical - and am not able to focus in on His presence the way I can in church, where that is my purpose.

Maybe it's because we were actually created to commune with God, and when at church, that's what I am doing. My focus is on Him, and so my soul is at rest. It is not fighting the battle of what should I be doing? Or am I doing the right thing? When I am worshiping in church, I transcend the concrete world and all it's myriad problems and enter into a realm of true peace. It is Sanctuary - a place of refuge from the storm. For that one hour and a half, all is well with my soul. That time of blissful peace is incredibly liberating, and it carries me farther than any other comfort I seek.

2. Because I NEED it. Of course, you can be a good person who doesn't go to church. There are tons of great people who don't. Many followers and believers of Christ don't subscribe to any kind of organized religion. Going to church doesn't automatically make you good or make you a Christian. But I need it. This particular terribly flawed human needs to go to church in order to remain focused. Blame it on my ADD. I need that weekly reminder of all that I have learned about living like Christ in order to continue living like Him.

I have known both selves. The church-goer and the non-church goer. And I like the church-goer better. She is nicer and more loving and more patient and kind. She is far from perfect but feels so much better. During the years that I wasn't attending, I was more selfish, cynical, bitter, unhappy, and less faith-filled. I wasn't able to be the person that I think God wants me to be, and I wasn't focusing on living out His will for my life. Selfish desires and worries and stresses took over, and I forgot to trust in Him. I was lost. And now, I feel found once again. Plus, when I am in church, I am honoring both the first and fourth commandments (Exodus 20: 3-11), which is always a good thing.

3. Because We Belong To Each Other. We were not meant to live out our paths in isolation. As much as it is my natural tendency to draw into myself and shut the world out, I know that I can't give into that selfish temptation. I do not exist for myself. If I did, it would be a terrible waste of a life. Over and over in the scriptures, we encounter the importance of working together: of lifting one another up, helping one another, loving one another. In I Corinthians 12:7, Paul says, "A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other." Not so that we can help ourselves but so we can help each other. Hebrews 10:23-25 says, "Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near."

Some of my best friends and best life experiences came from being involved in a church community. But let me be very clear. In church you will not find sinless people. You will not find perfect people. You will find people who are struggling and who are flawed. They have opinions and symptoms just like the rest of us. And, you will not find a perfect church. Not every church is good. In fact, you won't find God in all of them. Keep looking. Because the church needs us. It needs me. It needs you. It needs you to help in the nursery or to organize a pot-luck dinner. It needs you to teach our children. It needs our tithes and our offerings. Those lights don't illuminate the sanctuary without cost. The bathroom doesn't clean itself. The pastor's car needs gas too.

4. Because I CAN. I have been given that right and freedom by those who suffered for my ability to walk into any church I like and worship the way I please. Because if I do not continue to exercise that right and take advantage of that freedom, it may all be taken away from all of us. Because others cannot. Because a sacrifice was made for me. A sacrifice of blood and life. Because, if for no other reason, He is worth the sacrifice of a few hours of my time per week. So, because I can, I will. I will get out of bed on Sunday mornings. I will volunteer my time to help put on a Harvest Fest. I will use my spiritual gift and encourage other women. I will ramble on and on in a blog post that few will read, to say: I believe in Jesus, and I believe in living according to his teaching, and I believe in going to church. I will give my God, who sacrificed His child for me, a small sacrifice of praise and worship and time.

I don't HAVE to go to church. But I will. Sundays (most of them) you will find me Here. Probably at the 11:00 service. You are so very welcome to join me.

Love,

Ashley







.

In the Middle of one of THOSE days

Ya know those days when you have all these great ideas of the awesome things you will accomplish? You wake up ready to take on the world, to create, to organize, to just DO IT. And then...you get up.

Today started like this: I didn't get a chance to wash my face because the child who is always ready for school 30 min early hadn't finished making her lunch but has a field trip so she can't just buy school lunch. And I look down and she isn't even wearing shoes. So I make a sandwich and she gets her shoes. Then we get in the car, and she remembered to bring the dog but not her book bag, but the door is locked, so I have to turn the car off and get out and get the darn bag and re-lock the door and re-start the car. AND it's only 40 degrees in September but yesterday it was 70!

After dropping the kids safely at school, I tackled all the paperwork received from meet the teacher night and realize the ONE form that needed to be sent in today to meet the deadline is still sitting by the computer.

Then I try to print something from the dinosaur of a computer, but the printer won't work for WHATEVER reason. But I need to print in order to accomplish one of my goals today. Sucked that up and move on to another goal: FIND A JOB. Preferably a teaching job. And I discover a great school in a nearby community is looking for an English teacher. YAY! But then I read that they want someone with their master's degree, and I don't have that, because I decided to get a certificate in interior design instead. Because after teaching for 2 years, while carrying 2 different children, and taking certification classes 8 months pregnant in order to get a PROFESSIONAL teaching license in Florida - we FREAKING moved to Massachusetts. And in MA I taught for a year in HELL with a TEMPORARY license only to be terminated at the end of that year because I didn't get my PRELIMINARY license. And then I did. 3 days later! So, I decided that I was just done with teaching. It was all too hard and complicated, and I had a 2 and 3-year-old and a husband who was working full-time and getting his master's degree, and there was just no more patience for hard and complicated. Interior design was fun and uncomplicated and not at all hard. 

Then, somewhere in the middle of trying to create an interior design business, I realized that I am ready. Ready to do hard and complicated again. Ready to teach, because it is what I feel called to do. BUT after applying to school after school, I realize I need my master's degree in education in order to get another job here and to get my PROFESSIONAL license. And I start reading the hoops I need to jump through in order to make that happen, and I just want to move back to Florida where I had already accomplished that goal. I want to go crawl in bed or go cry to my mommy and daddy! Because even though I am ready and willing to do the hard and complicated job of teaching high school students to read and write and analyze and synthesize, I cannot really afford to go to back to school again BEFORE getting a job!

So, I am in the middle of one of THOSE days. And it feels like nothing I do will work out. But I open my Bible, and I am reminded of this:

"The Lord says, 'I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them. I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.'" - Psalms 91: 14-16

And one more time, I listen to this song by Jenny & Tyler, whose music I am a bit obsessed with these days.

the LORD is my refuge and strength

therefore i will not be afraid

though the mountains give way

and fall into the sea

He will come and rescue me

the LORD comes to me at break of day

He reaches down to guide me in His ways

though the oceans roar

in this dark and stormy sea

He will come and rescue me

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, we cannot be moved

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, i rest secure

be still and know that He is God

He will be exalted over all

come and behold His strength and majesty

yet He will come and rescue me

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, we cannot be moved

halleluYah, He is with me

halleluYah, i rest secure

So, in the middle of this day, I rest secure. He will come and rescue me. After all, it IS Friday.


Shalom,

Ashley

The GOD Part and That MOM

Here it is. Somewhere in the middle of life, I let go of some really BIG, important parts of me. And other moms say, yes! me too: my hair, my wardrobe, my fitness, my sex life. . .Yeah, I hear you! But, I am not talking about the ME parts of me. I'm talking about the GOD part of me. Not that I turned my back on being a Christian or stopped believing in Him or started stealing and murdering, but I was breaking one of the 10 Commandments. Repeatedly.

"Remember to observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. You have six days each week for your ordinary work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath day of rest dedicated to the Lord your God. . ." - Exodus 20:8-10

Boom. My. Big. Christian. Fail.

Gone were the days when I trusted in God, spent time with God, went to church to worship Him, or spent time in the company of other Christians. I gave excuses to myself like there are just no good churches where I live. I am too busy - I work and have two little kids! Truth? They were really lame excuses. The truth was that I was being lazy and very selfish. And, for the last 2 years, I haven't had a job. And my kids aren't little anymore. And if I would have searched harder, I would have found a good church where I live. Because I did. Two Sundays ago. I found a church that is really "me." Truth is that I have ROBBED my children of great experiences and knowledge and friends. I have robbed them of time with God. That is a devastating realization.

As a child, I spent every Sunday morning and many Sunday evenings in church.  I learned all the books of the Bible and all the important stories of Job and Moses and Daniel and Jesus. I went to Sunday School and VBS and youth group and grew up to be a Sunday School teacher and Life Group Leader. My parents did it right: they gave me a deep, strong foundation of faith. They showed me sacrifice and generosity and hospitality through their own involvement in church. And I have failed to do that for my kids. How sad!

Recently, I found myself stuck in the middle muck of life, feeling DESPERATE, alone, and sad. I had no idea what to do with myself.  I am 36, my two children are both school-aged. I have a BA in literature, 3 years of high school teaching experience, many years of administrative office experience, and have started an interior design business....which has proven so far to be a non-profit business. But we need a profit. We really, REALLY need some profit. And, after searching for months, I haven't been able to find a job that fit our family or our financial needs. So, there I was at home, alone for hours a day, searching for a job, and not getting any responses. Feeling like a FAILURE.

Then, I got a phone call from my MOM. The one who drug me to church every Sunday. And didn't let me watch Bewitched or let me listen to "secular" music. The one who drives me crazy with her Facebook posts because she clogs up my news feed with shared links about anything Christian or right-winged but uses auto-correct and doesn't proof-read her posts, and often sounds like a drunk republican Jesus-freak. That MOM, who is still very involved in her church and keeps so busy that calling me is actually kind of a rare event. So, that MOM called and listened to me blubber, and then she offered to pray with me, which I still, for some reason, find really awkward. But I agreed. And she prayed for me. And the next Sunday, I got up and went to church for the first time in a looooooooooooong time. And for the first time in a long time I felt better. I felt HOPEFUL.

Ever since, I have been setting aside time everyday for the GOD part of me. To get started, I picked up a devotional that MOM gave me, turned to the correct day, and read the related scripture verses. And kept reading. And the more I read, the more I realize how much I have missed the GOD part of me. The more I read, I realize that what happened to me, somewhere in the middle of life, was that I stopped trusting in God. And without that trust, I was lost.

Here's the thing. In the last 2 weeks, nothing about my circumstance has changed. We didn't win the lottery. I still have no paying clients, and I don't have a job, despite many applications. But I have FAITH and HOPE, and I am trying to BE and SHOW LOVE to my children and to anyone else I have contact with. And sometimes I fail, but that's OK because I am trusting God to show me the way. Right now I am just enjoying the time I have for the GOD part of me. And in a couple of weeks, I get to go see THAT MOM.

God Bless,

The One in the Middle