Monday, June 29th, 2015
I’m having a delayed reaction to the Charleston travesty.
You know what I hate? I hate that the shooter was welcomed into the church and participated in prayer with the people he shot.
Do you know what I love? I love that the shooter was welcomed into and participated in prayer with the people he shot.
I am a member of the Portland, Maine A.M.E Green Memorial Zion church.
I was welcomed in without question. I am welcomed in with my faith questions and dilemmas. I am gifted with the joy and love of this intimate mostly Black
church. I am gifted with the unity of spirit in this church that goes oh-so-far beyond our individual differences, with color perhaps the least of the differences.
I know exactly who was killed as I see it through my churches eye. I see who it would have been in my AME church.
And still, my church had its prayer group the following Wednesday.
And still, it chooses to love again and again. And not easily. Not easily.
I have a bi-racial, cross-racial granddaughter. She loves as naturally as she laughs and cries. She is two years old.
I have had my trust broken many times and quite recently.
I’m glad I choose to trust.
Betrayal can cause a tough heart.
Or it causes the heart to expand beyond self-love into a more universal compassion.
My heart is tender this week.
Tender enough to believe will create more love than hate.
Tender enough to honor the Charleston Emmanuel A.M.E. church as it welcomed the stranger.
Tender enough to want to protect the innocent.
Tender enough to weep.