Remember back in March when quarantine in the states first started? We were suddenly aware of what the world had been fighting in the months prior to our experience.
There was fear. There was uncertainty. And an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.
Helplessness in particular is a sentiment I can’t seem to shake these days. And in the weeks after May 25th, I’ve felt even more helpless and at times, hopeless.
But as I mentioned in the last post, I’ve come to terms with my role in this fight for justice and unity. It is sewn by repentance, rooted in humility, and grown in hope.
And my fight starts at home.
It starts in my sphere of influence.
It starts with my kids and the way I talk with them. It starts with my family, and having the courage to speak up. It starts with showing kindness to our neighbors, the black, white, and brown service workers who come to our doorstep each day, law enforcement officers with whom we interact, and our friends who are bearing the weight of this conflict more closely than I.
Reform will come through learning, listening, and reconciling with our history, but if it doesn’t transfer to our parenting we haven’t changed the world at all.
My heart and my attitude will seep into my kids and thus, the men and women they grow up to be. God forbid it be a heart seeded in hate and an attitude of privilege.
As mamas, dadas, grands, and caretakers, our job cannot be overlooked.
We are agents of change sewing seeds of love in our sons and daughters. We are parents of hope raising the next generation of truth seekers, justice fighters, and servant leaders.
We are empowered to change the world through our parenting.
A few weeks ago we bought “God Made Me and You” by Shai Linne as a resource for talking to our kids about diversity, but it was me who learned as I read.
While Amos & Gal (2 1/2) were enraptured with the bus on the cover (I shouldn't be surprised) I held back tears hearing the big, gospel picture told on the pages. As obvious as it seems, racism as sin, that which infects humanity and separates us from a holy God, isn't usually where the focus of the racism conversation is. And told in that setting, my helplessness found its root, it found its enemy.
I thought I had grieved racism, and the effects of hate on our brothers and sisters, but apparently, I hadn't.
I cried over the realization that had this movement not taken place the past month, I never would have intentionally sought after books like these for our kids' library. Not only were they not on my radar, they weren’t even a priority.
But reading this book to my kids, seeing them notice the tears wetting my cheeks, humbled and facing my privilege in something as simple as childrens lit, I repented.
Also. Can't recommend this children's book enough. The author even has actionable items for adults listed in the back. Grab a copy or check out this article of his. And join me in repentance and leading our kids to be people of humility and hope.
Instagram accounts we’ve followed since our decision to seek out diversity. And remember. It’s okay to be pushed, it’s okay to feel uncomfortable. Just don’t forget to think critically (and biblically) or call out pride when it rises.
@theconsciouskid
@thepolishedplayhouse
@booksfordiversity
@themompsychologist
@montessorimadre