Justice . . .

I am a white female. I am a white female with two white children and a white husband. I will likely never need to worry about my white husband or children dying in a pool of their own blood at the hands of law enforcement.

I am also a white female with a heart for adoption. With this heart for adoption (and Jesus) comes a heart for all human beings, regardless of color, gender, sexual orientation, religion, fill in the blank.

The possibility that my family will one day welcome a non-white child into our lives is likely. Because of this, I must concern myself with the well-being, or not, of all communities; red, yellow, black, white.

In the future if my family opens itself up to a young, non-white boy, we will have to discuss how he should behave during a traffic stop. I will have to teach him that because of the racism of some police officers he must make no sudden movements, that he must be sure his identification and papers are in plain view at all times, and that he dare not ever disagree or argue because he could be seen as uncooperative and therefore dangerous. We will need to have this conversation on a regular basis.

I will have to teach him to discern between good guys and bad guys while they're all wearing the same uniforms. I will have to teach him to trust police, but will know deep down, he can't really trust anyone because how can you know who is trustworthy when everyone looks the same?

I will not have to have these conversations with my white children. 

How am I to make sense of that? How are my kids to make sense of that?

The color of our skin does matter. It matters because generations before us made it matter. It matters because the actions of a few with incredible power continue to make it matter.

I cannot stop crying. I cry for the mothers who have lost their children; for the children who have lost their parents. I cry for the child(ren) who might one day join our family who do not look like me or sound like me; whose skin color stands out and labels them dangerous, while mine labels me safe. I cry because the actions of some create a mass fear of all. I cry because it seems to keep getting worse.

We have come so far and still have so. far. to. go.

When will this madness end? When will we learn that violence does. not. win? When will we seek justice for all? When will we value one another, instead of denying each other the reality of our struggles?

When will we stand for love? Peace? Kindness? Equality?

I have no answers. While I try to look to Him who does, it's hard and I think it might always be hard.