This has been an emotionally charged week. I’m not alone in being hit hard by the hateful murders of nine people in Mother Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church on the evening of June 17th.
As I began to dive into the writing of Hybrid, I realized much of my reaction is rooted in the love my parents have always extended to people both inside and outside their cultures.
The night after the shootings, a prayer vigil was held from 9 to midnight, at Shorter Community AME church in Denver. When I told my 84-year old mother she asked me what time she needed to be ready so we could go together.
As we sat in the sanctuary, surrounded by more than a thousand people of all walks of life and all faith traditions, my mother and I sang and listened and prayed and held hands, receiving and extending mercy and strength from everyone around us.
Walking out silently arm in arm I felt more deeply connected to my mother than I have in years. We wondered if my father was showering his blessing on us all that night.
The collision of my parents cultures certainly shaped who I am and this week I felt what I sometimes forget has been there all the time, a love for people and a cry for justice.
My Hybrid journey week 3.