I’m as much racist as I am fat…and you can use my ribcage as a washboard and could douse me with a firehose and I’d still weigh a buck ten, soaking wet. 

To say, “I don’t see color,” is to say that I don’t see a colored person. 

I don’t see them as an individual…as uniquely different…as someone who has been “fearfully and wonderfully made” in the image of God. 

Yes, I don’t see them at all.

When I was nine-years-old, my family moved to a town of roughly 4,500 people. The population being 100% white…until a few years later when a black family moved in, about four blocks down the street from us.

And I can still remember the gasps and hushed murmurs coming from the townsfolk.

I was curious about this new family and didn’t quite understand what the big deal was. I offered a friendly wave and smile when I’d walk by their house and notice them out in their front yard. The dad would be mowing his yard - just like my dad did.

And apparently a black man’s grass will grow just as fast as a white man’s… 

As a young girl, I had zero-to-no-exposure of people of a different race and/or color. Until the year 1996 when I went on a mission’s trip to the country of Ukraine. My big, brown eyes were opened wide when I realized that my small town of Jefferson, Iowa wasn’t the only town in the world. There were different foods, languages, cultures, and yes…even colors of skin!

In 1999, I moved to Italy. Italians love pizza and soccer and their coconut “gelato.”

In 2001, I moved to Switzerland where many spoke a minimum of not one language…but five, and seemingly ate a croissant called “Gipfeli” every, single day. 

In 2003, I moved to Brazil where I fell in love with the Brazilian culture, customs, and yes, cooking. Most definitely the cooking! Especially their “Estroganofe de Carne” and “Brigadeiro.” 

In 2005, (living back in Iowa again) I became best friends with a black girl…truly my girl.

This friend went by “Mooch” and I spent a lot of time with her…like a lot. We’d watch Beauty Shop with Queen Latifah and she introduced me to Maya Angelou and I asked her to stand up in my wedding. 

I loved her, and the color of her skin had nothing to do with it. (And if you didn’t know it, I wished I was black. My husband, however, lovingly assures me that I’m as white as they possibly come.)

I distinctly remember going to Mooch’s cousin’s house one day “on the other side of the tracks” and was very soon the minority. And throughout my travels, I’ve been the only American on the bus and the only white girl in the room. 

Did that make me feel uncomfortable? Absolutely! 

Was it worth it? 100%

You see, when you are exposed to different colors, cultures, and customs other than your own…your “world view” takes on a much broader scope. 

People hustle. And not just to afford their second mortgage or their timeshare in Punta Cana…but to buy bread from Market and perhaps meat once a week.

The common things that are our necessities are other people’s luxuries. 

That $20 bill that we may have tucked away in our car (for the rare occasion of running out of gas on the way home) would put food on a family’s table for a week! 

Spoiled American brats…that is what we are.

And so, when I watched the video of one life being heinously taken this week…not in a Hollywood-directed movie…not 57-years ago when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was giving his famous “I Have a Dream” speech…but in a city 338 miles away from me - on Monday, March 25, 2020 - I nearly vomited. 

I was unprepared for the feelings that welled up inside…

And just like not every Italian likes their gelato and not every Swiss will eat a croissant…it would be incredibly ignorant and grossly stereotypical to say that cops are crooked and black men scary.

But what happened on Monday has many looking inside their own selves… Do I have Racism in my heart? Do I see in color - or just in black and white? Would I act any different if the one pinned to the ground had the same skin color as my own?

I am fortunate to now be living in a larger city (compared to my hometown) - with more diverse people groups. And being the wife of the Lead Pastor of a large church, we are in the People Business. 

One of the Vision Statements we have in our church is, “Everyone is welcome.” It doesn’t matter if you are young, old, rich, poor, black, blue, or purple…you are welcome! And from my years of ministry experience, I’ve learned a few things… 

The last time I checked, a beating heart equates to life. And a life will have a name and share a story. And if you listen closely enough, you’ll hear hopes and dreams, and fears and flaws and failures.

Yes, it all boils down to “people are people” - no matter where you go. And we all desire love and peace and this idea of “a better tomorrow.”

Yet racial tension is nothing new. It dates all the way back - even before Christ walked the earth and sat down at a certain well. Tired and thirsty from His journey, He asked the woman that had come midday to draw water, to give Him a drink as well. It turned into a documented conversation that has people still talking - generations later. 

Jesus revealed Himself to that woman that day - a woman of a “different” race than His own. And when His disciples returned and noticed that Jesus was not just talking with a woman but a Samaritan woman…we can still hear their gasps and hushed murmuring coming from the townsfolk centuries later - “for Jews do not associate with Samaritans.” (John 4:9)

I’m thankful that I get to raise my children to love Jesus and to model that “all are welcome” - at our church…in our home…and around our table. 

I’m thankful that my children don’t see “black” or “white” but comment on someone being “brown” or “light.” 

I’m thankful that they don’t let color become the deciding factor of establishing a friendship or not. In fact, they’ve one-upped my mere friendly wave and smile, while they jump and laugh and swim and play.

And I’m thankful for Homeschool Lesson #149 this week, because in History, I got to explain to my oldest what the King fought for, what Rosa Parks sat for, and what I believe, our Nation can still pray for:

For people to see people. 

To see every bit of beautiful brown and light white and dark black there is out there.

And the only way to fight the racism that ends in the street, is to be willing to talk about it first in our homes and foremost address it within our hearts. 

As mothers, we have the privilege and responsibility to teach our children to see people as people - not treating one color above another.

So pray for our Nation. Pray for our government. Pray for our leadership. 

Pray for justice. Pray for peace. And pray that we would be able to see in color, because…

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

2 Chronicles 7:14