White on Black

Yesterday Irie and I pulled out of the driveway and much to our surprise saw police officers walking up and down our street, some of them taking pictures. They were gathering evidence. Under the cover of darkness someone had taken a can of spray paint and used it to graffiti several hateful words and pictures on various parts of our block. The city of Winooski just repaved our street last month so the symbolism of the bold white paint burned into the black asphault of Hickok St. was unmistakable. The N-Word. Then two doors down from that more hatred. "Kill all Bosnians". At first I just shook my head in sadness. Then, after fifteen or twenty seconds my belly literally started to turn hot. It was as if all the evil and hate of those words had entered my body, settled down into the pit of my stomach and then brewed. I began to fume. I drove around the block three times, looking for someone with a guilty grin. I wanted to beat the hell out of someone.

And then after a little while I remembered that you can't beat the hell out of anyone. You have to love the hell out of them. Which is the hardest thing to do in the world.

This coming Sunday the lectionary reading is from the twenty-third chapter of Saint Luke. I don't know if a word from God has ever spoke more timely or meaningfully or directly to me. "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."

That is my prayer. I ask all those who read this to pray it with me. Pray it for me.

The thing that sickens and saddens me the most is that as I am reading this trash the first thing I think of is my Gabs all settled in innocently in the backseat without the feintest idea of the kind of world that she has been born into. The kind of world we chose to bring her into. I am so sorry for that and wish that I could protect her. But I can't. I can only do what I did tonight. I took her into my arms and bless her eyes for the things she will see.