Sweet little love,
my pinkish pale little chubster,
rosy cheeked with your tiny teeth poking through that grin.
You are white.
A color. An identity in our history.
You do not yet know any of this,
you did not choose this,
cannot lose this.
It is yours to cherish or diminish,
to grasp tightly or use rightly.
I pray that you will.
See, this country you were born into
though no choice or will of your own,
we have a darkness generations deep.
It colors all questions with a haze of hatred and misunderstanding
teaching us to fear the other, the OTHER.
The other who grew just like you up from a once tiny helpless babe,
one who did not choose to be born or where or what color.
In this way, you are the same.
Oh, my sweet son, innocent one.
Stumble into these difficult places with your brothers and sisters.
You will find your intentions muddied by the mess of it.
Do not despair. Blame not. Fear not.
Lean in. Rejoice. Embrace.
Study the hi(story) of your brothers.
And sisters. All.
Listen. Open your eyes.
Let their lives color your perspective
of our differences
and our sameness.
And so have purpose together.
Let all that you do not know
be an opportunity.
Learn the fullness of wisdom with another.
Today you grabbed my foot and held my toes to your belly and giggled,
pure and sweet and simple.
How you delight in your own joy and delight to share it.
My dear son already you know the way of love,
reaching out and drawing in.
Joy pure and infectious,
slicing through muddied hearts to reveal our small hopes,
even the ones thought lost, hidden deep inside.
Embrace it, for you and for those who cannot yet see it,
hope by the grace which is always leading us into the light.
The darkness makes long the road,
but the bright promise greets us from far off.
Run to meet it, my love.
Run hand-in-hand with the one you’d least expect
See how fear has no stranglehold on your hope?
This is Peace.
A small peace to set the world on fire.
Refining and purifying the human condition.
Raining down justice and love and grace.