Inspiration:

 

After the wind storm
A tree has crashed on the path.
Just the place to sit.

–Lynn Ungar

Multi-Racial Families

Most people who talk about multiracial families talk about the beauty and joy of loving across difference. And there is plenty of beauty and joy. But there is pain too. In my family, there is the pain of hearing my twenty-year-old son say, “You can never understand how it is,” and being unable to deny that what he says is true. I will never know what he faces as a young black man in this still painfully racist culture. My white privilege has allowed me a lifetime of naiveté, keeping me blissfully unaware of the effects of racism on the soul: addiction, incarceration, violence, and despair. I never imagined my beautiful son would struggle with every one of them. My eyes and heart have been broken open and while that has given me room to grow, it has also been very painful.

In that struggle, I’ve had to search my heart and my faith tradition for strength, and I’ve been blessed to find it. Our commitment to diversity and justice is real and it matters, both in individual lives and in building a better world. That comforts and inspires me. But I’ve been surprised to find that what comforts me more is the messy and very human way we’ve had to learn about what it means to put our vision into practice. For every amazing, proud moment of justice-making, there have been assumptions and false starts, mistakes and missteps on the journey. Our best moments have often been when we’ve listened and learned and taken the time to make amends and a new beginning—picking up pieces and using them to build something new and beautiful.

In my family and in my spiritual community, I need to know that my imperfect efforts will be accepted and even blessed. That my heart—as many times as it has been broken and mended and broken again—is good enough and strong enough, even if the cracks sometimes show.