Thinking about my friend, Becky, who has three sons the same ages as my three boys and how we have shared so many similar stories about them and the challenges of raising them over the years. Yet always recognizing that there is a big difference in our experiences of motherhood because Becky and her boys are black, and me and my boys are white. Talking with her about Trayvon Martin, and realizing that she has to have a whole set of conversations with her sons that I barely have to consider when talking to mine.
We haven't had a conversation about Ferguson. But whatever her thoughts, I know they are largely motivated by her love, care, and concern for her children. And I cannot deny that the world is a scarier and more dangerous place for them.
I keep thinking about Elvis Costello singing...what's so funny about peace love and understanding. I do not know. I really do not know.