This morning finds me reflective on the many good blessings I have been fortunate enough to receive this year. My family is all relatively healthy. We are safe and sound in the midst of great trauma. I work for an amazing company, who has been supportive and gracious in various difficult circumstances. But most of all, I am thankful to God that he continues to support me, even when I feel most lost and helpless.
We have watched in horror as our city is destroyed around us. The buildings I walk past every morning smolder in the early sun as my neighbors hide in their homes. The sounds of helicopters buzzing overhead and gunshots ringing out have become common place. It is enough to make anyone bitter as we wait helplessly for some kind of positive outcome. If I choose to focus on this heartbreak I quickly dissolve into a puddle of tears. Where is God? Why does he allow this to happen? Haven’t I prayed and prayed for Ferguson to be delivered from this evil? Why hasn’t it? Why do these strangers insist on tearing down every good thing the hard-working people of my beloved town have worked so hard to build? Where are the leaders who promised to protect us?
Last night I stretched on my yoga mat in front of the fire. I was cold to the bone and desperately trying to warm up. My youngest son stretched out beside me. “Mom, I want to do a sit up.” I dutifully pressed down on his 6-year-old ankles while he squinted and grunted. “I can’t do it!” So I asked him to hold my ankles while I showed him how. You see, he had never done a sit-up before. After I showed him how we tried again. This time he did 18 sit-ups. It was amazing to see his wiry little body moving. This strange, strong little man-to-be was trying so hard to be like his mom. I really never consider how great an impact my healthy lifestyle has on my children. Every day they watch me get up and exercise. I think my older kids could care less, but my youngest, who never knew me as a heavy person, wants to emulate me and it makes me so proud of all I’ve accomplished.
I explained to my son why it is so important for a Juvenile diabetic to exercise. Exercise helps regulate blood sugar in a way no amount of insulin will. I told him that exercise is one of the best ways to care for his body and he was so delighted to hear that, he insisted on working out with me this morning. We put great dents in the yoga mat while the news reporters went on about the new damage in Ferguson, Missouri.
I don’t know what the future holds for Ferguson. If I try to think too far ahead I get lost in worries that have no business occupying my thoughts. I know that I love my city and my neighbors. Watching the destruction is kind-of like watching a loved one be devoured by cancer. There is nothing I can do to stop it. I can hope and pray that the illness passes, but right now, I just don’t know. I know that good and responsible people are tired of fighting against people who consume without contributing. My neighbors who try to find ways of rebuilding are met with acrimony by those with bitter hearts who desperately want to tear down. Ferguson struggles to overcome the negative by contributing positive stories but those are buried by the larger, more negative narrative. The teeter totter rises and falls, but regardless of effort, the heaviest rider will land and plant his feet while the other is left dangling.
This morning as I jogged around Ferguson I saw people painting the boarded up buildings. Ferguson Optical has a picture of a beautiful tree painted on it. I stopped to say hello to the painter and her friends and told them, “Thank you! It is beautiful.” Then I met another woman who told me Wellspring Church is hosting free Thanksgiving lunch for anyone who wants to participate. Even among the ashes, beauty abounds. That is when I realized my prayers are answered. Yes, there is great evil in the world, but there is also great good. God is here. He loves us, and He shines through the darkness. Today I am thankful for His grace and goodness, even when the hope in my heart flickers. God doesn’t shy away from bad neighborhoods or violence. The story of Ferguson doesn’t surprise him. I believe he entered this story a long time ago and even though we can’t see Him, his love for us is alive and real.
Today I am thankful for 17 years of good memories in Ferguson, Missouri. I have lived and loved here. I lost 140 pounds walking its streets. I have raised my children here. No matter what the future brings, nothing and no one can take those beautiful memories away from me.
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