This morning - I am mindful of the store owners, managers and employees - and their families - in Ferguson. On what should be a week of Thanksgiving - it's sad that the thing they might be the most thankful for is to still be alive.
In my mind I imagine the following:
A
little girl gets up early in the morning. She is about 2 to 3 years
old. She exits her room in her pink footy pajamas, thinking that Mommy
and Daddy are late getting her up, and wondering why. Her blanket
trailing her, she walks down the hallway of her home, looking for her
parents.
About
halfway down the hallway, she hears something she's never heard before -
the sound of her father crying. At first, this scares her - she's never
heard her father cry. Then she hears the comforting voice of her
mother, that same voice that comforts her when she is sad and crying.
Only this time - she's comforting her husband.
The
little girl walks to her parents bedroom, the door is open. The
emotional impact of her father crying has already started tears down her
face, she feels his pain, even if she does not know what it is.
The little girl peeks around the door and carefully into the room, where she sees her parents. They are in their pajamas, and
her mother is there, just holding her father. His face is buried into
her breasts somewhat muffling the sobs. Her arms are wrapped around
him, and she is just holding him, comforting him, loving him.
The
little girl's mother looks up and notices our little girl peeking into the room, who's name is Anna. The
mother musters up a smile for Anna, and Anna musters a smile back. Mothers always seem to sense when their children are around.
"Come on child.", Anna's mother says as she gestures Anna to come up on the bed with them.
Anna
slowly enters the room, the sight of her father crying scares her and
makes her feel a little less safe at that moment. She stops and takes a
moment, unsure.
"It's
ok Anna, common.", her mother beckons her. For Anna does not know the
degree of comfort that she gives her own mother at moments like this.
Anna is her mothers little safety blanket.
Anna
takes a deep breath and then walks over to the bed where her mother and
father are. She climbs up on the bed and gently crawls over up in between her parents. Her parents, who are sitting up slightly, their heads and bodies cushioned by
pillows, make space for her as she crawls up.
Anna's
father tries hard to compose himself so that Anna won't be afraid, but
he know's it's too late. Yet more embarrassment to add to the moment for
him. Yet, he knows that it is simply the way things are. Nothing is
the same anymore, nothing will be the same for a long time, if ever.
"Why is Daddy Crying?", Anna asks her mother in a voice that is only slightly less than that of a whisper.
Her mother looked at her father. The love, compassion and concern for her husband clearly evident.
"Your
father is sad, Anna, because some bad people burned down his store last
night. He is sad because some of the people who did this, he knew. One
he even thought was his friend. "
"Why did they burn the store down mommy?", Anna replied.
"I
don't know for sure honey.", was all her mother could say. In fact,
this was a true statement. She didn't understand the violence. She
didn't understand the hatred. She didn't understand why their families
store had to be burned down last night.
"What happens now, Mommy?", Anna asked.
Her
mother had no ready response for Anna. She reflected on the many
ramifications from last nights burning of their shop. Her husband had
minimal insurance, with a high deductible. Everything was destroyed in
the fire, and he wasn't even sure that his insurance would cover him at
all since the fire was the result of a riot.
Then
there was the question of the emotional ability of rebuilding in
Ferguson. The feeling of betrayal and pain and sadness was almost more
than they could bear. He had told her that he wasn't even sure he wanted
to rebuild at all, much less in Ferguson. In one moment he went from
loving this town and the people within it, to escaping the destruction
of his store and the loss of his own life.
The
store had been his dream. It had been the promise of a bright future
for Anna, and his family. With it's loss, he was unsure how he would
proceed or what he would do. He'd been emasculated in the worst way
possible, by people he'd trusted.
Anna's
father sat up in bed, and looked at Anna. He needed her hugs. He
reached out her arms to Anna and wrapped them around her. Anna
reciprocated the embrace, telling her daddy, "I love you, Daddy."
And
in those words, and in the words of his wife, he took comfort. He was
thankful that day, he realized. He was thankful for them. Yet, he hurt
greatly, because he did not know how he would provide for them in the
future. He did not know what he would do, where he might get a job or
where he might go to get a job. He did not know how he would explain to
his Anna that Christmas this year was going to be different than she was
used to. He didn't know how he was going to tell her that there would
not be the after Christmas clothes shopping that Anna and her mother did
last year.
He
didn't know how he was going to pay the bills next month, much less
provide a Christmas. Everything he had, he put into the store.
Everything he saved, he used to repair the store after the first riots.
Now, there was nothing left. There was no savings, no income, no
retirement. Nothing. He would have to start all over again.
Yes,
the people of Ferguson had hurt one of their own, and in fact, Anna's
story is just one of many likely stories. A story of selfish people,
without principle, lofted from issue to issue by leadership that lacked
morals and only sought power. A story of a family ripped apart by greed,
anger and lawlessness. A family ripped apart by the mistaken belief
that somehow there would be peace. Their life savings lost in the
mistaken hope that humanity would triumph.
Pray for the Anna's - the truly innocent.
