An Expectation

I’ve developed this sort of expectation of losing someone close to me to violence. It’s not exactly a fear, but it’s close to one. I feel myself bracing for it, as if it is inevitable. Sometimes I wonder who it might be—George? Alvin? Amber? Joseph? They are all young, these people that pop up in my mind as possible victims. And as I fear something that hasn’t even happened yet (and may never happen) I am jarred awake as I listen to mothers testify about losing their sons to murder, and as I learn that the State of NC has schedule once again to kill two men—Willie Brown on April 21, Jerry Connor on May 12. I don’t know these men, and I didn’t know the mothers’ sons. But I am awakened by their stories. Their pain, their grief—it’s real. It’s not a fear. It’s not an expectation. It is happening right now. Kids I know and love are being hurt by their mothers. Kids I know and love are being thrown around by the system. Kids I know and love aren’t able to read at age 12. Even the police officers who arrest us at Central Prison on the night of the executions—I see in them their pain, their struggle. And even though it is something I cannot see, my hope lies in this: we are all part of God’s story. We are all God’s people and he knows all our stories, all our grief, and even all the grief to come. My story, my life, is bound up in their lives because we are bound together in the life of Christ. And we, along with all of creation, groan together as we await his return. Come, Lord Jesus.

-Leah