I'm at the kitchen table listening to the creak of the kettle, the rain in the airshaft, the murmur of jesse's work call, the neighbor's music--and yet it feels very still. All muffled through my hair, and through my fuzzy brain. I wish I had a really engrossing read. I've felt very secure in my book stock till now and there are still a lot I haven't read but I can see the end and that's unsettling for a mood based reader.
A video was released of a lynching, two months ago. More and more statistics of who exactly are dying from covid-19 come out everyday. This is why I have to swallow my conflict aversion when people around me are racist. As a Christian, who is has a phobia of conflict, I truly think it is more important to speak up against racism inside the church (and outside but, let's be honest, it's mostly inside) than it is to witness to those outside the church. For many reasons, but how are we to ever have any platform to say anything when this festering center is allowed to remain???
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