Several months ago, I was walking Scout at a local park when I came across a large “Path Closed” sign. I was confused as to why but I turned around and headed back from where I had been. I later found out that a woman had been struck by a huge tree that truly just randomly fell over. There wasn’t any high wind, rains, lightning, anything – she was just in the wrong place at exactly the wrong moment. Gratefully, she recovered from her injuries but walking by that place, pieces of that tree are still there. The asphalt path is still cracked where the tree fell and there are still chalk outlines of areas where the path needs to be fixed. As I walked past a few days ago, I noticed one small purple flower blooming. I prayerfully reflected upon what had taken place there and gave thanks for that little glimpse of beauty emerging. It doesn’t remove the pain, it doesn’t erase what had happened and the “scars” still remain. But there is beauty and hope.
Today, there are many remembrances being shared about how it was a year ago today that George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis. There are vigils and services taking place where he died and people have actually been holding vigil there every day over the last year. The hope is that place, even with the scars that remain, can be a source that can lead to something healing, restorative, transformational – not just in that one localized spot but far beyond.
As a person of faith, that’s what I have to hold to not only on this day but every day. There is a lot of pain, suffering, trial, difficulty, hurt, and wounding in this world. In the midst, I have to hold to the hope that something can emerge – not in a causality sense like God caused such and such to happen so that something else can emerge but instead that God can work (in and through us) in the midst of aqnd through these circumstances where we can see something that gives us pause whether it is on an asphalt path surrounded by the pieces of a broken tree or whether it is an asphalt and concrete street where a man lost his life.