This is NOT my story

DISCLAIMER: This is NOT my story ... this is my brother's story. But as his sister, who listened in horror as he told it to me, I HAVE to say something.

When Michael Brown was gunned down in the streets of Ferguson, MO, I kept quiet. I didn't take to my blog or Facebook or anywhere else to discuss my feelings. And when I finally did, I was ... for lack of a better word, attacked ... by someone I thought I knew very well and who I thought knew me very well ... as being a racist or race baiter or some other inflammatory term that was used to try and put me in my place. After going round and round with her about it, I said, "let's just agree to disagree" and sat down and was quiet again. And then Walter Scott was killed in North Charleston, SC - and I kept quiet. Akai Gurley was gunned down in a stairwell in Brooklyn, NY and I kept quiet. In New York, Freddy Gray mysteriously broke his own spine while in police custody and eventually died from the injuries - I kept quiet. And the list of names goes on and on ... and I still kept quiet.

But then today, something happened that hit too close to home and I can no longer keep quiet. You see, today the craziness brought itself right up to my doorstep and into my heart and life. This morning, my brother rode his bike up to a drive thru window at a bank and was told that since he was not in a vehicle, they could not take his deposit and that he would have to go into the branch located in the mall to conduct his business. Ok. That's a little frustrating - he's at the window, take the money - but that's your policy, ok, I'll go inside the mall. He rides up to the mall and sees that there is no where to securely lock his bike, so he rolls it into the mall with him. He enters the bank. All of a sudden, the security guard is in his face, screaming and cursing, that he needs to get out of the bank with his bike. According to my brother (and to a little old lady who later came to his defense), my brother CALMLY responded, "there was nowhere for me to secure my bike outside, I will only be here for a minute, just chill out". The guard continued to yell and scream and curse at my brother - which drew the attention of other customers in the bank, who pulled out their cell phones and began recording the incident, as well as other shop owners near the bank. Now, my brother lives in the area, shops at the mall all the time and the shop owners know him to be a respectful, well-mannered customer. They also came to the bank to stand in defense of my brother. (Praise God for being raised the way we were. Our mother taught us to ALWAYS greet people with respect and this paid off today.) When the security guard continued to yell and curse at my brother, he asked to see his supervisor. Another "gentleman" came on the scene, as well as a police officer in the area. The police officer, without assessing the situation or asking any of the witnesses around my brother what happened, joins in the noise and hoopla of screaming and cursing at my brother. Now, if you know my brother, you know at this point, things got ugly and harried and potentially dangerous. Fortunately, when the security guard tried to say that he never cursed at my brother and that Kevin was the one agitating the situation, a little old lady came to his defense. Told the newly arrived "supervisor" and the police officer, that my brother had been nothing but a gentleman - had held the door open for her, and did not respond to the security guard who was originally screaming and cursing at him.

I don't know how the situation was resolved without my brother being put in the back of the police vehicle and carted away. I don't know why guns weren't drawn and shots fired. I can only credit the protective power of God and the fact that my mother calls the names of my brother (and me) every day in prayer.

As I listened to my brother tell his story, he was still angry. He was still cursing. He was still mad. So I had to keep quiet again to allow him to blow off the steam necessary for him to then turn around and walk into his place of employment without wanting to gun down every employee in the place who looks like and acts like the police officer and security guard that tried to hem him up because he rolled a bike into a bank. Now, I don't know about you, but I've seen other people (bike messengers, couriers, etc) RIDE their bikes into businesses and no one says a word. Was it the color of my brother's skin that prompted this security guard to react in the way that he did? Maybe. But according to my brother, the security guard that started the fight was a Black man. Only the police officer who came on the scene last was not Black. So I am not "race baiting" as I tell this story.

I am saddened and terrified by the world in which we live. A world where police officers, more often than not, are the enemy and not our friends. A world where Black men (and women) seem to have targets on their backs for every power hungry person with a little bit of ... authority with a gun strapped to their side. I cringe every time I see a video where someone not of color is allowed to spit in the face of a police officer - nothing happens - or run towards a police officer with a knife in their hand - nothing happens - BUT let a Black man run AWAY from a police officer and the police officer can shoot him 8 times in the back and say, "I feared for my life" and if not for the video of a citizen showing otherwise, would have gotten away with it. It sickens me and makes me sooo glad that I didn't bear any beautiful Black baby boys to grow up in fear of their lives.

This is not the first time my brother has had a run-in with the police. Unfortunately, I know in my heart and guts and soul, that this won't be the last. All I can do is join my mother in her prayers for his continued protection and safety until such time that he can move out of the neighborhood that he lives in, and into one where things are "better" (whatever THAT means in today's society).

I usually try to wrap up my blog postings with a scriptural lesson - a text - something that points to God. I am at a loss. Maybe it's the anger. Maybe it's the sadness. I don't know. I know I am grateful to God for protecting my brother. I have been to way too many funerals today and am not ready to don a black dress and sit on the front pew of a church and listen to people spin stories about the man they know my brother to be. I am not ready to have to support my mother through the senseless loss of her only child. I am not ready to become a campaigner or crusader against injustices found every day in our community and around the world. I'm not ready.

DIVINE APPOINTMENTS

I am a big fan of the essay series, THIS I BELIEVE. I keep saying I am going to submit an essay, but am not sure which “truth” about my life and belief system is the core foundational belief that supersedes every other belief. I believe in the theory of reciprocity. I believe I am “the” Favorite. I believe in the power of music – and food – and coffee. I believe the life is too short to keep people in your life who make you cry. And as Kevin Costner famously said in his movie, BULL DURHAM, “and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.” (yeah, it’s been a while since that has been a reality in my life, but I still believe in them.) I do NOT believe in “fate”, “luck” or “coincidences.” Instead, increasingly, I believe in “divine appointments.” I believe that God puts people in our path for specific divine interactions and purposes if we will just open ourselves up to the possibilities.

For most of my life, I have never felt “comfortable” witnessing to others about my relationship with God. I have never been a person who could just pass out a track or start up a conversation with random strangers about my relationship with God and what it means to me. I tend to be more of a “let my life show my relationship” type of witnesser. That doesn’t mean that I won’t talk about God with my friends, but the random stranger – yeah, not so much. Even with this blog, I feel like I am talking to my friends who already know me (and my craziness), so it is easy to talk about it. And even though increasingly more and more “strangers” are reading my thoughts and opinions, I guess I feel like I am a step removed from the witness. But because God has a sense of humor when it comes to dealing with His Favorite Child (that would be me), He has begun placing me in situations where I am compelled to speak up and out about Him.

This past Monday, I had a meeting at the bank to refinance my home. Before meeting with the attorney who would be handling the closing, I had a brief conversation with the mortgage broker, Mr. Carter, who’d been holding my hand through the process for the last month. During the course of our interactions, Mr. Carter had become aware of the release of my book and in fact, has a copy of the book in his possession. He asked how book sales were going and chastised me for not “shamelessly promoting [yourself] and the book every chance [you] get.” With that condemnation ringing in my ears, I walked into the refinance room and spent a good 45 minutes with the closing attorney, Mr. Jones. At the end of signing my life away (again) so that Mom and I could continue to have a roof over our heads (but at a lower interest rate and therefore, lower monthly payment – woo hoo!), I casually mentioned that I’d just published a book, and handed over a marketing card. When Mr. Jones asked what the book was about, I told him that it was about my relationship with Christ and how He shows up in my life in very simple, everyday, ordinary ways, but how that in itself is extra-ordinary to me.

All of a sudden, this ruddy Irish man turned even redder in complexion and his eyes filled with tears. Very quietly he said to me, “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Everyone has trials in their life and I am going through a very rough time in my life right now and today has been especially hard for me. I truly appreciate what you just said to me.” I was stunned! For 45 minutes, this man had laughed and joked with me and made what could have been a tedious process “enjoyable.” I would have never guessed he was “going through” anything. And if I had stayed true to form, I would have never opened up to him about me, my book or my relationship with Christ.

But God had a different plan – for me and for Mr. Jones and even for Mr. Carter, who feed into me that I needed to “shamelessly promote” myself – which led to the conversation that Mr. Jones and I were supposed to have. I am glad that I listened to the prompting and stepped outside my normal comfort zone in order to be a blessing.

And just as I was placed in the Wells Fargo bank on Monday, recently, two of my co-workers were placed in my path to bless me when I needed it. Without going into detail, a great big “thank you” to Marques Richards and Tamara Cotton for feeding into my soul when I needed the blessings they gave to me. Even when you are “the Favorite”, you need human encouragement and consolation and when I needed it, these two people gave it to me and I am forever grateful.

As you move through your day, I encourage you to keep your eyes open for the “divine appointments” God has set up for you. You will be blessed, as will the people with whom you interact.

Be blessed.

©2012 Kristina E. Smith