Yesterday was the #BlackLivesMatter protest in Oklahoma City. My daughter, who has a flame for social justice, wanted to attend. My wife agreed, but only if she could join her. Then my father in law said they could go only if he could join them. The concern was that it was just that dangerous. Together, three generations of Wilsons would march for the cause of justice. I was proud. My son was away on a church mission trip in Dallas, so he wouldn’t be joining them. So my wife said to me, “You need to stay home, just in case. Our son needs a father.”
My wife was dead serious.
She said it in a matter of fact way. Very nearly cheerfully. But she said it without a hint of irony. I’m in a place in my life where I am in complete trust of God. He has not steered me wrong. Things have turned out for the best in every possible way. But who am I to determine what the best is? My wife and daughter were willing to die for a cause they believe deeply in and it was serious enough that they needed me to stay home just in case.
How many chances does a person have to be willing to die for a cause? And yet it was a real possibility. The climate on the #blacklivesmatter / #bluelivesmatter front is stormy with a chance of catastrophe.
Me? Well I fixed some popcorn and watched my favorite too-hot-to-go-out movie, Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rear Window”, and enjoyed a rare moment of solitude. I chose not to worry about it. There was peace on my heart that day. I knew that they were in God’s hands and so was I.
They returned in their overheated black clothes with sunburn on their necks and love on their faces. I hugged them both, and in gratitude, I washed the dishes. Yeah, it was my chore to begin with, but that doesn’t mean I was gonna do it. But I did it knowing that I had played my part by staying home…
just in case.