My Heart Hurts

Like much of Dallas, I am heart broken for the police officers who lives were lost last week at the peaceful protest in downtown Dallas. A protest by people who were protesting because THEIR hearts hurt for the black men's lives lost the previous week.

Here I am. Just a 30-something middle class white lady. I know I will never be profiled at the airport or at a traffic stop. It doesn't mean that my heart doesn't hurt when it happens to other people.

My heart hurts every time I see another civilian killed by law enforcement. It hurts when I think of the officers killed in retaliation. It hurts when I think of how my 6 year old has wanted to be a police officer since he could declare a future occupation and now that scares me. It hurts when I admit that I was a little scared thinking about heading downtown to teach Tuesday. My heart hurts for the friend I saw on Facebook posting about how she will have to prep her black son for when he's 16, driving and eventually gets pulled over by a cop.

I feel like I haven't put much into words about the deaths of black men by police officers, because what can I say that doesn't sound like a clueless 30-something white girl? What do I know of racism? What do I know of being treated differently? No, I cannot empathize with the black community, but my heart hurts for you.

I am not married to a civil servant. Sure, my husband can get hurt at work, but the worst he's had has been a broken leg. I never have to worry about him being shot on the job. I cannot empathize with the families of the police officers killed, but my heart hurts for them.

I just ache for the hatred to stop. I want so badly for everyone to love and be loved. And, I realize we live in a fallen world. That won't ever really happen. But, at least we can hope for changes and pray for peace.