Church: a family working for the good of all

As my daughter and I stood on the side of the road last week after she was in a minor traffic accident, a woman in a minivan drove by slowly and leaned out her window asking, “Everything ok?”

Having received a similar call from the same child two weeks before, my daughter and I were both beyond frustrated to be dealing with car issues yet again. It was hot outside. I was impatient. My daughter was feeling defeated. I answered for the both of us and said, “We’re good” but the woman rolled right on by. She inched forward, looked directly into my daughter’s eyes and said, “Do you need help?”

As parents, especially mothers, I think we take on this type of collective answering in far more situations than we should. I’m actually really, really good at it.  A chronic fixer, I was moving through this teachable moment about roadside assistance, deductibles and other fun insurance related terms while we surveyed the scene. You can imagine my daughter’s joy. From my perspective, she was unhurt and now that I had arrived there was nothing for anyone to worry about. 

From an outsider’s perspective we don’t look like mother and daughter. I’m an adoptive mom and while I’m usually the palest person in just about any room, my daughter has the most beautiful ebony skin. I was driving a brand-new car and she was driving an old hand-me-down sedan; the type of vehicle you love more for its steadfastness than its aesthetics. I was dressed for work at the church, she was in athletic gear with a messy bun as she walked dogs in the heat of the midday sun. Nothing about us matched that day, and nobody would have guessed we share the same last name.

My automatic response to wave the woman off with a “We’re ok” speaks to how quickly I identify myself as the voice people want to hear. She didn’t take the opportunity to correct me for answering a question I had not been asked. Instead she doubled down and honed in on directly asking my daughter a very important question.

I wish I could hug this woman and tell her how much I appreciate her checking on my child, from one (former) minivan driving mom to another. I would also thank her for teaching me in that moment. My daughter did need help–she needed guidance and reassurance that this wasn’t the end of the world even though it felt that way to her. This woman could sense it from across the street and took action to make sure she was safe.

We spend years of our lives dedicated to helping our children navigate how to move through this world, and in our home, the color of our skin can’t be ignored. While I have spent a lot of time modeling for my children how to love others, seek justice and be good neighbors, I realized I haven’t intentionally talked with my twentysomething daughters about what it looks like for a black woman to show up for a younger black woman because that’s never been my reality. This woman did that in a profound way for my daughter last week.

I am not suggesting that any person shouldn’t show up for any other person, regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, orientation, difference of ability or any other uniqueness that one might present. I have absolutely no doubt that had I been the one in need of help, she would have recognized that and cared for my every need. But I don’t know how it feels to be a young black woman on the side of the road in a predominantly white neighborhood. My place of privilege gives me blind spots that I need to step back from and take stock of on a regular basis; stop answering for others and listen more. I am so grateful that what I’m sure seemed like a small but intentional gesture for her also turned into a teachable moment for me and my daughter.  

Thank you, mama, for your spirit of gentleness and good works looking out for my baby ❤!