Is he hungry? Is he doing his work? Is he working too hard? Is he driving safe? Does he know how loved he is? Is he getting enough vitamins? Does he know how proud of him I am? Is he drinking enough water? Feeling OK? Hungry?
The litany of mother worries never ends. I’m not talking about obsessive compulsive or fear-filled worry, I’m just talking about the casual micro concerns moms have regardless of the age of our kids. The thoughts. The feels. All of them.
There are bigger concerns, too. Every mother has them. But not every mother’s bigger concerns are the same.
I worry about fulfillment. Job choices. Is he happy? Is he dealing with his grief well? Where is he at with God? Will he find a love worth his heart?
However, as a white mom of white sons, I’ve ever known the additional worries as a mom of black sons.
Her list could be the same as mine above, but then there is:
Does he know what to do if he gets pulled over? Keep your hands visible. Say “Sir.” Be polite. Do whatever the officer says.
Does he know to be careful who he has eye contact with? And for how long?
Does he know that the color of his skin communicates malintent to some?
And today we add:
Is he somewhere with an officer’s knee crushing his windpipe as others look on in disbelief, trying to speak sense into the situation while slowly watching him die?
Is he hungry? Did he take his vitamins? Is he drinking enough water?
So similar, yet, so different.
From my perspective, I’ll never fully be able to know your worries. I’ll never fully be able to know the experiences that shape them. But I’m listening. Mamas – I see your boys. I see them dying in the streets. Unjustly. I see a world that justifies the unjustifiable.
I see a world that walks by. Does nothing.
And I see those trying to make a difference.
I may not get it, Mama. But I’m trying.
To those gentlemen: George Floyd and Amaud Arbery, their mothers, and the countless others lost and affected by similar actions – I see you. I hear you. I’m with you. I’m listening. Because it matters. Always.
Lord, Jesus –
Let me be counted among those trying to make a difference, not those who walk by in indifference.
Give me courage.
Lord, bless those who mourn. Comfort them.
Give worried mamas courage. Give us all courage to change the things that must be changed, and wisdom to know HOW.
Lord, Jesus have mercy. Bring justice. Let it start with each of us.
In Jesus’ name.
Tracey Solomon lives in Michigan with her three sons and three dogs. She’s a widow and realtor. She’s been a MOPS leader for over 30 years, and loves Jesus, people and coffee. Find more of her writing at www.traceysolomon.com.