My Mother-in law was just here. She was here to speak, to teach, of the Civil Rights Movement, at an amazing Spirituals Project concert that we had the privilege of attending. I’m not just saying this because my Mother-in-law reads this blog. Or because I want to give a shout out to Larry Bograd and Coleen Hubbard who directed a powerful documentary on The Spirituals Project and the history of this important music. But, since I’m talking about you, go ahead and take a well deserved bow. Kudos!
About halfway through the performance, Margaret told the story of 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing. She told of the 4 young girls that were killed that Sunday and of the women, mothers, who stood there wailing and pulling out their hair in grief and disbelief. I sat next to a woman, a mother, a friend who is walking this lonely journey with me. Who has stood there wailing and pulling out her hair in grief and disbelief. We sat there with our husbands, the fathers, who for some reason are never really mentioned when discussing the loss of a child. I wonder what the fathers did that day in 1963. I’m pretty sure they wanted to wail and pull their hair out too. I didn’t wail that night at the concert, but I did weep. I wept through the entire singing of He Knows How Much We Can Bear. I wept for the four girls that died that day. I wept for Tuesday and for Emmy. The four of us didn’t talk about it that night. I guess we didn’t need to. We just knew. That night I had an epiphany that the four little girls that were killed that day in 1963 were our little girls. Their story belongs to all of us. Just like Tuesday’s story is your story if you keep coming to share in it. Suffering should not be a solitary act. It should be shared. In that sharing there is empathy and a new understanding of humanity that softens this world and makes us want to be better. I believe that God designed it that way. That part is pretty easy to understand. I’m still trying to understand the part where He knows how much we can bear. I don’t get it, but I do believe it. I do feel it. Most of the time anyway. He’s keeping me from washing down stream. Is God the dam or is it just his finger in the dyke? Keeping me from the flood. Does it matter? Even when I’m at the end of my rope, he knows how much I can bear. After all, I haven’t drowned yet.
I was only 7 years old in 1963 and living on the opposite side of the world, but I remember hearing about the event on the news and seeing photos in the paper and the memory has never left me. Possibly it has influenced my whole outlook and attitude to suffering.
Your website and voice are beautiful. Thank you for it.
“Suffering should not be a solitary act.”
How true. I’m always thankful when you (or someone like you) share your story with me. It’s heartbreaking to read and my stomach turns when I think of all that you’ve been through…..and yet…..I am compelled to read. Maybe it’s because I need to be reminded that life is not always fair and that whatever I’m going through today is pretty tame compared to what other people are living through.
Thank you for writing. I’ll keep reading.
sometimes i still freeze in place and feel her name breathed on my neck and in my heart and i start weeping because my baby, oh, the little girl tuesday, i miss her so.
you’re in my heart and all of yours are in my heart and i would carry as much as i could and can to let you continue to feel support…
sending love. a
Good to hear from you. I think of you and your family often.
Wow. Thank you for sharing this.
Oh wow Jess! I am so glad you find comfort in His arms. It’s the place to turn when you know you can do it yourself and even when you think you can.
Do you know just how brillant you are? Because, I think He does and I think that is part of His plan. He is using you to teach one of the saddest and most powerful lessons and I love you for being such a wonderful teacher.
Sometimes i wish i was that strong……im not
Thank you for continuing to inspire me every single day of my life. I have stopped trying to make sense of things like loss and just put all my energy into having faith that God is leading us down the right path. Reading the words that you write only strengthens those affirmations.
I am with Shar on this one. Great words of inspiration. I think of you often.
I barely remember the song because all I could think about were those girls the same ages as my girls and the sisters, one who lived and one who died, Emmy and Tuesday and all the rest of our kiddos and all mothers and fathers everywhere who have had their children ripped away. And I couldn’t even look at any of you because the commonality of the human experience juxtaposed with the sheer lunacy that is racism was just so much, and you know how I don’t like to cry in front of people.
I just want to stand up an applaud your words, your faith. I have goosebumps on my arms and tears in my eyes. My heart sits heavy in my chest. I am moved by your ability to share so openly with all of us. Though strangers, many of us we come here to lift you up in prayer and let you know that Tuesday touched our lives and she lives on in our hearts.
You are truly amazing. You words alway make me think about how I want to live my life. You are an inspriation! Love you always!
Dear Jessica, you have a real talent for writing. You are a strong and brave young woman, sharing your thoughts and feelings the way you do. I still pray for you and your family and for Tuesday. I can’t tell you how deeply Tuesday touched my heart. We learn to live with the pain and over time it is not so intense but it is always there. I love you.