I haven’t posted anything this week.
With everything that’s happening, I should have something to say. But every time I try to express what I feel, I come up empty.
Here’s what I know: I need to listen more. So I’ll do my best to do that. And I’ll share with you a story I posted earlier on social media. Apologies if you already saw it.
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Rachel is my cousin – she’s actually my cousin’s daughter, but this isn’t about genealogy.
In 2016, Rachel’s husband rode the FRONT RANGE TOUR. He’s a great guy and a really strong cyclist. Our team was blessed by his kind, gentle, wise presence.
We completed our ride on Sunday afternoon. After a week away, he was anxious to see his family. So he hopped in his car and headed out for an all-night drive from Fort Collins to Kansas City.
Early Monday morning, Rachel texted to say her husband was home and safe. I could sense the relief in her words, because I knew she worried that he might not survive the trip. But she wasn’t afraid he’d fall asleep.
Moïse is African-American. Rachel feared that somewhere in rural America, when he stopped for gas or coffee, someone might decide he didn’t belong.
Rachel lives with that fear, for her husband and her three beautiful children. She lives with it every single day.
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We can’t stop…I know that. I need Jesus’ help to move forward, because what I’m doing ain’t working.
I’m praying for you, and us, to find that way forward together.