It feels like the infection of racism is no-where near rooted out, no matter how much we\u2019d like to think so. As a black woman, I still see it.\u00a0 Everyday.\u00a0 In crafty, insidious ways. Like shopping for shoes and at school pick-ups.\u00a0 Racism infects everyday social interactions for the African-American person.<\/strong> Most of the time, its as unnoticeable as the cold virus that sneaks around our system until we can\u2019t take it anymore and cough, cough, cough<\/em> we\u2019re unable to move out of bed. Racism slips quietly into our thinking forming negative stories, reinforcing undeserved pride, and shaping accusations.\u00a0 Until suddenly, pop, pop, pop<\/em> black bodies lie dying in the street and we\u2019re unable to move forward.<\/p>\n I feel sick with my own prejudices, too. I try to speak shalom when I\u2019m tempted to speak fear,<\/a> but fear is a persistent bedfellow for the closed-minded.\u00a0 I try so hard to not let my children see my anxiety and mistrust, but I don\u2019t want to hold my boy\u2019s bullet-riddled body and wonder,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhat could I have told him to prevent this?\u201d\u00a0 So, I live with the sickness of\u00a0 mistrust like the cavity that I keep putting off to fill.\u00a0 I\u2019m fighting over-generalizations and my impulse to demonize decent people trapped in an unjust system, but it\u2019s hard. I want to listen when I can\u2019t breathe,<\/a> but\u00a0 I\u2019m infected too.<\/strong><\/p>\n So, I made my soup.<\/p>\n I once heard of a monk who prayed<\/a> while he washed dishes, I like that, so I prayed while making soup and called it my \u201creconciliation soup\u201d.\u00a0 The recipe is in my journal written on the same page as my list of prayer requests.<\/p>\n Defrost Chicken Breasts:\u00a0<\/strong> Jesus, this issue of reconciliation and race is a dangerous one.\u00a0 It\u2019s full of possibilities to hurt.\u00a0 Like the salmonella that coats this very chicken, scary and dangerous and off-putting.\u00a0 I want to avoid handling it, but I can\u2019t.\u00a0 It\u2019s as vital to this soup as racial justice is to your Kingdom.\u00a0 It\u2019s essential to our formation into people who want to look like you.\u00a0 So, just like I take care to avoid the dangers of raw chicken help me handle this reconciliation with care.\u00a0 I respect the gritty nature of holding raw flesh in my hands so I\u2019m careful and afterwards, I wash\u00a0 everything thoroughly.\u00a0 Help me know how to respond to the raw words of fear and pride with care.\u00a0 Then, let me throughly wash every interaction in grace.<\/p>\n Dice Onions:\u00a0<\/strong> Jesus help me embrace the tears.\u00a0 Tears are not my enemy\u2013 they are indications of deeper prayers needing to be prayed.\u00a0 Help me pray the deep prayer as I dice and measure.<\/p>\n Slice Carrots:<\/strong> Some say eating carrots gives you good eye sight. If so, Jesus,\u00a0 I want to see people through your eyes.\u00a0 White and black.\u00a0 Police officer and politician.\u00a0 Story breakers and stay at home moms.\u00a0 They are all valuable to you, so they will be valuable to me. And just like I had to *acquire* a taste for carrots, let me *acquire* a taste for truth, love, and wholeness.<\/p>\n Add Noodles:\u00a0<\/strong> Lord, let us remember that we are intertwined. Let us not shy away from bumping into each other in the broth of reconciliation.\u00a0 Let us wrap around each other and soften our wills to yours.<\/p>\n Bring to\u00a0 Boil:<\/strong> Because the ingredients are only changed under pressure when the heat seems unbearable and the broth permeates the hardness, Jesus refine us in your fire.\u00a0 Let us submit to the heat of your call to unity because it brings the warmth of wholeness.\u00a0 Let this unbearable pressure of black families mourning and communities torn permeate the hardness of our hearts.<\/p>\n Simmer until the aroma of peace fills your kitchen and serve.<\/strong><\/p>\n Seeking Shalom One Reconciliation Soup at a Time, P.S.\u00a0 You can email me at osheta@gmail.com and I\u2019ll send you my recipe, if you\u2019d like.\u00a0 This post was inspired by Preston Yancey\u2019s post \u201cwhen there is no way but through, or, when there is room at this table\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n![\"o-BLACK-GIRLS-MATTER-facebook\"](\"https:\/\/oshetablogs.files.wordpress.com\/2015\/05\/o-black-girls-matter-facebook.jpg?w=660\")
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\nChop Celery:<\/strong> I don\u2019t understand celery, Lord.\u00a0 It\u2019s punchy, sharp, bitter taste seems too much for this soup. Too bold.\u00a0 Over-poweing.\u00a0 But simmered with the other ingredients, it creates a healing broth.\u00a0 Lord, my anger feels like the celery.\u00a0 I don\u2019t understand it;\u00a0 it\u2019s too much.\u00a0 I ask you to take it, break it down in to something useful,\u00a0 and let it simmer mixed in with your love and wisdom until it creates something life-giving.\u00a0 Every recipe for chicken noodle soup calls for the celery, so I\u2019ll use it.\u00a0 Every act of reconciliation calls for a safe space for sharp words and hard truths- so I\u2019ll use them and trust they will transform relationships like the celery transforms the soup.<\/p>\n![\"FullSizeRender\"](\"https:\/\/oshetablogs.files.wordpress.com\/2015\/05\/fullsizerender.jpg?w=660\")
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\nToss In Leftover Frozen Peas:<\/strong>\u00a0 Jesus, thank you that in the Father\u2019s economy- nothing is wasted!\u00a0 Not our fears, not our sadness, not our tears, not our questions, and most definitely, not our prayers. Especially when we pray for your shalom.\u00a0 Lord, take our prayers that sometimes feel like not enough and make a banquet table of hope before us.<\/p>\n![\"FullSizeRender_1\"](\"https:\/\/oshetablogs.files.wordpress.com\/2015\/05\/fullsizerender_1.jpg?w=660\")
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