Last week, my beloved nephew and kids filled a chalkboard with their names. Little did they know the profound weight “Floyd” would hold for our country by week’s end.
I’ve been at a loss today. Words, thoughts, productive anything beyond lament over the evil brought center stage and my shameful lack of urgency therein before now.
Floyd was my grandfather, my Papa – the most honorable man I’ve ever known.
Floyd is my nephew – the most beloved and joyful and long prayed for blessing my family has ever received.
Floyd is a murdered man, a cry for justice, and a spotlight on the heinous, demonic beast of racism woven in and through these “United” States. A kind soul slain beneath a resolute knee.
And, wouldn’t you know, “Floyd” literally means “grey” – a poignant reminder of remaining ambiguous for too long, thrust center stage in our nation’s consciousness.
But there can be no grey here! Neutrality simply does not exist. Racism, in any form, is sin and must be snuffed out completely.
Floyd is my heritage, my family, and my fellowman. These namesakes have molded me, melted me, and this week moved me from complacency to urgency of word and deed. In this heart, in this home, Floyd will be honored, fought for, and never, ever forgotten.