Survivng Police Violence on Mother's Day

The Iron Grip of Police Brutality, David Horsey

Something some of y'all may not know about me is that my father was killed by the police in my hometown.

That was in 2009 and I still have nightmares about the police on occasion. It happened to me again this morning. It was overwhelming. I don't pretend like I live with it well, but I've been living with this since I was 19 years old. The only thing that has changed is I am more patient and kind to myself when it overwhelms me.

I've also learned that the Lord will be with me in those moments, which I saw again this morning. As I was somewhere between sleep and consciousness, I began singing How Firm a Foundation in my head. It has been my comfort hymn for a long time. I woke up with the words still fresh in my mind, reciting them to myself on repeat as I got ready for church.

I ended up sitting down in front of my mother's mirror and staring at my reflection for a while. The person I've become looks so much stronger and calmer than I feel in moments like these. I sat there thinking about the journey to now and so many of the things that have happened to me along the way.

My father didn't deserve to be hunted to death like an animal by the police. I don't know that anyone does. And if there is someone for whom that is truly necessary, no one gets there without being profoundly failed and betrayed by society many times over before that.

That's how I feel. That's what's written as the epitaph on the headstone of my father in my mind. And I ended up at that headstone on Mother's Day against my choosing. Possibly because the issues I have with my mother are even more painful at the moment.

It took a lot of mental effort to get myself off the floor and into the car to go to church. Experience has taught me that asking nicely is the best way. I sang How Firm a Foundation the whole way there.

I needed the sacrament. I needed the speakers who spoke. One of them observed that the last thing Jesus did before he died was to make sure he took care of his mother before he died. The Atonement wasn't finished until she was cared for. And it was in that moment that I considered that Jesus died from police violence. He understands what I carry, as does Mary of Bethlehem and so many of the other women from that earliest generation of Saints.

I needed Relief Society. I needed to be surrounded by women who have survived and overcome so much. I needed the reminder that none of us are alone in anything we face when we have God and each other.

The lesson was on becoming spiritually whole while we wait for spiritual healing, as taught by Camille Johnson in general conference. This is what it means to be a disciple. I found that wholeness today when I needed it because I went to church.

I don't like Mother's Day or Father's Day because my family is the reason I need so much healing. I went today anyway because I needed my Savior. And the feeling that was impressed so firmly upon my soul is that the Church is my family. That's who I can celebrate during days like these. I have more family than I know what to do with and they care about me. That's who I can celebrate on Mother's Day and Father's Day.