Community Crisis response

It has been less than a week since ICE agents murdered Alex Pretti as he bravely stepped in to protect women from the now familiar sight of violence by the hands of our Federal Government. 

Like everyone here in the Twin Cities, my heart soared with hope on Friday as our streets filled with people proclaiming loudly that we cherish our neighbors. We celebrate the fabric of our state, woven together by diverse stories of arrival and always being here, with a multitude of languages, religions, and ways to be family. That we want the Federal Government to stop trying to destroy the very thing we hold dear. 

Then once again, our collective hearts were shattered as another neighbor was shot and killed on our streets.

This morning, I decided to stop by the memorial for Alex Pretti after dropping my son off at school. I did not plan to visit it in my pajama pants and short coat, but my heart pulled and I followed. I shivered as I walked to the mound of flowers and candles and art, a stunning collection of grief and prayer. 

As I read different notes, the cold obvious in how I stood, an elder Somali woman approached me with several plastic bags in her hands. From one of them, she pulled out a black and white scarf and gently wrapped it around my neck. I was confused at first and asked her,

“Is this a gift?”

“Yes, gift,” she replied.

My eyes welled with tears, and I grabbed her thin hands and squeezed them as tight as I could. The warmth from the scarf and the warmth in her hands covered me in a comfort I didn’t realize I was missing until right then.

As I drove home, I couldn’t help but think about the beautiful circle of mutual aid. I’ve seen it every day where I work at Park Avenue UMC in Minneapolis, one block from where Renee Good was murdered and where we witnessed ICE violence directly on our doorstep. 

I see our staff caring for our neighbors and congregants by opening our church doors for community healing, organizing food and safety and care. 

I see our congregants care for our staff; soup in the freezer to help with the extra work everyone is putting in, and volunteers organizing what we don’t have capacity for. 

I see our neighbors helping us, monitoring our parking lots, and teaching us new ways to care for others that we haven’t learned yet. 

I see the broader community here in Minnesota, with mental health professionals gifting their services because of the horrors we’ve witnessed on the streets by our church. 

I see the rest of the United States helping through the outpouring of their money and encouraging words. 

And I see the rest of the world. Donations and protests and journalists from over 4,000 miles away, visiting Park Avenue Church so that our stories can be heard.

What we are seeing at Park, in this neighborhood, in this city, in this state, in this country, and in this world, is a reflection of what some one call living in Shalom. People are giving what they have, showing up when they are needed, and receiving grace and support when the burdens are too much. People are risking their lives for those they have never met, delivering groceries and walking dogs right here in this beautiful community, so that we can face the day with more hope than the last.

Today, I was on the receiving end of grace in human form. A woman showed up for me, despite the hateful rhetoric that continues from our government towards people like her, even though I am not the one targeted by ICE, even though we don’t speak the same language, and even though we are of different religions. 

She wrapped a warm scarf around my trembling neck and gave me hope, comfort, care, and grace by becoming God’s Love to me.

With Hope,

Whitney Carlson

Park Ave UMC Communications Director