Purifying Snow

It never snows in central North Carolina. In the rare event when it does, it never snows more than 2 inches.

I grew up here.

I’ve spent nearly thirty years here.

Believe me when I say, it never snows here.

That said, last weekend we got 8 inches.

And it was last weekend I was slated to have my big release party for my new book.

I’d put two months into planning the event. Spent money I didn’t have.

I was expecting upwards of 400 people. Was hoping for at least 400 book sales.

But the blizzard had other ideas.

And while a nice crowd of around 75 people braved the conditions to come out and support me— and while I am profoundly grateful for their support— it was not the epic release party I’d been hoping for.

Truth be told, I was bummed about it. Real bummed.

But then, Monday morning, I remembered there was a much bigger event happening in central North Carolina, one that makes my little book seem puny in comparison:

Monday was the grand opening of the International Civil Rights Museum in Greensboro, NC.

You see, Greensboro is the home of the Woolworth’s store where the now famous Greensboro Four staged their revolutionary sit in. These four heroic young men— men who believed in honesty and integrity and equality, men who decided they would no longer accept the racist staus quo— walked into Woolworth’s and sat down at a segregated lunch counter… in a restaurant where only whites were allowed to sit.

Though they were not served that day, these four NC A&T students were allowed to remain sitting. And then the next day, 27 more students showed up to do the same. Within 4 days, 300 black students were participating in this peaceful protest.

This now famous moment helped catalyze the Civil Rights Movement, and this week, despite the epic blizzard that hit central NC, the International Civil Rights Museum opened its doors.

My heart often swells with pride at how far our nation has come, but then I grow sad at the thought that I am a member of a race that spent so many years holding its brothers and sisters back.

There is no excuse for the way we whites have treated blacks throughout the history of the United States. And to say that racism doesn’t still exist is both short sighted and wishful thinking.

But we have come a long way. There’s no denying that.

When the Greensboro News & Record ran a piece two weekends ago on the Greensboro Four and their heroic protest, I was reminded at how, though our history is certainly spotted, there is an undeniable capacity for love and empathy and understanding in our human spirits.

You see, the article ended by quoting Franklin McCain, one of the famous four, speaking of an elderly white woman who happened to be in Woolworth’s on that fateful first day of the sit-ins.

“I don’t know of anyone who made a bigger impression on me… perhaps in my lifetime,” McCain says of the woman, “She told me she was proud of me— and then asked what took so long.”

McCain then went on to finish: “That little old lady taught me a lesson for life— don’t you ever feel prejudice toward somebody because of race, station in life, or where they come from… I can see that little old lady right now. She won’t go away.”

Might that serve as a lesson for all of us.

The Bible say that God’s love makes our sins as white as snow.

Perhaps this is why He sent that epic blizzard to central North Carolina this weekend: His love was purifying the monument that now stands in tribute of a courageous people who rallied to overcome the most sinful stain in our nation’s history.

I, for one, welcome this purification.

Even if it did cost me some book sales.

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