I Love My Colorful Facebook Feed

I love my colorful Facebook feed

I love Facebook. I really do. I love scrolling through and seeing the faces, reading the stories, hearing the prayer requests, rejoicing in the victories.

I love my Facebook feed because it is full of color. I love colors. I love them all. Purple is my favorite, but I have yet to have a purple friend. Purple-haired friend, yes, I got that. But my feed is full of color.

I have friends of every shade. My feed is full of smiling folks: white folks, Asian folks, African American folks, Indian folks. I’ve got a host of bi-racial couples, white couples with adopted African-American kiddos, or Ethiopian kids, or Jamaican, or Chinese, or Guatemalan. I have families that have all kinds of shades of skin around their dining room table.

I don’t see the color of their skin. I see their smiles. Or their tears. I see their eyes. I see their love. Or their pain. I pray for them equally, not based on their skin color. It never crossed my mind. Or my heart. And it never will.

I don’t understand racism. While that may sound naive, I really don’t. What difference does the outside shade make? When, really, it is the color of the heart that matters. There is kindness and generosity and compassion everywhere. There is hate and violence and crazy everywhere too, yes. But there is love in every color and culture.

I have missionary friends in the Middle East, in South Africa, in Haiti, in Mexico, in Turkey. They aren’t there because the American white has the answer to fix other cultures and people of every color. They are there because it doesn’t matter the skin color or hair color or style of dress; all deserve love and mercy.

I love my colorful Facebook feed. I scroll through it often. I smile and clap my hands, I furrow my brow and clutch my heart, I feel and care for those that have made their way across my path regardless of how long they have been there, how deeply we have been connected; the color of their skin is insignificant.

I wonder if we just continued to love and not give so much voice to the crazies if they could be overrun, or dare we hope, silenced. It seems to me that there are a few ugly voices that seem very loud and their words get broadcast. But there are so so many that simply befriend, and reach out, and live in kindness, and love quietly and steadily. Those are the voices I wish were heard loudly. Those are the ones that should resonate.

And they do in my world. My lovely colorful world.

Pat Meyers



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