I was assaulted on Marta last night on the way home from the Braves game.  That's all I can think about since it happened.  I had a great time tagging up with my brother and having dinner at my favorite restaurant.  I got to watch my Mom's choir sing at Turner Stadium, what a privilege.  I got to go to a Braves game with my Dad and not have a single argument or even a cross word.  I got to see the Braves win a game.  I am pretty sure I have never seen the Braves win a game.  I got home in no time as a result of public transit and a jump up 400 with no one on it.  I used my brights on 400 because there was no one on it.  Yet, my strongest memory is a notion of violence that occurred when the game was over and getting onto Marta.  

There were lots of people trying to get home from the game.  We were squished into a bus like sardines.  It was not a long ride though, and the people were nice enough.  Then as we entered the train station, the security guards put pressure for everyone to get on the train.  Unfortunately, there were people that needed to get off the train first.  The doors open and close so quickly, if you are not paying attention you can miss your stop.  The crowd rushed the Marta train car.  Those inside came out with attitude and violence.  They pushed and hurt those crowding the door.  It was more than one man who slammed into several women.  The look on their face was of uncontrolled wrath.  I felt really bad for those women who were knocked around.  

As I got onto the train, the violent act rippled. 

One of the women who had gotten hurt was yelling at the top of her lungs, "I am so sorry that I am white and trying to use Marta.  The very idea that a white American would use Marta is too much.  I am so sorry, I am white."  

She was sitting with a young man who was totally embarrassed by her behavior.  She was throwing in the f-word every other word in the sentence.  There were so many people in the train car, including a three year old across the  aisle from her which she couldn't see due to people standing in her line of site and a young black man sitting in spitting distance of her just not saying a word.  This woman was obese, had pink and black hair, piercings and tattoos.  She wore her anger toward the world like an insulation blanket.  And was screaming over and over, "I know you want me to f-ing shut up, but I am just f-ing apologizing for being f-ing white, okay? I f-ing apologize." 

At one point she was shaking (white) people's hands apologizing to the ones she could reach.  

She was assaulting my ears.  The violence rippled.  

I became thoroughly aggravated by this woman.  At one point made a rude comment to my brother who just looked at me.  So now the actions of one violent person (shoving) led to another action (violent language, loudly) to me passing it to my brother (rude comment).  Violence, begats violence, begats more violence.  

On my way home, I thought of something that might have stopped that woman in her tracks.  Although, I don't know that I could say it with enough sincerity at the time, for her not to throttle me for misinterpretation of sarcasm.  If I could say it with all due sincerity and humility, I would say: 

There is enough love in this area of the train car for me to tell you, that we are sorry you feel hurt by the men who violated you.  We know what it is like to be hurt.  We know what it is like to experience violence and racism.  It is a powerful abuse to another human being.  We are here today to let you know that we hear your pain, we acknowledge you pain and that we are going to love you back to a place of a healed wound.  We will love you until you can love yourself.  Believe me when I say, you never have to apologize for who you are.  You are a beautiful, I know you won't believe it, but you are a beautiful child of God and are worthy of His love.  Those of us standing around you see, feel, hear your hurt and are going to extend our love to you.  

God, please cradle this woman in your arms that she may find your love and can find it within herself to love herself.  

The ripples of violence stop with me.  The ripples of violence stop through love. 

Have you told someone you love them today?