Today I give thanks for the life of Renee Nicole Good, who was murdered by an ICE agent in Minneapolis on 7 January. She was 37.
I didn’t know her at all, and I probably wouldn’t have
except for the circumstances of her death. She described herself online as a
poet, writer, wife and mother; others have described her as loving,
compassionate and kind. Her wife, Rebecca, said, “Renee was made of sunshine.”
The Presbyterian Church of the USA (not the branch with a poker up its butt)
issued this statement,
which—among other things—mentions her mission work in Northern Ireland.
But I’ve been thinking a lot about Good in the two weeks
since her murder; I can’t get the images of the glovebox in her car overflowing
with stuffed animals and her open, smiling face instants before she was shot
out of my mind. As her killer circled her car and then transferred his mobile
phone (which was recording) from his right hand to his left so he could draw
his weapon and fire three shots at her, she smiled and said, “That’s all right,
dude. I’m not mad at you.”
Here’s what I absolutely know about Renee Good: she created more love, kindness and joy in her 37 years than the withered, aggrieved husk in the Oval Office has at more than twice that age. And I know that she is the exemplar I need to follow, starting with this gratitude.
©2026 Bas Bleu
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