I will admit that I had some choice words for America when I awoke to the results this morning.
My children did, too, as neither of the candidates they voted for at school took the election.
It was an impossible choice, really. On one hand, we had the embodiment of everything that is wrong with politics, and on the other, the epitome of everything that is wrong with us as a people.
And so today, I grieve with and pray for our country. Because, although someone did win the election, there are no winners here.
I think statistics are so interesting, because they tell a story.
Not always the story we'd like to hear, however. Not the details as we ideally wish they were.
But rather, the way things are.
And in this case, the white, heterosexual, rural-residing, self-identified Evangelical, non-college-educated majority has spoken. I know our form of government is deeply flawed, but no longer can we deny the fact that it's those with privilege who get to decide the fate of our country.
My hope is that in our own little corner of the country, we can start writing a different narrative.
May we remember that we are the UNITED States of America and get back to the hard work of loving one another today. Especially those who are different than us. Especially those who are marginalized and oppressed, backed into a corner without a voice.
Because where there is a lack of unity, there is often a lack of humility. Pride and love cannot coexist, so choose wisely.
May we rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. It's so hard to rejoice with others when you're the one in mourning, but do it anyway.
May we be kind, always.
May we remember that the change we wish to see doesn't begin in the Oval Office, but it starts with you and me.
And so today, I'm going to snuggle with my daughter on the couch. I'm going to enjoy my kiddos and laugh with them when they get home from school. I'll go to church and worship a God who wasn't caught off guard, a God who is still on the throne, and a God still worthy to be praised.
I'll text my black friends and my gay friends and remind them that regardless of who gets to decide the fate of this country, they can never decide the worth of their souls. That they are still wanted, welcome, and loved. I'll hug my refugee friends, because love is a universal language which requires no translator.
Love well today, friends. Especially when it's hard, because that's precisely when the world needs it the most.
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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!