This election has me terrified, deep down. There is a knot of anxiety deep in my chest that will not loosen tomorrow, even if my candidate proves victorious. The other day, I read an article in Time magazine about a family of Syrian refugees that relocated to Iowa. One particular point struck me dumb. The family had been middle-class in Syria, attending choir concerts and planning family vacations. Within months, civil war destroyed their peaceful, humdrum existence, and they were displaced people, struggling to find a safe home. A common story, I know. Reading those words, days before the end of the most divisive and hateful presidential campaign in my lifetime, gave me pause. I had a waking daydream, of the fabric of our country torn apart by hate, by people who refuse to accept a peaceful transition of power, by people driven to desperation by the loss of their privilege and power. I had a waking daydream of civil war, the kind that certain militia groups threaten if their candidate doesn’t win. Drinking my Sunday morning coffee in my middle-class house in my middle-class town, it almost seemed possible. And I was terrified.
My friends who happen to be married to people of the same gender, are terrified by more than just a waking daydream. They are terrified by threats to rent their very families, so newly formed under the law, to invalidate their newly validated unions, and nullify their spousal benefits. I am afraid that the health-care act that helped my family find affordable coverage for their child will disappear. I am afraid that our country will no longer work towards justice for all--all skin colors, all genders, all sexual orientations. I am afraid that hatred and racism will win. It breaks my heart that the biggest comfort I can find is to think, “It will be OK; the President doesn’t really have that much power, anyway.”
I cast my vote for the candidate who reflects my politics. I’m proud to vote for the first woman President. I won’t apologize for supporting her, or make excuses for her. She is my choice. Many of my friends and family disagree with me and I don’t begrudge them their vote. We all have our reasons and we all make our choice. As I say often, just because I have a strong opinion about something doesn’t mean I have to win. I say it often, but I’m not usually this scared by the thought of losing.
My friend, Bill, reassures me on Facebook that all will be OK. Bill, the consummate fiscal conservative, is my go-to guy for silver linings. I joke that he is the most optimistic Republican I’ve ever met. Bill tells me that, no matter who wins, he or she will be our President, that it will only be four years, and that we will work together to continue to build a country with freedom and justice for all. I can only pray that he is right.
I can only pray that we can all find common ground again, that we all honor the government that allows for disagreement and free speech, that we work together to build up what has been broken in the last months. I can only pray…
Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges: guide the people of the United States in the election of officials and representatives, that, by faithful administration and wise laws, the rights of all may be protected and our nation be enabled to fulfill your purposes; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Âmen
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