Election Tuesday
There is something special about waking up early. There is a deep feeling of connectedness associated with being outside as the sun yawns its first breaths and the still crispness of the night air is whisked away by the soft early morning wind. But today I was awakened to an uneasy feeling. The building nervousness in my stomach, like the clouds that gathered outside my window, seemed ominous of a dark day to come. With shaking hands I turned on the news, which had been reporting throughout the night as I slept, on a brewing storm of quite another kind far away from my home.
3,000 miles away, a storm threatened to sweep away the dreams of a hope-starved people who were peering out into the darkness for a glimmer of light. Those who spent so many years drowning in the rough seas of greed and selfishness, in a nation designed to capitalize on their hard work to preserve the security and comfort of a privileged few, had been called to unite behind a common purpose. And just as the storm poised itself to blow away the dreams of a people who had gathered for the good of the nation, hope arrived in the form of words; words which contained the power to lead a country out of turmoil. These words, such as “hope” and “change” have presented themselves on this historic election day to lead the country into the future. These words have power to engage a distinctly human piece of the American mentality. They will lead us upward as well as forward into a time of healing.
In short, these words represent the best about what makes us America. They are the last vestige of a dying brand of Americanism that refuses to be put down. They remind us that the word change is not merely an empty vessel but a call to fill it with the work that brings the fulfillment of their prophecy. Words of hope are powerful because they contain the single greatest thing that a leader can impart to his people: Inspiration to reach farther than one’s self to become part of something greater than a single person (or party) ever could be.
So this is what we have.
We have a grey sky, we have clouds sitting low on the horizon filled with rain. We have wind cutting through sweaters making skin cool to the touch. We have cans of soup being opened up for the first time in months, almost seasonally. We have pumpkin flavored lattes being sipped from cool metal chairs outside Starbucks’. Parts of the country have sun, others have snow – somehow southern California managed to squeeze some tears from its eyes today. But despite the droplets running down the windows at the office there is something in the air that has kept voices hushed, kept thoughts in queue; something that has been holding breath itself captive.
Hope.
There is hope in the swirling winds. There is hope in the sheets of mist that’s falling from the clouds and in the sun cleverly peeking from behind them. There is hope in the quiet that has taken hold of every office, of every home. There is an intangible substance that has replaced office chatter, something that has turned cell phone conversations from megaphone outpourings of information that no one within earshot wants to hear to serious, hushed snippets of their former selves.
And within all the still lingering confusion of which individual will command the nation that we call home the best, there is an energy that woke me hours before my alarm went off. It’s hope. Hope that tomorrow will be the start of something new, something special. Something worth hoping for.
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