Self-Reflection Sundays: Who Did I Vote For?

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My husband's coworker had been advertising that she has a few lawn signs and bumper stickers of a particular president/vice president candidate for people that wanted them. I thought about getting one but the thought was quickly redirected. Honestly, I felt that publicizing my loyalty to this candidate was somehow going to welcome trouble. Isn't that crazy? Land of the free, home of the brave...It might have been a stretch to think that showing support of a candidate would make us targets for hate. But that was the thought I had, so I ended up not being brave enough to want to display the sign or bumper sticker; the other's supporters might see it as a welcome sign for hate. 

That's what the world has become, a welcome sign for hate!

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Earlier this past week, I was driving and I noticed that the cars in front of me were not moving but instead were letting drivers come out of an intersection. They kept letting them go and letting them go. I finally realized it was a parade for the other candidate's supporters. Their banners and flags just screamed "hate" for some reason. The cars in front of me were finally able to move forward. I started driving and more parade participants started coming out again, turning right in front of me. I let one car go because it was too far into the street, but then I proceeded to take my right-of-way when a truck decided he was going to come out and keep up with the parade whether he hit me or not in the process. This is what the world has become. My life wasn't worth more than the need for the truck driver to continue driving around telling us he supported a candidate who hated us. This is what the world has come to.

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The other night, my husband came home from the store and said that a house in the neighborhood was having a party, all for the other candidate. There were flags and banners and it honestly made me relieved that they, in fact, would NOT see a lawn sign in opposition to them in front of our house after all.

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The other day, I went to the nearest ballot drop-off site. I stood their for a moment, really considering my ancestors and all that they went through, ALL THAT THEY WENT THROUGH, for me to experience this moment. In a world where just in order to make sure my vote really counted, I had to take heed to all of the advice in making sure that I read all directions carefully, handled the ballot carefully, not a bend, not a stray mark, turned in as early as possible to not give any reason for it to not be counted; in a world where the drop-off site has to be monitored 24-7 to make sure nothing is tampered with. There I stood, basking in the moment. Not that it didn't matter before but something about this time. The message can't be any clearer...



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