Trying To Find My Voice…

The wedding was a good excuse.
Last weekend was spent with good friends.
Celebrating the marriage of their daughter.
A young woman I have known from the day she was born.
We celebrated love and commitment.
And a friendship sustained over the years.
And for their sake and ours
Held tight to promises made for a tomorrow we cannot yet see.
For a moment, I could step away from it all.

But then it was back home.
Back to work.
Back to the news.
And back to the anxiousness and anxiety and anger many neighbors continue to feel in light of the election.
I listen the best I can.
I grope my way forward the best I can.
I am an older white guy and so I can bide my time.
Hold my breath to see what happens.
Give the new President-elect a chance.
But others, don’t have that luxury.
That privilege.
A highly skilled and very motivated Latina college student called her mentor in tears, hardly able to do her work, because she is so afraid of what might happen to friends and neighbors. A gifted colleague, African-American, who grew up in this community writes that she is afraid in a way she has never been before. A few high school students were intimidated when they got to school. Others sit at their desk doing their best to pay attention, but finding it difficult because of the anxiousness in the air around them.

In my profession, words matter.
Because I believe in the importance and the power of words I can’t forget or discount the words that have been spoken. If I gave in to the response “But, he didn’t mean it.” then I would also diminish the hope and challenge that have been a part of the words I have spoken. If I give into that, I give up on myself.

So, in those ways I am able, I will do my best to speak up.
And to find my voice.
And to have my life follow where my prayers first lead.