[WARNING! The following is a heavily political post… infused, ideally, with sprinklings of Spirit at some point along the way. Proceed at your own risk.]

I saw the handwriting on the wall long before going to bed Tuesday night. The reporting carried the same air of dread and foreboding I felt on Election Night 2016.

Somehow, I knew. We were going to do it again.

Somehow, despite everything we learned during the FIRST four years of a Donald Trump presidency, we – as a nation – were about to step right back into the same bear trap. 

On purpose. 

Despite watching the deaths of thousands of innocent people due to a grossly mishandled pandemic… despite seeing young immigrant children ripped from their parents’ arms and held in cages at the border… despite hearing dozens of blatant lies spew out of the White House every day… despite watching our most cherished relationships with international allies trampled under the heavy boot of hubris… despite our ringside seat at an attempt to violently overthrow the U.S. government… despite seeing an independent judge and jury pronounce “GUILTY!” 34 times over this man in a courtroom… despite multiple, credible charges of sexual assault against this failed business tycoon… despite the legions of reasonable people who fled his administration screaming in terror…

Despite all of this and MORE, this country has calmly turned its head and whimpered, “Thank you, sir. May I please have another?”

I quickly went from horror to shock to disbelief to physical illness. “What in God’s name is wrong with this country?” was the place I finally landed. “For a lower price of eggs we are going to throw away FREEDOMS? HUMAN LIVES? DIGNITY? INTERNATIONAL STANDING?”

How is it possible that we are more fearful of putting a woman into the highest office in the land than of handing the keys to the kingdom to a CRIMINAL CON MAN? This is national misogyny at its deadliest and worst.

As you can tell, my last two days have been filled with a whole lot of weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Maybe yours, too.

At this point, however, I don’t know how much Monday morning quarterbacking (or in this case, Wednesday morning quarterbacking) is useful. Sure, I would love to know why Kamala lost. I would love to know why Black, Latino, and young white men turned out for Trump in record numbers. I am deeply curious about how much influence pissed-off progressives had over this outcome. I have absolutely ZERO idea why Kamala did not carry ONE SINGLE so-called blue wall state. I would love to hear people much smarter than me explain what this outcome reveals about the soul of this nation.

None of those answers, however, will help get me off the couch and into the fray. 

If I decide – based on the outcome of this election – that this country no longer stands for the things I thought it stood for, I clearly have two choices. I can leave and adopt some other nation as my home. Or I can stay here and work to rekindle the spirit that once made this nation the “shining beacon on the hill” we understood it to be. Option #3 – sit on my fat ass, do nothing; while watching Trump and his billionaire, fascist cronies burn the thing to the ground – is not really an option at all.

So how do I start? What do I do? Where do I find the colleagues to align with? How do I keep my spirit strong, refusing to give in to the temptation to wallow in self-pity?

I think I start by consulting the wisdom of the ancients. I think I begin by remembering that mine is not the first nation to wander from its ordained path and to then suffer the natural consequences. I think I open the Bible to the book of Lamentations, the third chapter, and read these words, written by the Jewish faithful while they were held in a state of exile in Babylon for 70 years: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22-23, NRSV). 

I also must remember that I am not blameless in my country’s decision to believe it can only find security under the leadership of a demagogue. And so let me travel a little deeper into Chapter three to the 40^th verse and wince while I listen to the exiles saying, “Let us examine our ways, and return to the Lord. Let us lift up our hearts as well as our hands to God in heaven.” (Lamentations 3:40-41, NRSV.) 

I think I also have to let these voices remind me that sometimes evil (yes… I said evil) takes the upper hand for a while. I think I must also strive to remember that this state of exile sometimes lasts longer than a lifetime. And then I think I turn back again to this ancient book of laments again and hear this assurance from those same exiles: “‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’” (Lamentations 3:24, NRSVU). 

ONLY when I have anchored my current distress in the wide, and deep, and broad sweep of history can I find the strength to pull myself back up off the floor and begin the work of restoration…

… whatever that might look like.

Abundant blessings;