Today’s inauguration has me feeling all sorts of things, things that other authors have summed up far more eloquently than I will try to. All day long, I have been alternately inspired and alarmed by things shared by my friends and family members on both sides of the political spectrum. There is hate flying on all sides, emboldened by the ability to hide behind a keyboard and screen.
As I sit here tonight, mourning and hoping and praying, I have been convicted. I could write all night about all of the negative repercussions of this election. I could spend the rest of my days spewing facts and quotes at people who aren’t going to change their mind, and arguing with people who aren’t going to change mine.
That’s not what I want to be known for, though. Sure, I would like people to know that I don’t support this presidency, but much more than that, I want people to know that I DO support them.
I want to be known for being a safe place for those of you who feel displaced and unheard in light of this election. For being the person who will hold your secrets, who will love you not in spite of who you are but because of who you are, and who will sit with you in the pit when words are not enough.
I want to be known for opening the doors of this precious home, dishing out hot soup and crusty bread, filling every inch of our house with those we love. For forcing you to have seconds, take home leftovers, stay for a cup of coffee, spend the night if you want. I want this home to be a safe haven, in every sense of the word.
I want to be known for kindness, for treating strangers with respect and smiling at the cashier at Meijer even when she is moving slowly. For hard work filled with empathy and honesty; for a welcoming spirit. For love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. And self-control, even though that one is the hardest of them all.
Most of all, I want to be known for striving to be more like Christ in everything I do. I want to be known for crossing party lines, subverting cultural norms, and welcoming “the least of these.” I want to love you like Jesus does, regardless of who you voted for or what we agree on.
I want to be known for my love. May no one describe me by saying “she really doesn’t like [Trump/Southern Gospel music/Amy Schumer/mushrooms],” before they say, “she really loves [Jesus/people/making soup for people/dogs].” May my open arms and open door speak more loudly than my ringing words. May I never add darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
[thanks to my youngest sister-in-law, virginia, for calling me out, convicting me, and inspiring this blog post. love ya, gin. even when we don’t agree and you school me on how to love Jesus better.]