Giving a voice to the hopeful
It’s shameful.
But I must admit that for way too many years, I didn’t care about any of it.
I supported my own causes.
I made a grassroots effort to clothe single mothers and children and stock food pantries.
At this moment in my life, it is embarrassing to admit the fact that I never looked too far past
my own nose.
I fell in love with hope.
I embraced a more global view of the world.
I paid attention to the opinions of those around me.
And quite frequently, I stood my ground on the opposite end of those opinions.
Several days in a row, I passed the Johnson County courthouse and cried when I saw people waiting in long lines to vote.
“Look how much they care,” I whispered.
I finally find myself caring too, all the way to my toes.
A wonderful warmth filled my chest.
A pride in my country and a passion for this election moved into my daily routine.
I started thinking about why I couldn’t just ignore this campaign, as I have ignored so many others.
This time it’s so very personal.
This time, I’ve got my own personal bruises.
In the last eight years, I comforted friends who lost their homes and jobs and dreams.
I wrote about young soldiers and their families.
I wept at Ground Zero, lost friends who didn’t have adequate health care, and worried about my family’s financial future.
I have listened to many disenchanted young people talk about useless college degrees, piles of loans to pay back and no stability.
I too have sacrificed things I love, because life feels too fragile and unsteady to follow my heart.
Again and again, I have noticed that the core of our country is harder for many to find.
I want to dream about the America of tomorrow, where all people unite.
I want to know that our country won’t only tolerate diversity but celebrate it.
I want all of us to rally, to reach out, and lift each other up.
This country, as we all know, is definitely in crisis.
From every corner of our nation, fear brews about our future.
During the campaign process, I heard racial slurs directed toward Senator Obama.
I heard obnoxious, uneducated and ill-informed comments that literally turned my stomach.
Many of those times, I turned my back in silence.
I was not sure I could check my emotions at the door.
I forced myself to walk away, convinced that some forms of ignorance just don’t have ears for change.
Those mouths are a symbol of yesterday’s America.
Those mouths embody the poisons of prejudice and bigotry.
They don’t speak for me or any of the other millions of Americans who want to believe.
We will move en masse, all of us….. toward a stronger, more united America.
And we will reach out in kindness to those who fear change. We will sprinkle them with hope for tomorrow.
