I voted in 2016

Two days ago, in church, Josh tapped my elbow.  He whispered in my ear,

"He's singing."

I looked past him, trying not to be seen by my eldest son.  Sure enough, there he was, holding a piece of paper with the lyrics to the songs we sang as a congregation.  He was standing, leaning against the chairs in front of him, his auburn hair brushing across his forehead, his freckles dotting his nose that angled toward the words, and his lips were subtly moving.

Jonathan does not sing.  Jonathan does not stand up in church.  Well actually, Jonathan did not sing and he used to never stand in church.  It is something that has irked me slightly, this inability of mine as his mother to help inspire in him a desire to worship, to participate, to feel the passion in the words we sing.  Nonetheless, I have tried to let him just be him.  I have stood next to him as he sat, sprawled, or slumped in the rows of chairs.  Suddenly there he is, joining in to the voices, singing of his own accord.

I smiled, eased back into my spot, and sang with my heart full, so grateful for my son's ability to set aside his discomfort and give this a go.

Today we went to the polls as a family.  Frost topped the grass and we watched our breath as we piled into the car and huddled into our coats and sweatshirts.  I felt anxious as we approached the little church where we have been voting for various races over the past five years, not knowing exactly where I lean this year and wondering if I would feel proud of any result.

Then I thought of Jonathan singing in church.  I thought of the courage it took for him to stand up in a sea of legs and hips that become a forest around him, to stand up and then sing at that.  I thought of all of the thousands of minutes when he sat in that church and wished he was anywhere else, and now here he was standing up and taking part.

Perhaps it is in the walking into the polls, in the taking that last breath before casting the ballot, in the moment of deciding what is it that I believe in, what is it that I cherish, and then proclaiming it for myself in the quiet that comes from being surrounded by people doing the same.  There is something so powerful about standing in those cloistered ballot spaces, knowing there are people in front of and behind you making these choices and helping by increments to build the leadership of our country.

We sponsor a child in Uganda and he and I write to each other occasionally.  I told him in our last correspondence that we are going to vote for a new president and that I was not very excited about either candidate.  He responded that he was grateful to vote for his new president as well, and grateful for the lack of bloodshed this time.

That got me.  This boy who is half my age expressing gratitude for the great gift of voting and for the blessing of no bloodshed.  I realized then that I have so much to celebrate.  I am raising a son who can worship without prosecution and who can follow his parents into a polling place and walk out to the smiling faces of women handing him an "I voted" sticker.  We went to Krispy Kreme and watched the doughnuts be drizzled with sugary glaze and rock down the conveyor.  I ate my free "I voted" doughnut with my bright eyed boys and I felt satisfied that we had this moment as a family, to go to the polls and talk about why America is great.

That is what Jonathan asked me this morning.  He didn't ask who I voted for.  He said,

"Mom why does America win everything? Why do we win everything in the Olympics?"

I am sure there are one hundred answers to this question, and that some of them are cynical, but this was mine:

"America was built to take care of its people.  Some countries are built to take care of their king or their dictator, but we were built to take care of our people.  When you take care of your people, they are healthy.  When people are healthy they are better athletes."

This satisfied my inquisitive eight year old, and he stared out the window for a moment in contemplation.  I added that we have a lot of money, and that helps us with fancy pools and nice sneakers and good coaches, but I do believe what I told him about why we thrive.

There was a moment today when I doubted this.  I wanted to blame someone for the candidate list.  I wanted to go home and not vote.  Then I thought about what I believe America to be, what I want America to be, and I realized I don't have to have faith in what America is, but I have to take pride in what I believe America has always striven to be.  Let there never come a day when I refuse to vote because I can't find a perfect option, for there have been too many who did shed blood so that I could stand up in the forest of others doing the same, and quietly cast my voice into the chorus of those around me.