This week we voted and elected a president.
I went the entire Election Tuesday without an “I voted” sticker because I cast my absentee ballot weeks ago. I updated my Twitter to send me updates from the NPR Politics Twitter feed because I wanted to stay updated on election results. I went to a basketball game, and I kept getting updates. After the basketball game, my roommates and I went to the monthly worship service held on my Christian university campus. Throughout the service, I resisted looking at my phone, but I kept getting updates. I could see a little bit of my phone screen peeking out of my purse.
The worship service was winding down, and we were preparing to receive communion. We always sing the same song every time we receive communion at these monthly worship services.
We began singing, “Christ has died, Christ has risen…”
My phone lit up with the update that we just re-elected Obama as President of the United States.
“…Christ will come again.”
Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again. The very words summing up my beliefs.
I logged on Facebook and some people were rejoicing at the election results, others were declaring it was the end of the world. I shrug and shake my head. I prayed. I whispered the words:
“Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.”
This morning I met with one of my professors. I walked in his room, he handed me a pumpkin bagel. I didn’t even get through smearing cream cheese on before I started crying. My eye skin is still raw, even nine hours later. He asked me questions I knew he would. Questions I didn’t even know how to answer. Questions like, “What are you doing to care for you?” and others. He let me cry. He let me be honest.
“I think I am angry,” I told him. He responded by saying that he didn’t see the anger, but he saw the hurt. “Yeah, I am hurt.”
My roommate told me: “It’s good to have people care about you in your life to the point where they may push you to tears.”