A child I love was told that our future leader hates him because he is a “retard.”
A child I love wept because she’s frightened that her president will send her Daddy to Mexico.
A woman I love woke up to read slurs thrown at her children of color by people with twitter handles like “Trump Won” and “White Culture Daily.”
Yesterday I saw uncertainty and rejoicing, fear and relief, ugliness and beauty, understanding and rejection. I tried to understand. I read. I listened. I patted little backs and looked into anxious little eyes.
Yesterday I had no words. Today I found some.
They aren’t my own but they will do. If there’s one thing I can say about Fred Rogers, it’s that he knows words– he has the best words. He might not be here today but I sure wish he was and I’m thankful he left a legacy of words that bring me comfort in confusing times. I don’t feel big enough or wise enough to write about this election. I am not equipped to see the future. I may be just a drop of water in a bucket marked America but I can love my neighbor and my God and I can listen and then listen some more. To listen is to love. We are in this bucket together.