November 9, 2016

“‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts,” (Isaiah 55:8-9, NIV).

I’m in physical pain as I write this.

My stomach hurts (I think I made a comment last night while watching live election coverage that “my insides had liquefied”). My chest and shoulders are tight, my eyes are swollen and red.

Where do I even start?

I knew the results before I went to bed last night, yet still I held onto hope. I had been watching the fivethirtyeight.com live poll predictions for hours, refreshing every thirty seconds and praying over the Politico state-by-state ratios. The blue and red bars seemed to go up and down with my heart. With a sharp pang of utter disappointment, I knew at 11 pm when Florida turned red that it was finished.

Still I prayed. I went to bed praying with tears in my eyes, God, your will be done. Never before in my life have I felt so strongly about anything political, but here I was begging. I was desperate. I was on my knees.

Then, this morning, I learned the outcome. I am proud to say that I live in a state that fought for Hillary until the bitter end. Sadly, it was just too late.

I have not been influenced by “the liberal media” today. I don’t think I will log onto Facebook for at least 24 hours, nor Instagram- maybe I’ll just abstain from the Internet altogether.

Part of me is still in denial, I think, and I’m just not in the mood to hear the gloating.

I held it together until I got in the car this morning, at which point I began sobbing. I try not to use that term loosely, because usually I truthfully let silent tears run down my face, bottling my emotions inside of myself. But today as I sat at a red light on Lake Elmo Road, I took a moment to look around at my fellow drivers, my fellow Americans. They looked just as tired as me, just as shocked. One man stared at his car radio, and though I couldn’t hear what was being said, he gave an expression of disgust and reached down quickly to turn it off, shaking his head. The lady in the car next to me just looked exhausted. The person in front of me had an “I’m With Her” bumper sticker. I was left thinking- what is this? What is going on?

Then I broke down. Picture the most pathetic, sad, ugly-crying seventeen year-old you have ever seen. I don’t think I can properly articulate everything I was, still am feeling, all I know is that my heart is broken.

I have a few thoughts. I heard a commentator on TV last night mention that Trump’s advantage was that his supporters were incredibly passionate, while Clinton’s supporters seemed to be driven to her mostly out of a lack of other options. I think this hypothesis holds incredibly true. Those who voted for a third party, those who wrote in another candidate, those who did not vote at all: absolutely no complaints from you over the next four years. Think of the incredible privilege to vote that you just wasted.

Before I get too fired up, let me take a step back: yes, I am bitter. Yes, I am heartbroken. Yes, I am confused and sick and exhausted.

Still, I will praise Him.

There is not a doubt in my mind that whatever is happening, this is God’s will for our country. In the eye of the storm, He remains in control.

Do not lose hope.

Over the course of this incredibly long, drawn-out election cycle, I have learned so many valuable things about myself, my family, my beliefs, and most importantly, my God. Now, not only should we not place our trust in the White House: we cannot. There are many things that… our new president… stands for, that I most resolutely do not, and do not believe my God does, either.

I’m still with her. I still believe love trumps hate. I still believe in equality, in racial justice, in the importance of many other issues Hillary triumphed. So I will support them. I will respect our nominal president, and I will simultaneously honor my God by loving His people. If there was ever an obligation to rally fiercely for what we believe in, the time is now.

So the first female president will not be elected this year, and I am mourning. But it is also morning, and I am awake. I am alive, breathing, blood pumping, standing on American soil. There is much I want to change, and today is a new day. In the midst of this madness, look above for your strength, and put one foot in front of the other.

Do not lose hope.

It is not finished yet.