You are needed now (the day after Election Day 2016).

I remember the day after vividly. In some ways, I remember it more vividly than Election Day itself.

Early on the evening of November 8, 2016, I was at the library with our family, dropping off ballots, big smiles on our faces. Hours later, our expressions were different. The unthinkable had not only been thought: the unthinkable was happening in real time. The unthinkable had happened.

For at least a decade previous, I, like many preachers and pastors, had used Donald Trump as a reference point from the furthest example possible of what a 1) Gospel-following Christian and 2) law-respecting political leader might look like. I wrote about him for years in these terms; I am someone guilty of not respecting the reality of what he could potentially do, and finally did do. What did he do on this day? He got elected.

He got elected, fairly. Yes, he lost the popular vote, yes, there are plenty of historical variables and October surprises for us to examine in the rear view mirror. But according to the laws of the land and the election system we’ve agreed to, he won. His opponent, Hillary Clinton, conceded that very night. To be clear, it is a very different thing for individuals to be claiming voter fraud or malfeasance. It is a very, very different deal for those in power - particularly those who just got voted out - to claim voter fraud. Donald Trump is a liar and a full hypocrite. Full stop.

My memories are bleak of this night. But this is what happened next, and this is what people, particularly identifying as liberals or progressives, must understand and respect:

For most people, their days consist of small things in a small ecosystem that depends on them.

What did I do the next day? I woke up at 5-something in the morning to help get children ready. It was pouring down rain as we commuted the Washington and Oregon roads to get to a friend’s house; a friend who would watch our children in the morning, and then we would swap in the afternoon. I was tired. It was hard, physically and emotionally. But they needed me.

I drove an hour to get them there. A short drop off, then a drive back up north to where I taught a couple high school classes. My mind was many other places, but it needed to be there. Because they needed me.

I headed back to our friend’s house to get my kids, as well as hers. We loaded up lunches and drove out Mt Hood Forest, where we leaped out and headed into the crackly woods. These woods were also adjacent to fast-moving river; a fact which I had to keep forefront as we built shelters, played hide and seek, and looked for creatures. Our nation had just decided, via the electoral process of our land, that a failed businessman and wannabe strongman was the person to lead our country, and my mind and heart wanted to rage and process and be angry. And I was. But I couldn’t do that then. I couldn’t sit down at a desk and write polemics. I couldn’t go on a live feed and share my thoughts. I couldn’t take my many well-constructed arguments and rational conjectures and evaluate them with others. I was in the forest next to a river. With children. And they needed me.

There are people all over who do jobs that are meaningful, that are needed. Regardless of politics, many, many of these jobs are necessary. Your plumber or ER doc or checker or crossing guard might have very different politics than you. They may have enabled the ascendancy of a despot. But they have an existence, a reality; they are needed within their small ecosystem. And it likely is…relatively small.

Most people live in a relatively small social ecosystem.

I want to believe that my articulated opinion and thoughts matter to the world. Sometimes they have, I think. Sometimes they do. But oftentimes, most of the time, most of the country is going to do a job of some sort, whether it’s paid or compensated well or not. And across the spectrum, there are people who do their specific job well, within the scope of their field. We have to be able to interact with them within that scope with respect.

In broad strokes, many conservatives are kind and decent people…to the people in their orbit. In broad strokes, many liberals are kind and decent people…to people beyond their orbit; to those across the oceans or in radically different systems of lifestyles.

Some of the kindest, most decent people to me that I've known have also had some of the most racist, unkind, uncharitable, un-Christian like words and attitudes about those outside their orbit. They would never describe it as such, but that is the reality. If you’re in their community, their accepted and safe community, then you will receive every benefit and kindness. I have been the recipient of that all my life. It should mean something. It does.

But there should also be deep reflection about extending those benefits and kindness to those beyond our immediate social ecosystems and communities. That is where, in broad strokes, (American-branded) liberalism steps in: the caring and compassion for those outside the safety net; those in different communities than ours. That should mean something.

When I describe myself, perhaps hopelessly and romantically as a centrist, I guess this what I mean at its roots: the idea that our charity and kindness should extend beyond our own social borders and understanding…but also that it should start with those next to us and radiate out. Not radiate in diminishing returns, but radiate, growing and glowing.

But it has to start with those in our orbit. Not end there, but begin there.

I am unequivocally, absolutely opposed to the re-election of Donald Trump next week. This is not a case of “either way there will be problems.” There is one candidate who is a convicted criminal, a serial liar, hypocrite, and cheater, and a figure dedicated to his own self-preservation above all else. Then there is a candidate with whom I disagree on some important issues, but who brings hope, joy, experience, and a willingness to listen well and lead decisively. As a supporter of the environment, of economic growth, of relationships and opportunity, of accountability and responsibility, of education and learning, as a parent and teacher and small business proprietor; as a Christian, of course I support one candidate over the other, and I look forward to my daughter and wife and nieces and nephews and all the women I care about - and even don't - to have a woman leading this country for the first time.

This is what I want to happen. Whatever does happen, though, there will be a next day. There will be people doing their jobs, going about doing what they need to do, what they must do. Because we need them

We need them.
They need us.
We need each other.

For most of us, our lives start small. Small interactions, small groups of people, small conversations. Sometimes they get bigger, and we should always work to better understand those beyond our own systems. But for most of us, most of our days, they start with the people next to us. Because they need us.