A few years ago I remember sitting in a tiny room in a crowded house on the outskirts of Hanau Germany. Sitting across from me was a young man who I had gotten to know on the streets of Hanau. He lived tiny room that he shared with another person. He was from the Sudan, and we spent a few afternoons talking about what it was to live in a country torn by civil war. For the last decade a large group of Muslims have aggressively attempted to oust Sudanese Christians from many areas in the Sudan. These are the type of stories you read about in the newspaper while you are eating breakfast and shake your head, "Tsk tsk, that's terrible," you think to yourself, and then go about your daily business. But this was not the case for my friend.
He told me how Muslim rebels broke into his house late one night when he was 14 years old. He slept in the same room as his parents, and they screamed for him to run. As his mother was crying out, telling her how much she loved him, she was struck in the head by gun fire. His father was also mortally wounded. He described to me how he ran as fast as he could for miles, and spent the early hours of the morning weeping as he scrubbed his mother's blood and grey matter out of his clothing. He fled to Germany, and was living on government assistance, and was terrified that he might be extradited, because he knew what was waiting for him back home. He had brothers and sisters, but he had no idea where they were or whether they were alive.
Another woman I met was from El Salvador. One afternoon, while we were talking about where we were from and what it was like for us when we were kids, she asked to see my passport. When I lived in Germany I carried it around with me all the time, so I had it on me. I passed it across the table, and she sat there holding it, staring at it silently. Then she looked up at me. "Do you have any idea how bad so many people I know want one of these? I love where I grew up, but I would trade places with you in a second and never look back. You should feel lucky every day that you have one of these. Because of it, you have opportunities that very few people in the world enjoy."
Today when I finished with work I stopped at a local fire station. Multiple members of my community, who gave their time without compensation, greeted me there. I showed them my ID and they showed me a booth. I went inside and drew the curtains, and, in the culmination of a few months of thinking and forming my opinion, I got to choose who I would trust to help form the construct of my future. I made my mark and left the booth. The people I voted for may win or lose, but I got to give my say.
Tomorrow, we will have a new president elect. We will new representatives in every level of government. I am keeping my fingers crossed here, but I think there will be no coup, no violent uprising, no gunmen in the streets. This will happen because of the system of government that we have, and the millions of men and women who agree to uphold that system.
There are plenty of imperfections, plenty of annoyances and injustices. There are failures and incongruities and mishaps. All of these things frustrate us, anger us, and over time they steal our hope. I hope all of us will take minute to remember, especially on days like today, that in spite of all the bad things that we focus on, the end result is still, by the standards of the rest of the world, nothing short if miraculous.
By the way.... I wrote in President Palmer. Yes, I know the probability is low that a fictional character will win the presidency, but I am still keeping my fingers crossed.
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