I voted. I voted early this year. Usually, I wait until election day to check all my little boxes, there’s something exhilarating about being part of the process on the day and being in line chatting with other voters. Thankfully that spirit pervaded a week or so ago, everyone eager to cast their ballots and everything moving along smoothly.

Then I entered that liminal space of having voted but still being bombarded by political ads. I’ve joked–but not entirely joking–that I wish once we’ve voted we could opt out of seeing all the television ads, and somehow all the roadside placards would fade from view. I don’t watch much television, read a limited bit of political commentary–definitely not a news junkie–and easily scroll past Facebook memes. And yet …When one talks about airwaves, in this time, it can feel as if the very air is saturated with red and blue and donkeys and elephants. Instead of the constant buzz mellowing into white noise it’s a jackhammer.

In my particular area, the Carolinas blend so we hear campaign promises, threats, and convictions by, for, and about people we can’t even vote for. It’s like the next county over being allowed to dump their toxic waste in our backyard and we can’t do anything about it. The closest thing to the opt out option is the mute button on the remote and it’s been getting a workout these last several weeks.

During this presidential election I’ve lived in the liminal space of being a woman of faith and a conscientious voter. I’ve resisted blogging about politics, (though I’ve done some), out of respect for others’ views, and because I’m not an expert on anything much less politics, and because I wanted to stay out of the fray. (More than once, I’ve been accused of being a Pollyanna.) Instead of reposting some of the stronger political musings on Facebook, I’ve opted for cheerful, humorous, or affirming messages in hopes I was adding positive energy to the cosmos. And yet … In my morning meditations last week, I was reminded several times that as a woman of faith I also have a duty to speak out against injustices, to speak up for the vulnerable. To speak.

Speaking up for the vulnerable is where I know I differ from some friends when it comes to abortion, immigration, LGBTQ+ rights, and other hot button issues. I see few issues as black and white; gray being that liminal space where individual rights and government involvement exist. Pro-Life isn’t simply anti-abortion for me; it’s also about providing for those little miracles with good education, with safe housing and environment, with healthy and plentiful food and with healthcare. My family knows firsthand the heartache of infertility so pro-life also includes helping families adopt those babies that will ultimately be released because the birth mother is unable to provide for her baby. Programs that some label socialism; programs I call following the gospel.

Vulnerable is defined as suspect to physical or emotional attack or harm. Some argue the unborn are the most vulnerable. I take issue with the word most in their argument. Having multiple family members and friends in the LBGTQ+ community, I can attest to their vulnerability, their suspect to physical or emotional attack or harm. I’ve witnessed it. While others see them as threats to traditional values–I’ve never had anyone convincingly explain to me how that is, basing their argument on biblical principles; in that same bible I see the examples of welcoming and loving the outcasts–or as St. Francis professes, loving those in the margins (the immigrant, the homeless, those suffering from mental or physical difficulties included).

The blessing and challenge of the bible is we each hear what speaks to our heart and that may be different than how another heart hears; the blessing and challenge of our democracy is the same, but also includes the freedom to vote following our heart.

I have absolutely no idea why this particular blog post weighed on my heart this week, or why I’m writing it the day before election day, but during yesterday’s mass, the sermon boiled down to love of God and love of neighbor, and how all the other Commandments are based on those two. These are the two great laws. Maybe all of this was my own reminder to speak up more, election or not.

One of the characteristics of liminal space is discomfort and this presidential election journey has been uncomfortable, and for many, growing into anxiety and real fear. Rightfully so. What has sustained me through this is my firm belief in the genuine goodness of people. After tomorrow, no matter the outcome, may our love of neighbor and genuine goodness guide us through the liminal space.

Last week I mentioned I planned to chop down one of the big Chinaberry trees. I did! No harm to barn, fence or body parts in the process.

Tomorrow I’ll be lopping off branches for firewood, cleaning up debris and burning brush– in other words staying away from the television and the computer. I’m also working on a project to share here next Monday. I hope you stop by to see! Have a great week everyone!