Phew. I gotta say, if this last week is any indication of what life is going to be like now that I’m a real grownup, I think I’m going to have to start going to bed earlier.

My brain hurts. Last week in the office was ah-may-zing but oh my, I crammed an awful lot into the ol’ noggin’. Which is good and is exactly the reason I went for a week-long work visit to Minneapolis. I’m working on a big, fancy new project and before I can write about it, I had to figure out what exactly is going on, so I spent hours pestering some oh-so-patient developers with “so, you might have said this already, but where do I find that XML?” and “which action initiates the sync again?”

(Lol – I totally make it sound like I know what I’m talking about, right?)

My heart hurts. Being with my coworkers was oh-so-wonderful. We went out for lunch and for happy hour and for DQ and chatted in the kitchen and hugged and laughed and swapped kid updates. And in a happy/sad way, I said goodbye to a good friend on my team (happy because he’s got another job and he timed his last day with me being present to send him off, but also sad because he’s got another job and he timed his last day with me being present to send him off!). And I got a new boss, which is totally fine (and again, very nice to be there in person to get the news) but I’ve now said goodbye to two great bosses in under a year so there’s that.

My spirit hurts. The election. Oy. I’m not going to comment much on a macro level; y’all know where I stand and my Face.book feed is full of people expressing their sadness and concern much more eloquently than I could. And I’m reluctant to be too vocal because I really, really don’t want to appropriate a grief and dismay that aren’t really mine.

We’re in such an odd place down here. Completely vested in what’s going on, yet with no say. Presenting as the “perfect” nuclear family, yet here only because we’re immigrants who “stole American jobs” (although, since we’re a white heterosexual couple that speaks excellent English, I believe the preferred term is “expats”). Even if I commiserate, I feel disingenuous and that people are thinking judgmentally “easy for her to say – she’s got the double golden ticket of a green card AND a Canadian passport if things really go south.”

We might have a “get out of jail free” card, but it is still so hard to be here right now. There is so much division and frustration and anger and fear. The election may be over, but it feels like the anxiety and distrust it’s exposed is only getting started. And so very painful is watching the Church tear itself apart. It’s kinda hard to be a Christian here right now.

But I am, and I’ve found solace in listening to this album on repeat this week, particularly this song:

And I am hopeful. My churches both preached unity and loving better on Sunday. I see people on both sides trying to engage one another and listen. I see so many who have been emboldened to stand strong for love and justice and peace.

We see this even in our home. The Girl contemplated joining the high school walkout today, and we were able to have a long talk about how we can best use finite time and resources for the most good. She came home from school with stories of every. single. locker. displaying a note of acceptance today and posters declaring love and solidarity all around the school. The student leaders at her school are organizing open forums and shows of support even as they call for students to protest not by walking out of school but by staying the course and investing in their education as another tool in their struggle to make the world a better place.

This might be the last election I have to sit out as an innocent bystander. I alternate these days between searching for jobs in British Columbia and tallying up how many days we have to wait until we can apply for citizenship. I simultaneously want to get the heck outta here AND double down on our American adventure and throw my lot in with this country, about which and whose inhabitants I have come to love so much. It’s a strange, in-between place, but until we decide one way or the other (or it’s decided for us), I continue to be inspired by Jeremiah’s words to the Israelites who were so far from home:

Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper. (Jeremiah 29:7)