Disclaimer: this isn’t a political post, entirely.

I woke up with a heavy heart this mo(u)rning.

Not because of who was voted into office late last evening (I have to admit I was a little shocked — but I feel shock was inevitable with this election). No, this heaviness was coming from a deep realization of the brokenness of who we have become — as a human race.

I woke up, bombarded with victory shouts of blind faith in a “better America,” groaning sighs of defeat from the mourning of a close loss and a dream for change, discussions of heated and hurting racial discrimination, and an understandable fear for the future.

I finally decided to delete my social media accounts from my iPhone because I just couldn’t scroll through to read another post from another flawed opinion (and ironically, began writing about my own).

Humans.

Man (pun slightly intended), we can be so _______ sometimes…

(I left that blank for you to fill in whatever adjective you prefer. I have several on my mind...)

Social media is irritating me, more so today than ever. It only seems to magnify our flawed emotions and personal opinions and stores them up for us to be embarrassed by years later when Facebook reminds us of our past posts through that humiliating TimeHop app. (There is not much more embarrassing to me than waking up to something I posted 6 years ago in college... *sigh*)

Today, my heart feels heavy — because I just don’t know what to do to make it better.

I don’t know how to fix the issues of racism in our world. I don’t know how to give hope to those who are afraid for the future of their children or families. I don’t know how to better understand the anger of those who just want equality for all people. I don’t know how to find a cure for the cancer that continues to steal people that I love right out of my life. I don’t know why my sister can’t have children or why statistics prove that more than 50% of marriages will end in divorce.

I don’t know how to fix the brokenness.

But still, the heaviness and despair remain evident in our nation and world — and I don’t think that wound can be fixed by me, or any political candidate.

I truly believe that love is the only answer.

The only hope I have to cling onto and share with anyone is my faith in Jesus. The only hope I can see for our brokenness is to challenge ourselves to become more like love.

I wish I was better at being more like love so that the world could find what they’re looking for.

I wish I was better at being good. Better at being faithful. Better at being loyal. Better at being forgiving. Better at being a true friend. Better at being kind. Better at being selfless. Better at being loving...

But the truth is — I’m not.

I’m too often, very horrible at those things. I’m so broken. Broken like the rest of our world full of people who are more hungry than they’ve ever been for true love, peace, and lasting joy. Hungry for purpose, real relationships, and hope for their lives and for those they love.

But that sad truth of being an imperfect human, incapable of loving perfectly, won’t keep me from trying. I’ll try every day to be more like love. I’ll try by bringing smiles and encouragement where they are needed and hope where people feel defeated.

I don’t have much to offer this world, but I can offer a flawed desire to be more like love.

Love is patient, and kind. It is not jealous, or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand it’s own way. It is not irritable and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Keep trying with me, to become more like love, each day.

...from another flawed, human opinion,

Love always,

Amy

“..You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy..” Psalm 30:11