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The last four years have been complicated for me - I am not normally a very political animal, but Donald Trump& #39;s presidency has constantly rubbed my nerves utterly raw. As the husband of an immigrant, I& #39;ve had little choice but to stay, hand on a hot stove, all four years.
It& #39;s been exhausting. I know it& #39;s been that way for a lot of people. All day today I have been torn between my feelings about Donald Trump the man, and the kind of person I want desperately to be, who rises above his personal distaste and even outright loathing for a cruel man.
Despite everything else 2020 gave us, it also gave me a wonderful, healthy child. Tonight I held him as he fell asleep in my arms, and I searched as hard as I could in my soul. I put down what I found in those quiet moments over that crib here, after being encouraged by a friend.
Tonight while I held him to put him to bed, I thought about how the little boy who I do not know yet might grow up to be someone every person in the world could think was a monster - and that I would still love him and want the best for him, want him to live and to prosper.
I thought about how, if I turned into a selfish and conceited villain, he would want the same for me. I realized in that moment that I want Donald Trump to live - and it wasn& #39;t an easily realization after four years of bitterly wishing he would disappear from my personal radar.
I realized he has a fourteen year old son - fourteen year olds idolize their dads. I remember being fourteen, and despite knowing everything at that age (of course), wondering how in the world my Dad kept the entire world spinning. I still don& #39;t know, over a decade later.
I know a teenager doesn& #39;t stop to ask whether or not their fathers are good men or not. They& #39;re scared when their dads are sick. My own father is like a rock. Even his colds scare me. And I know now fathers both good and bad want to live long enough to see their children grow up.
It also made me think about fear - universal in its empathetic draw. Tonight, Donald Trump, a noted germaphobe, will probably lie awake all night in a hospital bed, terrified. He will likely get sicker before he gets better, if he gets better at all.
The entire time, fear will hang like a specter above him. I remember being in hospitals in the last decade where I felt that fear. How every person, even before they go under for a routine procedure, has that moment of fear. How long a single night can be when you are waiting.
I know what it& #39;s like to stand outside a hospital room, realizing how much more you wished you& #39;d connected with a person who never let you in as they disappear. I don& #39;t envy Donald Trump& #39;s family. To all appearances they are just as cruel as the man I believe Trump himself to be.
...And yet maybe there& #39;s just a part of me that thinks that no one, not a single person, wants to watch their Dad or Husband - one of the strongest figures in most people& #39;s lives, grow weaker and fade in front of them. I think no matter how cruel or selfish you are, that& #39;s scary.
So despite it all, and despite my own middling faith, I& #39;ll pray tonight for a man who I disagree with on every issue, who I privately loathe, who I personally do not think has ever used his tremendous power, wealth, and privilege to help anyone but himself and those close to him.
I will pray for his family who are scared. I will pray for his son, who should not have his father taken from him by a terrifying and horrible to watch disease before he can show him what kind of man he will grow up to be.
I will pray for the scared man, who I hope even now can still be redeemed, can still grow, can still do good in the world. And maybe he won& #39;t... but I can hope that he will. /end
