Time Change

This weekend, it happens again.

And I dislike it.

A lot.

Daylight saving time ends, and once again, we're expected to turn back our clocks and pretend everything is normal.

Well, it doesn't feel normal.

I like my daylight in the evenings, thank you very much.

But another ending is coming just two days later, and I cannot wait.

The local election season.

It's been particularly unpleasant in our small community, and frankly, I'm ready for the end.

Funny thing about change, though.

Some changes we dread. Others we welcome. And some we think will be temporary, only to discover they aren’t.

Take the time change, for instance.

I love long summer days when the sun is barely peeking through my windows as I'm crawling into bed.

I feel a little guilty and super old when I go to bed before the sun is completely down.

God knows, the sun will be asleep for hours after I've gotten up in the morning, so I figure we can give each other a little alone time.

And sure, most of us will complain about the time change for a couple of days, but we'll adjust.

It'll become the new normal, and all will be well.

Human relationships aren't quite so forgiving.

I spent years working in government, and I ran for public office twice.

I won one election.

I lost the other.

I never expected everyone to vote for me.

People have different priorities, opinions, and ideas about who should represent them.

That's how elections are supposed to work.

What surprised me was how personal some people made it.

I knew politics could get ugly on the national stage, but I hadn't expected that same ugliness among people who'd known each other for years.

There were lies. There were whispers.

And, unfortunately, too many of those whispers found their way back to me.

Some people stopped speaking to me altogether.

Years later, some still don't.

Some still seem bent out of shape that I had the audacity to apply for a job!

I'm not everyone's cup of cognac.

But I hadn't realized how easily a political disagreement could replace ordinary civility.

Running for office changed me in ways I never anticipated.

And I learned far more from losing than I ever did from winning.

For one thing, I found out who my friends were.

That lesson alone was worth the price of admission!

I learned that disagreement and disrespect aren't the same thing, and one doesn't have to lead to the other.

I'm currently watching the extreme ugliness unfold in our community, and it is disheartening.

Oh, the ick of it all.

I find myself thinking about the people on both sides of the ballot, their families, and those around them who may discover that an election's consequences last far longer than the campaign.

It takes courage to put your name on a ballot, knowing that your qualifications, appearance, decisions, character, and even your family may become subjects of public discussion.

Even public ridicule.

Candidates willingly enter the political arena, but their families and friends don't necessarily sign up for everything that comes with it.

And I'm praying for the candidates fighting the good fight, and for the families standing beside them.

When this election is over, we'll still be neighbors.

We'll still encounter each other in grocery stores, churches, restaurants, and parking lots.

The campaign signs will disappear.

The votes will be counted.

Someone will win, and someone will lose.

A few years from now, we may not remember which candidate drew first blood or which members of the peanut gallery stirred the pot.

But we'll remember that it got ugly.

And some will live with the consequences for years.

Time doesn't necessarily repair the damage we do to one another.

This Sunday, we'll turn back our clocks. Within a few days, we’ll adjust.

On Tuesday, some people's lives will change in ways they never anticipated.

And unlike the clocks, they may never change back.

When the votes are counted, I'll wish I could turn back a few other things, too.

Not the election. Not anyone's vote.

Just some of the words spoken, the friendships strained, the relationships broken, and the kindnesses forgotten along the way.

Because I can get used to losing an hour of evening daylight.

It's losing a little of the light in my community that I find so much harder to accept.