Dear President Trump,
Today we worked in our garden.
It’s an honest day’s work, fit for us.
I consider it a successful day if I teach my children something new (or if I learn something new alongside them). I consider it a successful day if I can write about the things I care about, and if I do the things I’m passionate about.
A successful day, for me, however, is different than a successful day for any number of the other people in my life. What is success to me isn’t success to you.
And while we’re on the subject, even the hard-working individuals who voted you into office have different ideas of what an honest day’s work looks like, as does a hard day of work for people who are completely different than both of us.
I think of friends who have children with disabilities or health concerns, whose days are full of tender care for their little ones.
I think of the people in my family who suffer with mental illness– a successful day could be simply waking up in the morning or getting out of bed.
The honest work of a farmer is not the same work of a politician or a stay at home parent; and every moment of work looks different to people of different cultures, faiths, economic scales– this is supposed to be what makes America.
Part of my work, then, is to write you these letters, to use my voice, to be the reminder that people like me– female worship leaders, indigenous people, indigenous Christians, mothers– we exist.
We believe in what we do.
We go about our passions in the most honest way we can, an it’s a day at a time.
And there are more people like me than you’d think– tribes like us, trying to live a life that is called GOOD.
So in your everyday decisions, President Trump, in your decisions about healthcare and education, about how to keep people both safe and informed– remember that we are working honestly here.
We are being America, the one that has been built because of us.
It’s the ordinary, everyday people that create this country, not the rich who “seem” to own it.
Do not forget that.
So while you’re there, we’ll be here.
Immigrant construction workers,
indigenous and small town farmers
protecting the land;
Christians trying to hold the church to the standards of Jesus and not western Christianity;
and the writers, who pour our words and thoughts out to the world.
And remember that the world works hard, creation doing what needs to be done everyday to keep us all alive here, to keep things going. She holds us together.
Remember. We will always be here with all the others.
With Watching Eyes & Steady Hand,