I’ve always had a birthday. Every year, January 20th rolls around whether or not we usher in a new Commander in Chief. I haven’t always been greeted with the bests gifts; I often haven’t liked the presidents who stole my day from me, but the world didn’t come to an end. Perhaps a more poignant point is that when I did like the president, I also rarely got what I wanted. I’m a big fan of smaller government and more free market, but even in years when my guy won, I lost, and the numbers still shifted away from my own ideals. Still, the world didn’t come to an end.
Tomorrow, Donald Trump becomes #45, and while I neither love nor despise him, the world will not end. We’ll have another election in four years and either confirm him or replace him with #46, and life will go on. January 20th will come in 2018, and I won’t have to share it.
I find it comforting to pray for whoever sits in the Oval Office and ask the ultimate Commander in Chief to direct his path.
So if you’re tied up in knots over the new head of our administrative branch or swinging from the chandeliers happy about him, put it in perspective: life will go on.
…and that’s the view from My Front Porch.