I woke up before five this morning, even though we don’t have school. It’s election day as I’m writing, and it might make sense for me to get up this early, if there was anything on my precinct’s ballot, but there is not.

So, I rolled over and closed my eyes, but despite the fact that I have an opportunity to sleep late, my brain is engaged. It’s problem-solving issues that aren’t mine to solve. It’s running scenarios for situations over which I have no control.

I use my tried and true strategy of grabbing the novel I’m currently working on. Maybe if I get lost in a story, I’ll go back to sleep. But books being what they are, and me being who I am, the story of a racially charged shooting is just giving my brain more fodder.

I sigh, roll out of bed, and tend to a few things over which I do have control — a load of laundry, a few rogue dishes in the sink, my cluttered desk. I’m trying to bring order to my immediate surroundings despite the far-flung chaos which we now find to be just another Tuesday.

Even though this is not supposed to be just another Tuesday. It’s supposed to be a day that I can weigh in, have my say.

It’s election day, and I can’t even cast my vote for change.

So, I light a candle, do some yoga, brew a pot of tea, and go with what I know — words on the page.

I can’t solve problems that aren’t mine — the ones of those dear to me who are trying to find the right employment fit or the ones of two students who, after moving to a new place, likely due to housing insecurity, are no longer on the bus route and will likely move to virtual school, eventually, after they’ve had no schooling for the last few weeks.

I can’t understand why more than half of the country, according to a new New York Times poll, would still be ok with electing a man who’s been found guilty of sexual assault, is currently on trial for financial crimes, and is facing a total of 91 felony counts! when countless are the American citizens who cannot get a paid position with merely 1 felony count.

I can’t fathom the devastation in Israel and Gaza where over 1400 Israelis and over 10,000 Palestinians — mostly civilians — have died. Thousands of lives lost within a month — families destroyed forever. I have no words.

I don’t get how our country has over $105 BILLION to send to Israel and the Ukraine to aid in their wars but it doesn’t have enough money to ensure that our parents (or we!) don’t go broke paying for healthcare or enough to provide an equitable education to all American children, or even, for heaven’s sake, a decent breakfast and/or lunch for my students. (No, I do not consider a Pop Tart and a juice box a decent breakfast for a teenager, even if it is free).

I can’t solve the problems with transportation, attendance, and substance abuse that impact my students every day because those problems are mere symptoms of a larger multi-system malignancy that has roots that reach before my lifetime and spread far beyond my influence.

I don’t have that kind of power. I don’t have that kind of wisdom.

So, I return to what I know. I light a candle. I go to my yoga mat. I breathe in and out.

I sigh a prayer — a simple Lord, have mercy.

Lord, help! Lord, guide! Lord, intervene!

Make sense out of confusion. Make order out of chaos.

Replace poverty with plenty, violence with peace, hatred with love.

You have that kind of power. You have that kind of wisdom.

None of this is out of Your control.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Amen.