March 27, 2016
About a dozen folk were already in the high school when we arrived. This was caucus day. Caucusing is still a bit weird for us. Before we first came to Washington State, we simply went to the local high school and placed our ballot. Now living in a caucus state, we sit with folk in our community, argue for whom we believe would best represent our community, and choose delegates for the candidates selected.
Caucusing began an hour after we arrived, so we watched as folk arrived and slowly filled the tables of each precinct. We sat at the 4001 precinct table. Folk filled the tables to the north and south, and to the east and west. We waited. When time came to caucus, most all the tables were filled, except one to the west, which like ours, had two people.
There is something about showing up. This Easter day, the day after caucusing, has much to say about just showing up. No one chanced showing up at the tomb, but the women. Showing up though meant they had the opportunity to speak with a couple of dazzling men (Lk. 24:4). That morning, those women lived through something no one experienced before or ever again—except through the stories they told. There is something about showing up.
At the end of the day, for the hundred or so square miles of our precinct, two people chose two delegates. The same held true from the precinct table to the west of us. Sure, how few people were at the tables have a lot to say to just how many democrats live within these hundred square miles. Yet it also has much to say of what it means not to show up. The power of many is relinquished to the few.
The experience has much to say to those who wonder about the value of my vote. For on this one day, in the State of Washington, the delegates who are to represent the people of hundreds of square miles of the American landscape, who in turn will help decide who the next president of the United States might be, were decided by four people.
There is something about just showing up.