The Sun Always Comes Up

What we do with the day we're given is up to us

“Everything can be taken from a [wo]man but one thing; the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Viktor Frankl

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It’s hardest to tell the kids.

I startled awake at 4 AM the day after the election, and before even looking at my phone, I knew. I knew in that sinking intuitive way that you know things you don’t want to know.

For hours, I sat in a dark house with my coffee and my thoughts. The world was still quiet and cool. My husband and son were upstairs, sleeping. Still safe from the news. Still safe from reality.

I didn’t want the sun to come up.

There is a unique moment in time after you’ve been given a particularly bad medical diagnosis, but before anyone else knows. You know that the second you tell them – the moment you pick up the phone, or walk through the door, you have ended something. There’s destruction in the news you will share. You know you will be ending the peace and simplicity of the life they’ve known up until that moment. It is a heavy weight.

Unfortunately I know that moment from personal experience. That is a story for another time, perhaps.

But as I sat there in those early morning hours, wishing my boys would sleep extra late, the similarity was striking.

But time stops for no one, no matter how much I wish it would. Soon enough the birds started chirping. A car door slammed. My coffee grew cold.

Eventually my 12-year-old son came down the stairs, all elbows and knees and lanky limbs, hair tousled and curling this way and that. He flopped down on the couch and looked at me with an expectant grin.

My heart was breaking so I had to blurt it out. “I’m so sorry, honey. Kamala didn’t win.”

His face contorted into the most unique expression – a combination of disgust, and confusion, and sadness, and fear. I’ve never seen it before. But that makes sense, I suppose.

I sat down on the couch next to him, put my hand on his knee. I paused, gathered myself.

“The sun always comes up, kiddo. It always comes up.”

I left the thought there, like a good parent should. I didn’t tell him what I was thinking – which was that sometimes when the sun rises it shines its light on things you’d rather not see.

We are in that moment right now, friend. Where the sun has thrown a spotlight on a part of our country and our society that I don’t think any of us wanted to witness.

I didn’t want to see how many millions of Americans – including some people I love – would be willing to vote for a twice-impeached fraudster and abuser and felon and traitor. I didn’t want to see who would choose the wrecking ball, rather than the architect. I didn’t want to see the misogyny gone wild; the jubilant neo-Nazis; the emboldened incels. I didn’t want to see the work in front of us increase exponentially, seemingly overnight.

But shutting our eyes helps no one, except those who would prefer to do their work in darkness.

And denying the facts in front of us doesn’t make them any less factual. (At least, to those of us who still believe in facts.) You can’t dig out the rot until you expose it first. That’s easier to do in the light of day. So we should use the light we’ve been given, even if it’s blinding at times.

Many of us, myself included, believed that our better angels would prevail and that with this election we would leapfrog into a new era of progress and community and improvement. I wish that had been our story. It would have been easier.

But over the last week, I’ve realized that – while we won’t be going into the space that I hoped we would – we are still going into a place of drastic change. None of us wanted the chaos and destruction that are coming. But with those forces also comes opportunity for rebirth and renewal. We need to remember that as we see things fall away.

And it is possible that there will be places where we can make progress – if not as a country, perhaps simply as human beings struggling to make sense of it all.

Before I sign off, let me tell you a very short story about how I arrived here, because it speaks to your power. And now, more than ever, you need to grasp your power with both hands.

Small Deeds Done was actually born in the aftermath of the 2016 election – a scarlet red time when everyday life was punctuated with emotions and fears so sharp they left a metallic taste in your mouth.

On a bright and sunny November day, I went for brunch with my husband and young son. We sat at a corner table by the big front window. The sunlight warmed my back.

Someone should do something, I said to my husband, sipping on my coffee.

So many people are looking for something to do. There's so much power there. We just need to direct it. Someone should do that.

Why don't you do that? He replied.

That's crazy. I laughed. (Because, no offense to my Sugar, that really was crazy.)

No, really, he said. He looked up, a quite serious expression on his face. You're a lawyer. You love to write. You even know how to make a website.

What's stopping you?

I didn't have an answer to that question, frankly.

And that, friend, is how Small Deeds came to be: A simple weekly essay, coupled with a few curated action items that folks like you can tuck into their daily lives.

I immediately started thinking about what I'd call this project - and the quote from Peter Marshall "Small Deeds Done are better than great deeds planned" had always stuck with me. After all, small things that actually get done will always do more than a two-year strategy plan that's workshopped and talked to death but never implemented.

I'll call it Small Deeds Done, I said to my husband.

He nodded.

When we got home, I created the website. I set up an email list. And I wrote the first entry.

November 20, 2016.

It was before Indivisible. Before Wall of Us. Before 5 Calls. It was the wild west of progressive advocacy. Maybe you remember. Or maybe you’re brand new.

In any case, here we are – eight years later, but in some ways in exactly the same moment.

We've learned a lot. About ourselves, about our fellow Americans, and about our country. Some of it has been inspiring. Some, not so much.

But the most important thing I can convey – the biggest lesson I’ve learned after eight years – is that you are far more powerful than you give yourself credit for. I guarantee it.

And you’re not alone. There are millions of Americans just like you, standing side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder. When we all work in concert, the impact is breathtaking.

I’ve seen it with my own eyes, many times over. In policy fights, in special elections, in protests and marches and postcard parties and so many calls to action I can’t remember them all.

That is what this administration will face, friend. Take heart in that sense of community, and that sense of power. It’s real.

But to push back against the worst of what is to come, we all need to be activated. We need to be organized, and thoughtful, and strategic. We need to be united in our purpose, and willing to use the power we’ve got, with every day we’ve got.

Friend, the sun will come up tomorrow.

What we do with the day that we are given is up to us. Let’s make the most of it.

And let’s get to work.

Actions for the Week of November 12, 2024

Here’s the part where – if you are so inclined – we roll up our sleeves and engage in what I like to call Action Therapy. Each Tuesday I share a few “small things” – usually a Small Thing to Read, a Small Event to Attend, and a Small Call to Make or Action to Take. You can tuck these actions into your week with ease – and know that you’re doing something today to make tomorrow better.

Small Event to Attend TONIGHT: Join Jessica Piper (and yours truly) to talk about next steps

Friends, join me and Jess Piper (rural Democrat and the Executive Director of Blue Missouri) tonight to talk about where we go from here. We will visit about what’s next and what we're hearing and seeing on the ground in Missouri and around the country. We hope you can join us.

Register here.

Small Action to Take: Ballot Curing

Every vote matters, and every vote must be counted. As part of ballot curing efforts, you can reach out to voters whose ballots were rejected to help make sure their voice is heard. It’s pretty darn powerful, and some House races have yet to be called.

But even broader than that – just think of the message it sends to voters when you reach out to them to let them know we care enough about their vote to make sure they know how to fix curable errors. It’s an activism two-fer.

There are multiple efforts underway right now. Here are a few:

The DNC is offering multiple dates and times for phone banks. After you sign up, they will connect you with a state team in need: https://www.mobilize.us/dncvopro/event/738494/

In PA, several races have razor thin margins. The ballot cure phone banks in PA end today, November 12, so sign up quickly: https://www.mobilize.us/mobilize/event/742453/

And you can cure ballots for North Carolina through Thursday. Sign up here: https://www.mobilize.us/mobilize/event/709165/

Small Thing to Read/Watch: Timothy Snyder on MSNBC

Timothy Snyder is an excellent historian and his book On Tyranny is practically required reading for this moment. It’s just over 100 pages and full of important advice. (I also wrote about it here.) He was on MSNBC recently, and his appearance was exactly what I needed to see. It’s hopeful but in a pragmatic way. No toxic positivity here, just practical advice and determination.

I hope it’s as galvanizing for you as it was for me. Watch:

https://www.msnbc.com/ali-velshi/watch/timothy-snyder-you-have-to-be-in-the-moment-in-order-to-get-through-the-moment-224024645792

Thanks for reading, friend – I’m glad to see you here! If you love what I do and you want to support it, consider becoming a paid subscriber. It really does mean a lot.