My dad and I went in to the local church and did our civic duty. We voted. It feels great to participate in this process- to feel like my vote ultimate counts and matters in the leadership of  America.

The room was simple, spacious with a few booths ensuring privacy. There were ballots and instructions written in at least 5 languages. Spanish, Chinese, Korean translators were available and people were very attentive to time, gracious and helpful. The old woman who was in charge was slow and kind. It was good for me to see the elderly with authority and respected when usually I see them disregarded and not part of the workforce.

I think of voter rights in the early days of American history and how much blatant corruption and deliberate racism and sexism voters experienced. From poll taxes to physical threats, people actually had to risk their lives and pay extra money to have a voice in government. Today, I thank God for those invisible patriots who fought to win my voter rights to peacefully participate in the voter process.

In many countries around the world, simply reading a ballot is the first among many other challenges that keep them from participating in their government's leadership.  America is far from a perfect system of government. There are plenty of other forms of injustice. Yet, it allows for change to be made when communities unite and make their choices clear. That's community and democracy to me.

Today, I can freely walk in, cast my ballot and walk out without harm or injury and my vote matters to me. It was also great to go with my dad. My mom chose not to participate for her own reasons and limits, yet it was her choice and I believe that is the very thing that counts...

Sunday night I found myself in a location in the city waiting on a line that wrapped itself around the block. No, it wasn't a bus stop, you'll find in Flushing. No, it wasn't the line for the halal truck. It wasn't the line for the MOMA on Target free Fridays. It was a line to something called a "focus night" led by Hillsong NYC  preacher Carl Lentz from Virginia and I'm guessing Hillsong musicians from Australia. I found myself entering a small room with a stage, lights, and lots and lots of excited  students. I wondered could all these young people be here to worship and sing songs to the Lord? As the music began and students bounced, causing the very floor beneath me to flex, I looked around this completely filled night club, and remembered the kindness of the Lord. Yes, He loves NY. He loves students. He loves young people.... He hasn't forgotten and the city life doesn't quite satisfy the deepest longings of our own lonely heart. And I began to bounce--- just a little and let the smiles and joy of the Lord wash over me as Mr. Virginian preacher who my Hillsong fanatic friend said, looks like Jesus, lead us in a Word that fed our souls.

I wish I had a picture to show you--- I've been to Hong Kong, Africa, and even on Fire Island and worshiped the same Lord. But this was my first time worshiping NYC style -- not church style-- it was NY style... The young man next to me, who called me "flamin'" went up to the front to receive the Holy Spirit and Jesus as Lord and Savior... WOW-- I wonder what the Lord was wearing that night... in this NYC clubroom.

The last thing Carl did was ask people who wanted to be set free from a certain bondage to come up and receive a prayer. I didn't go up since I didn't even have anything in mind. But to my surprise... later that night, the Lord set me free from something I didn't even know was keeping me captive. Yesterday, while it poured rain all day, I grieved and mourned. But today, I feel like a new woman... even though it's still gray---

-- oh --- as I went jogging, I finally did it! I stopped and worked out with the old people who follow the strange movements of the skinny black woman-- it turns out, the skinny woman is really following an old china man who leads the work out in the park. I have always been curious but too proud to stop and today, I just did it without thinking too much about it.

My dad and his friends walked by and gave me a thumbs up. Then I met a tall long-haired man who turned out to be the husband of the skinny woman who gave me a dvd workout and explanation of the old man's work. Picture this in your mind friends, tall black man giving away information that's all in Chinese to Chinese American woman, who's illiterate in Chinese, who stopped in the park to watch and finally participate in a strange phenomenon-- which her ancestors most likely practiced -- Chinese exercise. -- tai chi?Chi gong?  I don't even know what it's called.