After I turned in my ballot today, the attendant gave me a sticker with the words, “I VOTED” in large white caps screaming patriotically across a back drop of red and blue. In much smaller print, the same statement was made in 15 other languages, including Armenian – Ես քվեարկել եմ – and as if that small bit of reinforcement for my action was not enough, the attendant then turned to me and said, “Thank you for voting.”

I’m very observant when it comes to manners and appreciate a “please” here and a “thank you” there, but this “Thank you for voting” seemed a bit out of place, just enough to get my mind wandering. And thank you for working at the polling place, right? Why wouldn’t I vote? I’ve been voting since I turned 18 and my grandmother gave me an application, ordering me to fill it out. Voting was serious business for her!

All four of my grandparents were genocide survivors. They arrived on the shores of the United States in the 1920s after being exiled from their homes in historic Armenia. They left the oppressive regime of the Ottoman Turks. They lost parents, children and family members in violent and inhumane acts perpetrated upon them during the Armenian Genocide between 1915 and 1923. America was a safe haven, a place where potentials could be exploited thanks to a freedom to pursue your dreams. They took their citizenship seriously and exercised their right to vote. It was always interesting to me, that they never took freedom for granted.

I remember my grandparents talking about America in grateful terms. America has no obligation to us, they would say, and yet, she opens her doors and gives us an opportunity to live and prosper in peace. Long before Kennedy phrased it, that early generation of immigrants lived it: Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. And they did. They lived, worked, struggled, paid their taxes, served in the military, and took any opportunity they could to thank God for America. I wondered if my grandparents had read those Armenian words on the sticker would have felt that now they had arrived? Or perhaps they would have taken it more in stride and wondered why all the fuss? Of course, we voted!

Throughout the election season, I often thought of my grandparents, their generation and the America which gave them sanctuary. I cross compared their attitudes and now ours, and just how much we take for granted. I also thought of the great American experiment and how fragile it is, and can it survive being taken for granted?

Today as we pray, our prayer is no different than any other that I’ve taught here on Armodoxy for Today. It’s not about God interceding and helping our economy or shielding us against bombs, it’s a prayer for wisdom for us – the people who live and work here – to wake up and never take this freedom for granted; to build up this sanctuary which houses hopes and gives opportunities for dreams. It’s in our hands.

From St. Nersess Shnorhali’s 11th hour of worship, Jesus, Wisdom of the Father, grant us your wisdom, to think, speak and do that which is good in your sight. Save me from evil thoughts, words and deeds. Have mercy on all your creatures and on me. Amen.