I was driving down Main Street in Carmel today, thinking about the opportunity to represent the people of our community in Congress. And yes, in case you’re wondering, the idea of that is in fact terrifying.
It’s overwhelming because there’s so much I know that I don’t know. I spot businesses that have sprung up since I was last paying attention. I notice a sea of faces in restaurant patios of people who I have not met. There are construction projects that I don’t recognize. And that’s one street—one I usually drive down a few times a month.
This follows a trip around the district a few days ago, up to Westfield, over to Sheridan, down through Big Springs and then to Zionsville. These are places I’ve driven through before but I don’t know them well. And they are full of people and stories it would take a thousand lifetimes to truly understand.
Because in truth, no one could know all of this. No one could be intimately familiar with every square mile of a single town, much less an entire Congressional district. It’s humbling to consider being elected to this office. Because no matter what one person does—no matter what I do—one can never be completely qualified to represent others. Even with total devotion to service, we will always fall short.
There are other candidates in this race already. Many people have already decided to vote for them. I might disagree with those candidates on policy, on messaging, on the challenges that face us.
But I truly hope that anyone who is running is feeling humbled. I know, every day, that I am.