I could barely see the podium or the big screen last week in Washington, DC. It's not because we weren't close enough to either... in fact, we were pretty darn close to the action.

It's because I couldn't stop crying the whole time.

From Aretha (what a hat...!) to Reverend Lowery ("Let all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen...") the experience was transformational. I was honored and excited to be able to attend, of course, but I was not prepared for the emotion of the event. I have met Mr. Obama and I've been inspired by his words on many occasions. Jennifer and I were there in Denver on that beautiful August evening when he accepted his party's nomination and said, in describing the proper role of government and the responsibility of the individual, "That's the promise of America, the idea that we are responsible for ourselves, but that we shall also rise and fall as one nation, the fundamental belief that I am my brother's keeper, I am my sister's keeper." I was prepared to be inspired, and I was.

"What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility," Mr. Obama said, "... a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather sieze gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task." Then, he called us all out:"That is the price and promise of citizenship," he said.

So, why the emotion, if I was so prepared for all this? Simple: I was ready to look ahead, but I had not realized how much anger I had been suppressing about the last 8 years... and Mr. Obama's words required me to come to grips with those emotions, right there on the lawn of the Capitol. He said, "We chose hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord." He said, "...our time of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions -- that time has surely passed." He said, "We will restore science to its rightful place." He said, "...without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control." And, most important, he said, "...we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals." 

Last Tuesday, Mr. Obama did not just become our first African-America President -- although that is a globally transcendant event on its own. In just 18 minutes, he awoke us from our national nightmare and sent us out into the world to serve, to represent the best of the American ideal.

And now, as he said, it's not about him. It's about us. As my colleague, Dan Baum, wrote recently in one of his wonderful blog posts from Zambia (http://blogs.redwoodsgroup.com/blogs/zambia/archive/2009/01/21/what-obama-s-inauguration-means.aspx) it's time to take these feelings and "put them to work."

I also think it's important to know that our work can't be only about serving. I think it has to be about calling others to serve, too. A year ago, I wrote in this space about Dr. King and about how his reputation had been sanitized over the years. Dr. King was angry, and he had a right to be. And he was widely hated. He was beaten, jailed and, finally, murdered for his beliefs and his actions. While his actions were peaceful, the change he sought was nothing short of violent. He despised what he called "the tranquilizing drug of gradualism." Dr. King and Mr. Obama are different in many ways, but in this way, they are aligned: they understand there is much work to be done.

I left Washington last week with all this in my heart and with the nut of an idea in my head. A sort of New Year's Resolution. And just this morning, aided by the words of the brilliant Tim Tyson, I came to understand the greater depth of this new, more urgent calling:

We are called not only to comfort the afflicted, but also to afflict the comfortable.

Join me, won't you?