I like to think of our democracy as a beautiful, shining ship. I’ve been talking to her lately, like she’s a ship in rough waters, or like she’s a plane being put through a stress test in a wind tunnel, her wings being curved to unbelievable angles. Bend, beautiful bird, I say to her. Bend, but please don’t break.

I hope that all of us, no matter what we’d hoped for in this election, can honor this beautiful ship, this beautiful vessel of our government that’s been carrying us now for over 200 years. I hope we can work to keep her basic structure intact in the midst of all the forces that stretch our unity as a nation to its limits.

Our democracy started off as an idea: We wouldn’t be ruled by kings or despots, but by the will of the people, tempered by the careful balance of three interlocking branches of government, each respecting the will and the limits of the others.

This system of government has carried us through a civil war where brother fought against brother. It’s carried us through a time when the runner-up in the presidential election automatically became the vice president, and the oval office was designed to hold a team of rivals.

Bitterness and division and disappointment are nothing new to this system. They’re what’s expected when millions of passionately opinionated people inhabit the same space. They’re not life-threatening to our democracy when they’re tempered with a fundamental sense of respect and reverence for our institutions, and for each other. If we lose that, we become just an angry mob, and our beautiful vessel may rupture.

The American system of governance is worthy of our respect, our allegiance, and our love, regardless of our personal preferences or goals. Its willingness to bend to meet the will of the people is astonishing. It had room for President Obama. It has room for President Trump. It would have had room for Hillary Clinton too, if that had been the outcome of the election. Or Bernie Sanders. Or a team of rivals of all of them together.

My dad describes his time working on ships as a young man this way: Whenever you had a moment that found you standing motionless, you picked up a rag and got to work. If the spot you were cleaning was already clean, you cleaned it some more. You didn’t wait to be told to do this. You took care of your ship because it held you, it carried you through. It flexed with the forces of the waves and kept you afloat.

So let’s get to work taking care of this beautiful democracy that’s carried us this far and has been so very flexible with us. Let’s do the difficult work of resolutely and proactively remaining in community with people we don’t understand. That’s what the ship of this democracy is designed for: rancor, dissension, debate, questioning the status quo, yes — but all of that grounded in a deep respect for our institutions of governance, and for people who don’t share our views.

Let’s educate ourselves on exactly how the system works, and how we can best influence decisions, policies, processes and votes. Let’s make it our business to understand the ins and outs of the sausage-making aspects of government we’d rather not see or have to work with: the rules and regulations of campaign finance, the complicated machines of the electoral college and the political parties. Let’s start locally, face to face, in our state and congressional districts and work from there.

Let’s trust that our individual efforts to influence our democracy matter, even if we don’t get the results that we want in the timeframe that we prefer. Let’s trust that when the will and the passion of the people is strong enough, the ship of our democracy will turn. Let’s be strong enough to honor the turning, even if we don’t agree with its direction.

Let’s also remember that government isn’t the whole picture of society. Our families and our networks of friends are also powerful institutions, and no matter the political climate, children’s primary role models will be the people they see every day. Let’s give generously of our time and our resources to businesses and nonprofits that serve our communities well. Let’s make our homes and our religious institutions places of genuine refuge for people in need.

Let’s never assume for a second that it’s somebody else’s job, somewhere, to take care of this beautiful ship we call home.

— Elizabeth Fitterer has lived on Vashon for 12 years and is a board member of the Puget Sound Zen Center.