Change is sweeping our island politics. A sea change, if you will, and Jill Johnson nearly got swept out on the wave.

Last month, Johnson took a razor-thin win for a fourth term as Island County Commissioner, a term that she says will be her last.

“I’ve been told,” Johnson says, “I might be the last Republican in this seat for a while. Politics are shifting here, with more partisan voting on both sides.”

Johnson walks a fine line in that partisan world. Her approach isn’t always taken well, especially by members of her own party. But she credits much of her success — you can’t argue with four straight wins — to her ability to hear, respect and understand diverse voices.

That started when she was a child. Her Oak Harbor family discussed issues openly and often. “I was interested in politics from a young age. It was part of our family culture.”

Political seasons opened with caucuses, which Johnson attended for years before she could cast a vote, and culminated on election night, when her parents took her to the courthouse to watch results come out.

“They had this board with the candidates listed, and the auditor came out with a piece of chalk and wrote all the tallies on the board. In chalk! Can you imagine? And that would be it until the next night.”

Johnson’s fascination with politics, and the search for common good, led to a deep love and devotion for Oak Harbor and its people.

Someone once asked why she didn’t run for mayor. Her answer reveals just where her local roots sit in her heart. “Oak Harbor is much too personal. When I’m criticized, or my opinions are rejected, as county commissioner I can accept it, learn from it, move on. But if that rejection came from my own home town, I don’t think I could take it.”

As a young adult, Johnson served on the late Barney Beeksma’s legislative campaign, followed by jobs that had her traveling too much for her liking.

But home was never far away. “I knew, if life went horribly wrong, I could pick up the phone in any hotel room anywhere and someone from Oak Harbor would come get me.”

She had to see other places to grasp how strongly she was anchored here. So she came home. After a stint at Whidbey Island Bank, Johnson served as executive director of the Oak Harbor Chamber of Commerce. In 2012, she won her first term as county commissioner.

Johnson took it seriously from Day One.

“The moment Judge Hancock swore me in, I felt physically different. I became the least important person in my life.”

That began 12 years of listening, prioritizing and taking action on the issues that mean the most to Island County. Those years have taught Johnson to focus on opportunities and challenges the commission can actually address. And she’s gone through some deep introspection along the way.

Voters end up “taking who they get; no candidate is perfect for every voter,” she says. “I’m part of ‘we the people’ too, and even I can’t always vote perfectly, even for me!” Johnson’s eyes twinkle with the irony. “There’s no magic. I have no special power just because I hold office.”

On being imperfect, Johnson shares her take on a politician’s need for a thick skin. Personal attacks, she says, are “harder on my family than they are on me.” That’s common; experienced politicians steel themselves to catch flak for taking a stand, any stand.

But to Johnson, “thick skin” is a misnomer. “If I’m so thick-skinned that I ignore you so you can’t hurt me, then I’m not listening to you. If the only people we elect are those who don’t listen, we only elect narcissists. If you complain to me, I should listen. And I should let it affect me.”

Here again, the vulnerable human Jill Johnson comes out. There are plenty of folks on Whidbey whose attacks she’s learned to weather. But “some people, the ones I’ve come to respect and look up to, would break me if they were disappointed in me.”

Johnson lives at the crossroads of conservative principles and Christian faith. “My faith determines my values,” she says, “but it doesn’t build roads.”

“Accountability,” for example, “is love. Does that mean we rank people on their perceived contributions to society? Of course not. We tax ourselves as a collective approach to solving our problems. Then we have to make tough decisions about who is most important to serve.”

Whidbey’s progressives have struggled with Johnson on environmental restrictions. While she believes in protecting our earth, Johnson sees hypocrisy in overregulation. “Every new law brings vast increases in cost,” she says, citing restrictions that might protect air and water and wildlife, but stifle development. “We say we want to keep our rural character, but we may make it so expensive in doing so that Whidbey is nothing but a playground for the wealthy.”

That dynamic plays out regularly for Johnson, who has an uncanny ability to understand and value multiple perspectives.

“I try to push back on one-sided conversations, hear more voices, listen to real people and their concerns.” Instead of driving full throttle on the commission’s self-determined priorities, Johnson asks, “what space do we hold for diverse voices? That will determine where we are, years from now.”

Johnson doesn’t flinch when asked if she could create an ideal Whidbey leader who can unite our community for common good.

“Open to new ideas, ego free, able to turn those ideas into action. They should know their own limits and empower others to lead alongside them. They need to be passionate and committed,” she pauses with that twinkle in her eyes again, “without taking themselves too seriously.”

After all she’s achieved in 12 years, why run again?

“We still have big things to do, and my experience is needed.” Johnson cites land use planning, a new jail and behavioral health solutions. She sees her horizon coming, and says she needs to focus on those priorities and “learn to say no to other things.”

Johnson chuckles at our final question: Four years from now, what’s next?

“I hadn’t really thought about that until the numbers showed me losing on election night. I actually called county HR for help with my resume and asked them, ‘What am I good at?’”

It seems like this Oak Harbor girl could always lean back into what she knew years ago. Pick up the phone, and your community, your people, will have your back.

William Walker’s monthly “Take a Breath” column seeks paths to unity on Whidbey Island in a time of polarization. Walker lives near Oak Harbor and is an amateur author of four unpublished novels, hundreds of poems, and a stage play. He blogs occasionally at www.playininthedirt.com.