Let me clarify something from the get go. Come November, I'm going to vote. I believe the millions of Americans who died on the battlefield for that right sacrificed more than I ever will to allow me to exercise that right. And there is a lot at stake in this election. There always is.
But I don't know if my vote will fall in line with the red elephant . . .
Or the blue donkey . . .
Or in a column all by itself . . .
The shocked, collective gasp in cyberspace is ringing in my ears. I get it.
Please don't preach to me about any of the candidates. I KNOW.
And please don't attempt to explain to me what the phrase, "throwing away your vote" means. I also get the why behind the statement and can do the math. The verbiage, "throwing away" is what bothers me the most. Every vote counts, because every life sacrificed for that right, counts.
Allow me to share a little family history. I grew up in a family divided with my mother's side Reagan-supporting Republicans; my father's side Carter-loving Southern Democrats. My parents died young, but thinking back on conversations with my dad, I want to say they more along the lines of conservative independents. For example, in the last election he lived to see, he voted for Ross Perot. Regardless of party affiliation, I was raised to listen, to think, to contemplate, to decide.
Transparency moment coming up so prepare yourselves. At this juncture, I'm fighting the desire to grab each candidate by the ear and send them back to kindergarten, where the genius professors who don't get enough credit, teach about the consequences of lying and bullying and name calling. I have to power through that gut instinct to comprehend the words thrown from the podium—or the thousands of ads—or twitter. Ugh.
And God knows, I'm trying y'all. But processing in the middle of the media, technology, rant and rave reality of 2016 has been beyond challenging. As in, if left to myself, I would end up in the corner—fetal position, blankie and thumb in tow. The other night I walked through our bedroom and my logically thinking independent-voting non-party affiliate husband stood, arms folded, in front of the television listening to a political "interview". I tried to play the ostrich. You know, stick my head in the sand and not listen to the constant talking over, repetitious name-calling and hate banter. But I couldn't. I stopped, book in hand, and stood beside him, attempting to listen.
Three-seconds passed before I looked at him in all seriousness, teary-eyed and said, "I can't do it. I just can't do it."
He nodded his head once and said, "I know."
We weren't referring to the vote. We will vote. What we were referring to was deciphering it all on our own. You see, in that moment we both realized we can't.
But God can.
We will petition Him for His input, His direction, His desire, and come November step out in trust and be obedient.
I don't know what that looks like yet.
But here's what I do know.
I wouldn't have voted for Abraham to be the Father of a nation.
I wouldn't have voted for Moses to lead the Israelites out of captivity.
I wouldn't have voted for David to be king.
I wouldn't have voted for Mary to be the mother of Jesus.
I wouldn't have voted for John to be a prophet announcing the Savior of the world.
And I certainly wouldn't have voted for a carpenter to be said Savior.
None of it made sense on paper.
None of it weighed out logically.
But all of it was God's Will.
I'm on my knees and throwing my vote up to the One who sees the big picture.
Amanda Williams is a forty-year old wife and mother of two who can still swing her pony tail and display just a tad of sass. She is also a Jesus loving girl who realizes she is nothing without the One who saved her. Amanda has two degrees specializing in serving students with special needs and is currently working in the field of Leadership Development. She is a Christian author, speaker, blogger, and publisher who loves serving beside her husband at her local place of worship, First Baptist Church of Ocala.