"Linked..................................."

……

Some light rain overnight producing a damp early a.m. chill the last few mornings has had this old man turning on the electric heater that sits beside my recliner. The fireplace directly behind it got to be too much heat going up the chimney and I sealed it off a few years back. We have two more of these plug-ins strategically placed in the house, but this is one of those that, besides supplying warmth, gives an illusion of burning logs. Usually Halloween gets here before any serious winter weather arrives, but everywhere you look there are signs …. Omens. Indications that give possible evidence, warning of what is to be. You look in the mirror and realize this is not the same fellow who once stared back at me. A couple of times up and down the basketball court let you know that it’s no longer a game your lungs can handle. The news channel begins to sound like sermons they preached to you forty years ago, chapter and verse taken right out of your Bible. Then again, there is much that can come to you with little warning and often seemingly with no particular reason as to why you and not the other person… I rode with my oldest daughter’s family this morning over to Cincinnati, joining some ten thousand people registered for a 3K Women’s Breast Cancer Walk, starting from a point near the Paul Brown Stadium, crossing over to Kentucky and back via two different bridges. My own attire was without any announcement. My mind, alone, recalled a friend taken by this disease, leaving five children without their mother. Around me, though, was a sea of pink shirts all adorned with such slogans as “Hope for Harriet” or “Saving second base for Mary”, others simply proclaiming “Aunt Lois” or “Mom” with dates inscribed beneath. Squads of cheerleaders encouraged us along the entire route, from uniformed little diddles waving pompoms to a motorcycle group near the end revving their engines and honking. Hearts were joined. It was an emotional event… Some, like the one man in our Bible study Wednesday evening, tell it as if, as believers, we are guaranteed deliverance from all harm. When David’s infant son was sick, the warrior king fasted and prayed, declaring “Who can tell whether God be gracious to me?” Even so I see it. He who knows all things goes with us through all things, that in such connection we might find strength for whatever awaits us in the next step. It works for me......

"GPS..................................."

Faith being a matter of individual perspective, and the latter being a product of humanity such as it is, it occurred to me, after yesterday’s post, that perhaps it might be helpful to examine my own bit of definition concerning “sin”. Lord knows: everyone is welcome to their own view; or at least my Bible seems to point to that being the case. God has thus far opted to allow us freedom in choosing each step that we take and asks only that we invited Him along for the journey. Of course, while I find the Book a personal manual, part of the package that comes to us in this, others quite often tend to in terms of a denominational score-card, salvation possible only if one lines up with their list of requirements taken from their understanding of the text. For me, though, while fellowship certainly plays a part in this, from the beginning it was never about joining a club. In that sense, then, what separates me from God is not “what I do”, but “what I am”. What? Has this old man recently robbed a bank, committed adultery, or killed someone? Let’s just tell it like it is: in eighteen more days I turn seventy-one and arguing with anybody is just wasted energy. My finances aren’t anything to boast about; but we always seem to have enough to spoil the grandkids and take a small vacation. I love my wife! I really do! Nonetheless, Christ “in” me in no way eliminated “me”. My humanity is still here and every day is a walk down the straight path wherein it’s possible for me to think myself now “sanctified and set free from me” or to realize my continual need of His tug on the anchor-line. The felony is the same on either side of the Cross. Jesus purchased for all men everywhere a top of the line “Salvation Cadillac”. It comes with an awesome warranty and beats everything else on the road. While many refuse the offer, what seems just as sad is the number of those who drive it with no invitation for the Creator to join them in the journey, seeking Him only when misfortune meets them along the way. Some people, sadly, seem to think bumper stickers and a “handicapped” permit to hang on the rear-view mirror sufficiently “seals the deal”………

"Steeples......................."

My sister was in for the weekend and we enjoyed dinner at my nephew’s yesterday afternoon, helping her celebrate her 70th a few months early. Although she lives just outside Miami, she remains a Bengals fan, so, along with some quality conversation, we also watched them win one by the skin of their nose. Usually I visit the nephew’s church with them when she is in town, but with such a long interim between our scheduled visits to the Detention Center, my apology was all they got concerning an invitation there. It’s a new “off-shoot” of the one they’ve attended in Cincinnati for years now, the three of them strongly invested into its ministries and outreach, This one is on the Kentucky side of the river, closer to home, a huge business-gone-bankrupt building remodeled for worship, attendance already well over what they expected at first. Beth doesn’t like it, their doctrinal values too far from her own upbringing. I understand; but admit to hearing great sermons both times we have gone with them. That said: with our own pastor gone again last night, one of the preachers who sit in abundance among the members of our congregation had been given the pulpit and, in truth, the experience took me back a few decades. A Tennessee-Alabama native originally spawned in central Florida, there’s no mistaking such roots when he opens his mouth to speak. Without resorting to jokes, he manages to insert humor into his message without losing your belief that what he speaks comes from his heart; and all that’s missing from old-time holiness is the “hack”, that vocal gasping for breath in between every other sentence. In truth, I found myself standing with him several times, giving him my support from the balcony. It was an up-and-down, yoyo agreement, however, for while his words pointed to a religious system off-track, he continually indicated it was the “other guys”, not us, who stood guilty of his indictment; and when, nearly forty-five minutes into it, still just telling it as he sees it, the man began to insist that being “born-again” meant a believer no longer sinned in any form or fashion, this fellow just left. From the start, there’s never been a doubt in my head about “amazing” coming far short in describing God’s grace; but, in like manner, one might just as well have trouble searching out an adequate adjective for His patience with us. We are, indeed, a “peculiar” people……

"Hamsters......................"

“The closer we grow to death, the more closely we follow the news. Year after year, without ever reckoning the hours I wasted last week or last year, I read the morning paper, I buy mass psychotherapy in the form of the lie that this is a banner year. Or is it God-save-us-from-crazies aromatherapy? I smell the rat, but cannot walk away....... It is life’s noise, the noise of the news, that sings ‘It’s a Small World After All’ again and again to lull you and cover the silence while your love boat slips off into the dark…… The blue light of television flickers on the cave wall. If the fellow crawls out of the cave, what does he see? Not the sun itself, but night and the two thousand visible stars. Once, I tried to converse with him, the fellow who crawled out of his blue-lit cave to the real world. He had looked into this matter of God. He had to shout to make himself heard: ‘How do you stand the wind out here?’… I don’t. Not for long. I drive a school-kids’ car pool. I shouted back ‘I don’t! I read Consumer Reports every month!’ It seemed unlikely that he heard. The wind blew into his face and he turned to face the lee. I do not know how long he stayed out. A little at a time does it for me, a little every day.”……Annie Dillard, “For the Time Being”

Saturday morning here, with a return visit to the Detention Center scheduled for tomorrow. Whether the group will be separating into two again, splitting our hour there between four different isolated cells, is a matter yet to be discovered. After prayer and reading my Bible, though, I was still left with no more than those “I am the door” thoughts shared with the men at the mission Wednesday evening. How, then, to bring that to those young teens? The author above, one of my favorite, came to mind; and her words here, captured from a previous excursion, now caught my attention once again. However this might speak to someone else, it registers with me, for within it I see humanity as it is. Truthfully, within it I see much of the Church, myself, even, if not for the frequent prod of His staff, the tug on His anchor-line. Somehow, unless God takes me elsewhere, this goes with me to the kids……

"Roots........................"

I am firmly convinced that this election in November is going to be a crucial one, the future of this nation being weighed in the balance. While it certainly can be conceded that previous occupants of the White House may well hold some of the responsibility for this mess we are facing, it is beyond me how anyone can look at the last four years and think the current President is worthy of another term. Say what you want; but more and more what we are watching across the northern continent of Africa is the birthing of a huge United Muslim entity that will merge with its Mid-East brethren and, should they decide to attack America en-masse, we won’t have the money or the military to do much about it. Is Obama blind to such possibility? Surely he isn’t mentally motivated to see it happen? After seeing him and administration blatantly lie time and time again with no remorse, no repentance, having noted how he gives the Constitution no respect and ignores all the rules with a claim of having “executive privilege”, and being in awe of “change” amounting to a complete lack of ethics in accomplishing whatsoever, though, I’ve come to believe: if we don’t take this country back in November, my children and grandchildren’s future is in great danger. Hasn’t Washington politics always been amoral and each party seemingly more concerned about battling each other than working together for the good of the people, full of graft and self-interest? Only the system as originally structured has held us together, checks and balances along with God’s patience seeing us come this far. Under this man, it all has been thrown out the window while he kisses the feet of those who would do us harm. Only my faith in His divine hand gives me peace in the matter, my heart believing that, whatever happens, we can trust in Him……

"Mission..................."

Feeling like Dave giving opportunity for the men, themselves, to testify the last time we were at the mission was God ordained, tonight I opened up with an “a cappella” go at “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus” and then repeated the invitation. Only two or three responded, but their words did seem to “set the stage” for what the others in our group shared. Dave went to Isaiah 53 to speak of “by His stripes we are healed”, emphasizing the truth that, indeed, more than physical sickness falls within the scope of that statement. Mark then brought forth two more old hymns on his sax, the melody flowing over us like honey from above; and Tony, in utilizing stories and events out of his own life, reinforced the initial theme. Being “saved” doesn’t mean we automatically lose our humanity. It still remains a journey wherein we need the reality of what He really bought for us through the Cross…. That left me with less than ten minutes; but, in truth, it was just about tailor-made for the thought on my heart. I spoke of three friends currently facing tragic events, the truth of all of us, however, knowing “darkness” within in some form or fashion, this world a mystery through which we pass and Christ an inner “reconnection” with our Father. “Faith” isn’t a “long-distance” relationship, but a door mentioned in Revelations, one said to be “open” and yet, at the same time, one where Jesus stands and knocks. To understand such contradiction, we only have to turn to John’s Gospel where are told that He IS “the door”, a divine portal whereby we might initiate our salvation, a passageway to which we are to return on a regular basis, going “in and out”, the Shepherd’s sheep finding pasture therein. Closing in prayer was a communal flow, all of us one in Him…..

"Hindsight......................."

A guard met us at the front foyer Sunday morning, informing us that, while church service would not be canceled, it would have to be undertaken in somewhat different manner. We have known for several months that three of the present inmates are being held on murder charges. Until now, that fact, though, had changed nothing in so far as our gathering en-masse in the recreation room. Whether someone high in the chain of command had decided that scenario was too dangerous, or whether serious altercations had taken place between the kids was not part of our orientation on this occasion, however. The escort merely told us that, for the last few weeks, these young adults have been isolated in four separate cell blocks and she would now do her best to accommodate us in whatever manner we wished to approach the problem. The two ladies in my group give us value in having a female presence with us in case the girls, who now occupied one of those units, asked for prayer; but neither have ever addressed them thus far with so much as a testimony. They would both, nonetheless, want to be there for that particular space (indeed, they both needed to be there); so, in trying to quickly to divide us in our mission, when Tony chose the boys over partnering with his wife, I went with the women splitting the quartet with him, Big Bob, and my son-in-law Mark. In hindsight, haste doesn’t always give you the Holy Ghost. In truth, the others spoke, afterwards, of a good experience with their two half-hour settings; but this old man feels like more would have been accomplished he had simply just sent Deb and Jackie in alone with no male presence there. It doesn’t always take a “sermon”. It just takes a “connection”, horizontally and vertically; and there is no doubt in my mind about those two being able to handle that. You live. You learn. We return again this Sunday, not all the same faces and Nan (not quite my age) the only representative of her gender, but both a “talker” and a “petitioner” who knows Him well…..

"Enigmas.............................."

We are now sixteen days into this “Through the Bible in 120 Days” that our Wednesday evening class has adopted. This week revival services canceled the second meeting and my small group will be with the men at the rescue mission next time around, but I’m already eight days ahead according to the schedule given us. Admittedly, all those genealogies have been skimmed. As far as that goes, that long list of what “thou shall and shall not do”, all the details on building a tabernacle, all those instructions on what to sacrifice and who to stone, somehow it didn’t seem necessary to consume it word for word. We were told to read, not to study. Discussion and the Holy Ghost, Himself, would provide the “manna” when we came together. My manner of consumption, therefore, has likewise been to follow that “inner tug”, slowing down to catch the “meat”, collecting thoughts and questions as they come to me, putting them on paper for future digestion whether with others in this particular literary journey or, as now, with whomsoever drops by this isolated dot on the Internet. Indeed, that which is on my mind this morning, more than halfway through the Book of Numbers, is the striking difference between the God one finds in the Old Testament and that one who is presented us in the New Testament through Jesus Christ. It’s not a discovery just made. I’ve taught this sacred volume from cover to cover at least three or four times. That doesn’t mean, however, that this old man has conquered Scripture in all that it brings to us. My brain is still puzzled as to an omniscient Creator who knows beforehand His own work of grace yet to be set in place, but initiates the whole scenario by ordering the slaughter of entire nations, men, women, and children, indeed, some of it in the form of judgments and plagues upon the Jews, themselves. What brings me peace in the matter is that fact of it being a mystery, that plus the tangible knowledge of His character and compassion which meets and assures me here as I go…….

"Guardian Angels............"

There is no traffic signal at either end of the mile and a half stretch of the old highway where we live, this little section lost by the county, nobody important enough back here to warrant spending the money. Rush hour, on both ends of the day, is usually crammed with bumper-to-bumper automobiles going sixty mph and there’s no safe escape available. You’re almost better off if the flow clogs up. At least then people find it no big deal to make a hole for the guy with nowhere to go. This morning was one of those “miracles”, however, just a couple of vehicles on the road. Indeed, when that happens, it tends to make one wonder if you perhaps looked at your watch wrong or somehow got confused and it’s really the weekend. On this occasion, though, it got even freakier. My usual route that I drive to school is punctuated by no less than nine lights, the whole question of how long it takes me to traverse such commute depending a lot upon the number of those that force me to stop along the way. Today, though, it was as if the heavens opened and Moses waved his staff over northern Kentucky to part the Red Sea before me! I don’t think that has ever happened before in eleven years of travelling to and from this job. Did God really clear me a path through the wilderness? Probably not; but I do admit to living each day with an awareness of His presence and can look back to at least three times in early years where this old man shouldn’t have made it past his teens. Yet, what does one do with those four or five minor accidents that did occur? What about the fall from the hay-wagon that nearly killed my youngest daughter? The “bad stuff”? For me, it all comes down to: things happen; and as they do, He is in the middle of it all with me, my manna from heaven, my peace when storms begin to blow……..

"Connected......."

I’m not sure from what perspective the author of the quote here so penned these words. A friend of mine, though, after losing her son not all that long ago, recently captured a rare phenomenon with her camera and then merged the two together, trying to express through an image what God is doing in her life. Such tragedy is not familiar to me. I can only imagine. The message, as it is presented, however, speaks to this old man. Not only is our existence one wherein, almost from the cradle to the grave, trying to put meaning to the world around us and our days as they come to us seems futile, but it’s for sure that often we find it hard to explain ourselves in the middle of it all. We are a “vessel void of light” on a journey taking us through a dense fog. So where is the “gift” in this scenario?

I never could comprehend why the Creator, if He knows the future before it even happens, allowed Adam and Eve to so sin in the Garden; but what the last four decades of walking in this has taught me, more than anything else, is: the Father has my hand. If it has been a stumble down the path for the most part, if questions about me, about the Church, and about an “infallible” Book in the hands of a fallible humanity have left me scratching my head many times along the way, it has also been a lesson in progress, teaching me my need of His rod and staff, a maturing, ever so slowly, in the knowledge of His grace. Looking back increases faith, allowing one to rest in whatever lies ahead; the well within to which one returns for assurance…..

"Linked............................".

This is my eleventh year working as an assistant in an Elementary Special-Ed unit. Along the way I have been bounced back and forth between two different rooms, it all depending on just where the school needed me the most and this time around being the fourth time such transition has occurred. That said, finding myself under the direction of a teacher not only new to me, but also one who is a big change from the lady in charge the last time I was stationed in this location, has been challenging only in the sense of yet not being assigned any special schedule. Each day seems to possess its own agenda, each not quite the same as the one before, no repetition in so far as ever knowing exactly what to do. Nonetheless, being flexible has always been a part of this and, to tell the truth, I’m not only enjoying the kids, I’m comfortable with the position as it stands. As it turns out, this fellow is about twenty-five, married, and a Catholic who lives what he believes. The two of us certainly have enough to keep us occupied otherwise between unloading and loading our five on the big yellow bus; but that doesn’t mean our dialogue for seven hours is restricted to the job at hand. I’ve learned that he is a “fan” of Thomas Merton, that he is open to “Christ in me”, and that we have much in common when it comes to seeking the reality of God in our life. While our faith is packaged in individual boxes, our journey and our environment bringing it to us from opposite perspectives, yet conversation doesn’t turn into argument, an inner connection maintained through the Holy Ghost. He’s searching out “contemplation” and “meditation”; I talk of being “baptized in the Spirit”; and a minute or two here and there is certainly no Bible study. We are not neglecting that which we are being paid to do. It’s just nice finding common ground for chat as we mosey down the trail……

"Through the Veil................."

”We can only understand what we perceive in its totality.”

It’s Saturday morning here, the world outside my door looking soaked from the thunder storm that blew through the neighborhood last night. Unless the sun emerges later, an exercise walk around the soccer field will probably have to be put on hold until tomorrow. Beth got out of bed about half an hour ago, stepped into the living room to comment on the weather, and then retreated once again to the comfort of her covers. My mind, though, has been occupied since almost dawn, fifteen chapters in Exodus conquered and such pace putting me a week ahead of what the new class requires. According to our teacher, we are to simply read, not study as we go, our goal being merely to traverse the volume in the space allotted. Questions and answers in the form of discussion will occur as we come together each Wednesday; and, if it continues as it did during our first meeting, it should be interesting. People offered their own definitions for what the Bible means to them, several of them, as far as I’m concerned, needing a bit more clarification. When a man wants to call it “his” sword, for example, he might want to read the Book again, for Paul plainly named it as belonging to the Spirit. Minor detail, I suppose; and I know that we grow as we go; but it’s easy in this to get side-tracked by simple un-truths that men pull out of the Bible… We stumble in a lot of ways, our vision not always 20/20. It is now late in the evening. Beth is watching television in the other room with our granddaughter and I’m finishing this post after having been to that new Dinesh D’Souza movie “2016” early this afternoon. It simply offered an opinion as to the mindset of this President and what might happen if he gets reelected, a scenario long pondered by this old man; and God help us if does come to pass……

"Radial Waves............................."

Last night, when I went to bed, it looked like my youngest daughter and her husband would have to take their three children out of the church school. It worried me how my grandchildren would receive the news, but I do realize the financial strain it has been on their parents. This whole past year, for that matter, has challenged them in one way or another. It was late, though, when it all came to me. My brain was numb and trying to connect with God about the matter seemed in vain, my words not much more than mumbled in an attempt to express my concern. Melissa’s faith has seemed to be on a continual emotional rollercoaster through everything and my worry over that was just another heavy weight needed to be laid at His feet. Sleep did finally overtake me, though, and morning brought a brand new day. There are those, no doubt, who would criticize me in what I say here; but one of the best “closets” this old man has ever utilized and therein found success in catching the hem of His garment is my automobile. Admittedly, it is no place to experience full immersion into the Holy Ghost. Thus far, however, the Almighty has shown great wisdom in not allowing that to happen while I’m negotiating rush hour traffic on the expressway. Nonetheless, it remains that, within such space, the two of us are, indeed, in “our own little world” and there is no problem with my mind navigating the road around me and, at the same time, fusing itself into two-way communication with Him. Tears get in my eyes and run down my face. Sometimes tongues is a given, an “in-and-out” effortless occurrence that just happens along the way. Today it didn’t get quite that deep and the whole conversation probably lasted about ten minutes or less; but when the car and I returned home this afternoon, my wife informed me that the situation had been solved. Was it due to my having broken through the wall? My brief “stop at the oasis” is nothing to brag about. In truth, what it did, if nothing else, was to give me peace in going about business as usual, knowing it was all deposited in His account, His grace and wisdom a dependable place of rest no matter what the future held……

"Enigma......................"

Driving to school this morning, I passed an elderly woman who sported a bumper sticker on her car that read “What would Ernest Tubb do?” She really didn’t appear to be all that much older than me, but that name takes me back to pre-television days, riding around in my father’s automobile and listening to the Grand Ole Opry on the radio. I remember commercials for Hadacol, a 12% alcohol based vitamin supplement, Carter’s Liver Pills, somebody trying to sell people baby chicks , and an announcer who was always telling you to “keep those cards and letters coming in”. Ernie, thought, was known as “the Texas Troubadour” and, other than making a name for himself in Country and Western music, once tried to shoot his Nashville producer, but missed and hit the wrong man. That being the gist of it, it leaves me wondering just what this lady had in mind with her rear-end inquiry. Had she written some song and wondering how to break into the big-time? Hopefully it had nothing to do with a disappointment in this country’s present sad state of affairs and a .357 magnum kept in her glove compartment. You never know nowadays. I do admit to, although smiling about the event, putting my foot down a little heavier on the gas pedal and putting some distance between me and grandma……

"Details.............................."

Between yesterday and today, I’ve put several hours into the making of a “Genesis Genealogy Chart” that shows the length of life enjoyed by Adam and his next twenty descendants. Marking that initial point of the first man being created as “Year Zero” and then graphing each fellow’s birth and death thereafter, the final product yields several points of interest. It becomes quite evident, for example, to see that Noah was first human being who could no longer converse with his great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, his existence not starting until over a century after Adam’s passing. I also think it neat to actually visualize the sudden change in longevity after the flood, an immediate drop of more than three hundred years coming to Shem, then a gradual reduction until, by the time Abraham comes along, it’s just one-fourth of what those initial ten branches of the family tree knew. Three or four times, with the project nearly complete, an error would catch my attention and it was necessary to start all over from scratch and some might wonder why the old man would devote such labor to information that in no way affects our salvation. In truth, if no one else in our “Through the Bible Class” that begins tomorrow night finds any attraction to it, the picture speaks to me. It’s but one of many things within Scripture that bear witness with a salvation that just makes sense, a faith proven, not just by that inner connection with the Holy Ghost, but also by a written Word that brings to me again and again a sure foundation for the journey......

"Super Glue................."

”What is the one common factor that unites us as believers? God's word with the principles and standards of living written within it! If we all align our life accordingly, we are united as one with little effort.”

My brother’s youngest daughter and her husband stopped for a visit yesterday on their way back to Virginia, their home just a few miles outside our nation’s capitol. Both hold good jobs within that city, the economy, other than gas prices, having not hurt them too much. They were driving a new blue Corvette convertible and spoke of being able to retire next year, wanting to tour the country before perhaps building a home somewhere in the Caribbean Islands. When I mentioned politics at one point, he spoke to me of “one man not being able to be held accountable when our system, itself, provided such checks and balances”. We left it at that. I do love them both. Still, I do admit to wondering how anyone could be so blind to a Democratic-controlled Congress during the last four years having given complete freedom to an abundant misuse of “executive privilege”, no challenge at all exercised in the middle of this mess we’re in. It’s amazing to me just how much we all seem to see only what we want to see, to hear only what we want to hear. For “intelligent” creatures, we live in our own little worlds, oblivious to all until reality affects us in some way. Indeed, I find it no different in the Church. As believers, we, as well, construct our individual perspectives out of Biblical chapter and verse, gathering in faith with those who agree with us in our views... My initial quote here was recently posted on Face Book by my pastor in Pensacola. I love him and his family dearly, but would not hesitate to disagree with him about such thought. One has only to look around to determine that the Word, in the minds of humanity, has divided us, not just into multiple segments of Christianity, but “First and Second Baptist” as well. Christ, however, did not come to create a religion, but to connect us with the Creator; and, in truth, we have the same situation in our sanctuary as we do in D.C.: Unity occurs when men come together in Him, bonded through His Spirit alive and working in us, leading us in our stumble down the road……

"Patriotism......................."

If my parents ever voted in any election, it was without any awareness on my part of their being registered to do so. From early on, there was enough adult conversation overheard for me to know my whole family considered themselves Democrats, the other side representing “big money”, rich people who held no concern for the working class. With Dad’s sudden death, however, I dropped out of college, joined the Navy, married, and took no interest in politics until, at the age of thirty, my perspectives were drastically changed. Initially adopting the blue party because of my “roots” and a railroad that demanded union membership, this man’s mind was nevertheless not always faithful to such commitment. My conversion to Christ had me trying my best to hear His voice in the matter; and yet my choices, in retrospect, always left me thinking nothing was accomplished. Indeed, after two consecutive terms of Reagan and seeing nothing altered in so far as the Roe-Wade decision, after watching him, as well, use executive authority to “kill” the air-controllers, I simply took my name “out of the game”. My participation didn’t seem to change anything much at all. D.C. was filled with corruption, as far as I was concerned, and prayer worked much better than the ballot box, a theology that sufficed for twenty years. It would take my wife’s passion to see Bush in the Oval Office to draw me back into this, my faith, not her, leading me to re-enlist as a Republican this time around. If my opinion yet held little respect for our “leaders” as a whole, at least, here and there, I held hope. It took only Obama, along with Acorn and the Black Panthers, however, to convince me that the Mafia now held the White House, Barney Frank, Harry Reid, and Nancy Pelosie being their three main “stooges”. So it has done me well, the last few days, to listen to governors like Martinez and Haley, former Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice, and Senator Marco Rubio, speak at the Republican Convention. Their words came from an experience known deep within and witnessed to me of a belief yet held in those values upon which this country draws its breath and maintains its existence. If Mitt Romney appears but a “businessman”, he is one with a love of God and family, one possessing a heart desperate to repair the breach in our system. Maybe, just maybe, in the middle of all the mess that inhabits those halls, there is yet hope of change to come. Real change. Change in character. Change we can respect……