T’was the morning of the primary election which will decide the whole thing, and it’s been a long eight months with roughly three days off. I have a deep faith in God’s will, and figured it was out of my hands. The voters will speak, and I’d be good with it, one way or t’other.
Ten days earlier, I’d gotten over 12 days of fever, largely miserable in bed, and I was heading over to get yet another 30-min return Covid test at Walgreens. I had invited supporters to an outdoor party, with lots of social distancing, but I wanted to get another confirm-the-confirmation, make-absolutely-sure-not-contagious test to go along with my well-past-symptoms status. I pull into line, and I read the text that had arrived enroute.
It’s from my cousin Tim Fox, who’s served about a billion years (or so it seems) as a circuit court judge in Arkansas. Brilliant man, a man of God and goodness, wit and snappy comebacks. (And, if you read any of his novels, a man of words. Very Big Words.)
I confess my eyes got a bit leaky, sitting there in line for the Covid test. Fearing choking up but knowing I had to share his wisdom (because truly, you can apply the essence of it to your own Big Challenges), I had my dear friend Joe Bell read it to everyone that night. So here goes:
From Tim Fox:
So, today is the day. The day that was absolutely never going to get here and now it’s finally upon you. You’ve worked your ass off. Left no stone unturned. Sure your paranoia tells you there may have been a few that weren’t flipped but it’s not true.
Those who believe in you, who love you, who cherish your friendship have rallied behind you in your effort.
They don’t want accolades, nor applause. They want you to win because they know you and truly believe that you would do a superlative job in the elected office.
I have always had to fight myself on Election Day. I want to hold a sign until the last poll closes. My advice is don’t do it.
Take donuts and coffee and water and cruise around thanking your poll workers. But you need to personally shut things down a couple of hours before the polls close, leaving the last to a trusted lieutenant.
You need to go home and take a long hot shower, wash and dry your hair, consume some calories and maybe have a small glass of wine. And make sure you spend some time on your knees.
Because at the party tonight they need you present. They don’t need you ragged all to hell exhausted. They need you present and full of energy to greet them and thank them. All of that made more difficult because of the virus (but of course you should presently be immune.)
We are all competitive people. Maybe especially the two of us. The vote today is not a referendum on who you are. It’s a popularity contest governed by the rules of economics and media.
One of my two favorite Old Testament verses is from Ecclesiastes.
“The race is not to the swift, Nor the battle to the strong, Nor bread to the wise, Nor riches to men of understanding, Nor favor to men of skill; But time and chance happen to them all.”
Time and chance happen to us all, Holly. You will be the same child of God tomorrow morning that you were at today’s dawn. God loves you, your family loves you, and your friends love you.
And every single one of us is proud of the effort you have made.
