Why The Election Doesn’t Matter

Caught your attention, didn’t I?

Now, before you call me un-American and say I’m committing treason and allege that I hate the bald eagle, let me proclaim this loud and clear: I AM VOTING. 

But the truth is that “my” candidate has a very, very small chance of winning. (It’s not Chip or Joanna Gaines, though, I WISH). (I don’t mind sharing, it’s Evan McMullin). (Don’t tell me it’s a wasted vote or why I should vote for __________). 

I didn’t write this to justify my vote or to persuade yours

I’m writing it because we all need a little reality check. 

(Me included). 

I admit, I can become a little despaired when thinking that one of “these two” will very likely be our next President. Probably even more so when I think of my sweet son, how he sees them behave, and how they could impact his future. 

Until I had an epiphany not too long ago…

I want you to all think back to your childhoods. Now, depending on how old you were, you could probably name the president when you were a kid. Maybe, if you were in upper elementary school, something they said or did. 

But keep thinking. 

Who taught you the values that inform the decisions you make today?

For me, it wasn’t President Bush (Sr.) or President Clinton. 

It was my parents.

And, I pray, Luke will someday say that about his Daddy and me.

Of course, this election matters for healthcare policy, social issues, and foreign affairs. I’m not discounting that, in fact, my candidate’s stance on all of the above is why he earned my vote. 

There’s a lot of issues that the President impacts outside of our house. But he (or she) doesn’t touch any inside our home. 

You know what Brett and I can do and model for our son, no matter who is president? 

Pray before every meal at our table together. 

Pray at bedtime or any other time. 

Teach him the Bible from Genesis to Revelation. 

Dance to a silly song together. 

Read to him. 

Teach that Jesus loves everyone and God made every soul and race in His image. 

Something as simple as not using foul language. (As a teacher, I can’t tell you how many times I heard words repeated from home and it broke my heart every time…). 

Name-calling? No sir. And use manners. 

Take him to church every Sunday. 

Take a couple of angels off the tree every Christmas. 

Serve. 

Forgive when it’s hard. 

Give a meal to someone in need. 

Write thank-you cards. 

Open the door for others. 

Be a friend to the kid in the cafeteria who is sitting by himself. 

Cheer for Alabama. 

(Okay, that one is optional). 

(Except it’s really not). 

Apologize when we make mistakes (because we already have and certainly will). 

And so will Luke. 

And hopefully, prayerfully someday he will know that his mistake (his sin) was redeemed through Jesus and will choose to follow Him. 

Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, or even Evan McMullin will not be in our home, in our car, or wherever we are to instill those values. 

We will. 

(And certainly with God lighting the way. And many other loved ones by our side. IT TAKES A VILLAGE). 

Maybe for you, it was your grandparents, your aunt, your brother, or even your teacher. 

Unless you lived in the White House with your Daddy who happened to be Mr. President, I highly doubt it was him. 

Last week, we decided we were going to teach Luke, who is a year and half, to put his hands together during our prayer before dinner. We’ve always prayed, but I’ll admit, it’s usually while holding our fork. 

(Please tell me it wasn’t just us). 

So, starting last Monday we put our hands together and would tell our son, “Pray time, buddy! Hands together!” 

He looked at us like we were crazy at first, but already by Thursday, I peeked during our prayer and his little hands were together. 

(Eyes wide open, but baby steps.)

And I kicked my husband under the table to show him, and we both smiled. 

He is watching who matters. 

And he is learning.  


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