At some point, as I have known all along, I simply have to put it in Gods hands. Good old AA. I have suited up and showed up...maybe not perfectly....but just the same; I've done the footwork. Now its God's turn.
Yesterday I got turned down flat 3 times on signatures; one time from a guy I knew. You know--Ron. He says No, he wont endorse me.....he supports Abercrombie. But then complains about the GMO farmers. When I say Abercrombie supports GMOs he still refuses to sign.
It seems like a lot of people can't put 2 and 2 together. I admit I get a little angry,....but there's nothing I can do about that. I realize I'm powerless, and have to let it go at some point.
If god says "No" then 'No' it is. Its his game now. I'm done.
I accept its a different world. It's changed and it's changing still yet. But I am grateful for the old world I lived in, and thought grownups might want to take a look at it...maybe for the last time...and measure its worth, before they cast their children into the abyss of the unknown.
I'm not talking about your grand kids. They will probably be alright; especially with their strong parents. I'm talking about the really young kids, and the ones that haven't got around to being born yet. They're the ones at stake....not us.
So I got a haircut. Told my barber that I wanted to look good for filing, Monday. She's a Buddhist like Jann, shaved head and all, except she's Vietnamese. She has a little temple in her barbershop and she uses it when there's no customers around.
She asks why I'm running. I tell her that I can tell her and she would understand, while most people in Hawaii would not. I tell her that Hawaii is being taken over by Communism and people don't know it. She doesn't miss a clip. She knows Communism and gives me the perfect haircut. I give her a Constitution for her grand kids; but she wants two...so give her another one.After, she invites me to sit on the couch and sits too on the other couch. She says she'll retire soon...3 years...maybe 5 years, and go back to Vietnam. Her accent is thick and English just enough to get by, so I have to listen carefully. Like Jann, she will practice her Buddhist stuff. It's all about her soul. "I send all my money back," she tells me. She doesn't want to have any, when her time comes. She can't take it with her. She only takes her spirit.
"I give it to the blind ones," she tels me. I know which ones shes talking about. I have a stack of photos of them--8x10 glossys. Those are the ones I shared with the Senate Ag committee...sending them into hysterics....all but for Solomon, whose brother died of Agent Orange. She remained calm. I want to cry when I look at them. I tell them "Sorry" like it was my fault....I don't know why. "And I give to the ones that can't speak," she tells me. "They born after. And the ones that can't hear." I don't have photos of those ones.
"From the War?" I ask. "No," she says....then changes her mind, "Yes. From the chemicals."
We're sad. I tell her "They're not done with Vietnam yet." She's not surprised. She knows. It never ends.
I show her my little me4gov flier--U.S. and U.N. flags, side by side, with "OR" in the middle. She considers for a second. "I take this one." She picks the stars and Stripes, touching it with her finger. Of all the hundred-some-odd people who have seen it, she is the first....and only...to actually make "the choice."
"You look good," I guess she is referring to the haircut. "I pray for you. You rest tomorrow. Monday when you go, you go rested...and I pray for you." That makes two bald Buddist ladies who say they will pray for me. Today is my day of rest. Tomorrow I will ride upon their prayers.
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