July 28, 2008


I placed the stapled cone-shaped piece of paper on my head and stepped up to a giant decaying wall.  I looked to my right and left and saw people doing exactly what they were trained to do day after day.  I saw people shed a tear for something more private than their deepest secrets of insecurities, but rather their faith.  I ran my hands over the cracks that would appear to be drenched with notes you pass to your friend in the classroom, maybe these are where the confiscated notes end up.  

I then repeated after a stranger words I once repeated the same way during my childhood.  I reached in my pocket and pulled out a torn piece of paper from a journal I kept on my travels.  I unfolded it and read it one last time, and then placed my only truly religious moment I have ever meant into the wall.  It was not a validation of god's existence, but rather a moment of "What if..."  A moment where I played the odds of faith, knowing it is impossible to ever know, it can't hurt to believe at this moment.

When Barack Obama placed his most pure thoughts and prayers into the wall, I doubt he was thinking it was just another political stunt to get a cheap vote.  Now that we know what lies under a popular politician, what do we decipher from it?  In the end, I think we all end up asking for the same thing, believer or not.

"Lord, protect my family and me.  Forgive me my sins and help me guard against pride and despair.  Give me the wisdom to do what is right and just.  And make me an instrument of your will."

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