Pity a Poor Barbarian

A step of faith

I must admit, yesterday I relived portions of July 3rd. That good ole' knot had found its way back into the pit of my stomach.

Here was my frame of mind yesterday:
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Sarah, take a moment to pity a poor barbarian. I'm with ya girl, but you're giving me butterflies.

Sarah's about to take a huge leap off a 300 thousand foot cliff with a whole herd of ordinary Americans strapped to her back who don't know if they're gonna make it, but they know they're goin' with her. For us, she's the only game in town. Sink or swim, we're in this for keeps.

Simply put, no one else is worth supporting. I'm with Dennis Miller.

When Palin was first picked, Miller said, "I like this pick, I think it's going to result in a victory. If it doesn't, I'm willing to go down swinging with a dame like that."

Me too, Miller. Me too.

I've never been one for rollercoasters, but I'm on one now. I feel like that moment in Indiana Jones where he has to step out into the chasm and can't see the bridge. Only Sarah doesn't tentatively step; she runs like a bullet train and jumps for all she's worth. And yep, we're right behind her. I can't see the bridge, maybe there isn't one, but here we go!

Doesn't mean I'm not going to squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath for the first few minutes, but I'm still jumpin'. Hold on tight gang. When it comes to Sarah, the regular rules don't apply. I have no idea what's in store, but I know this: we're in for one unforgettable ride.

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Anyway, that was my mindset yesterday. Today, the butterflies have flown away, and a new attitude has taken firm hold.

The look back I posted below was going to be much longer. I had a whole post ready for Sarah and Sean's history too, but I then realized that there's no time. We don't have the luxury of living in the past. Our country is at stake.

Sarah Palin served Alaskans for just two and a half years. I believe those years were her boot camp, her training ground for the battle that was coming up over the horizon. And boy did her training ramp up this last year.

There's a battle to be fought, a general who needs to lead the charge, and now is no time to dwell on the past. The Governorship of Alaska was not an end in and of itself; it was her preparation. A time to hone her skills and a time to be tested.

Would it have been nice to have a few extra weeks of boot camp, just to be sure you're ready? Perhaps. But when the enemy is pressing in upon you at such a rate that to wait any longer would be to surely lose, you don't have that luxury.

So, boot camp has been survived; graduation day is here. The troops are ready now. But they won't be going back to safe bunkers tonight. No, now they go to war. Prepared, heartened, and committed, they see with a laser focus the duty that must be done.

Freedom must be spared. Somewhere on this planet there must remain a piece of land where men can be free to live as they were meant to. Free to worship and speak and think and work according to the dictates of their own conscience, so long as their freedom does not infringe on another's.

The spirit of liberty that found a home in 1776 is looking for a home again now. It's been kicked out of Washington D.C. and is on the march. All of a sudden I hear a distant fife and drum, and my foot begins to tap.

There will come a day when the forces of evil snuff out liberty until God Himself brings it back, never to be lost again. There will come a time when the good will grow weary of fighting and will slip into a slumber from which they will not wake until the very angels must trumpet them back to their feet. Make no mistake; evil will have its day.

Today is not that day.

Today we fight. And if we fail, surely others will take up our cause, build upon our blood (figuratively speaking) and march on.