It never ceases to amaze me to see the droves of people who shamelessly gravitate to the rich and famous, the high and mighty. Why are power and pelf like magnets for us lesser mortals?
We become attached to rich men and women, popular stars, personalities in government, even to “the friend of a friend”. Their distant relatives become fair game, as long as they carry a trace of that heady scent.
Why this obsession with people of importance? Does hanging on to their coattails make us feel like VIPs by default? It puzzles me to see how willing some people are to do whatever it takes to get them a step nearer, a rung higher, a breath closer to the stars.
Maybe they hope the shine and luster will rub off on them, or perhaps they wish that the glaring spotlight would shed a little of its brightness on their dull and colorless lives.
Many are satisfied with just getting close to a semblance of power, grateful for a token nod of recognition, or if they are lucky, actually having just a nibble from the privileged class, never mind if they get it second hand or slightly used.
Many of us live our lives vicariously. We get an all-time high just rubbing elbows with very important people. If we can’t shine on our own, we are content to bask in their reflected glory. Pathetic!
It takes all kinds
In every camp there are the passionate believers, ardent and authentic followers, who are willing to lay down their lives for their “idol”.
But God save us from fair-weather fanatics who are in it just for themselves, asking “what is in this for me?”
I wonder how anyone can tell the difference.
In the middle of this circus of opportunists, the main protagonists are overprotected, insulated and detached from reality. We see their dazed look, a pasted smile.
Sadly, they quickly lose what matters most, that hand-in-hand, heart-to-heart contact with the people they claim to care for and have vowed to serve. Meanwhile, offstage someone else pulls the strings. Pity.
It stuns me to see people who have no business seeking public office strutting about like winners, surrounded by well-paid bodyguards, followed by a gaggle of sycophants who attach themselves on the outside chance of victory.
Not too far behind them is that other group—the slimy slippery chameleons that change color depending on the political climate. They seem sincere, but are in fact tentative, biding their time, watching, one foot poised on either side of the fence, just waiting for the cue to jump.
By the time this sees print, all hats will be in the ring. This should be an exciting time. But I feel blah.
No appetite
If some day, soon I hope, I get rid of the malaise that has invaded my soul for all things political, I may still catch the fever. In the meantime, I have no appetite.
What will inspire me? I need to see someone take the higher road, for real, not just for effect.
Mudslinging and name-calling have taken a toll on my illusions. The fight is never classy. Everyone shows his worst side.
I still pray 2016 will be different.
The big day approaches. The lines are drawn. When the smoke clears, will you have friends in high places?
I already do. I pray to Him.
American opera composer Carlisle Floyd says: “People in very high places suddenly fall, and we are always surprised; because we don’t factor in the basic element that they are human and therefore they are flawed and have weaknesses.”
Beware.
Crossroads
A wise man once said that life is all about the choices we make and that we live with the consequences of those choices.
Most are simple. What to eat, what to cook, which book to read? What dress to wear? But it is not always that easy.
None of my choices was ever world-shaking, but a few were life-changing.
I remember, as a child, the difficult ones were easier to make if I closed my eyes. That was how I first I jumped into a pool.
Today I look back on the times I stood at a crossroads in my life. I shudder to see, as if on instant replay, scenes of the times I lunged forward fearless and foolhardy, not pausing, not seeing nor thinking and never looking back. Did I shut my eyes then, too?
I am awed by the grace and mercy of God.
On the road today it is difficult to get too far lost. An app on your phone and a calm voice tells you which turn to take. Sudden thought. What is it that makes men refuse to ask for directions? My writer friend now argues with Waze. Need I tell you how often he gets lost?
Years ago in the middle of my storms, someone told me to read the Bible. I didn’t listen. I discovered, almost too late, that it is indeed the best road map ever given mankind. You must try it.
This made me cry
I read a story online about an old man who went to the mall to have his cell phone repaired. The young man at the counter opened the phone, probed and tested and clicked away.
He returned the man’s phone with a smile. “Sir, I’m happy to tell you that there’s nothing wrong with your phone.”
The old man was not convinced. He looked puzzled and asked: “Then why do my children never call me?”
Sad!
