The Ballot

I remember when I was of age to vote.
I remember the thrill of being able to go into the voting booth by myself.
When I was little, I went into the voting booth with my mother.
I never understood the levers she pulled or why she needed to close the curtain.

She explained something about privacy.
She explained something about the fact that it was a privilege to vote.
She never talked about her choices.
She only talked about its importance.

By the time I was able to vote, my mother had died three years before.
She got her message across.
Voting is important.
Voting is a privilege.

It was primary election day.
Anyone would know that without even looking at the calendar.
The roadsides are covered with signs.
Names and more names dot the highway.

The signs are placed in strategic places.
The signs are usually at busy intersections.
I guess there is the hope that simple name recognition will happen.
I guess no one fears a bit of overkill.

I have various resources I use to keep me informed before I vote.
I appreciate the hard work that goes into interviewing the candidates.
It is helpful to know where they stand on the issues.
It is helpful for me to see where they stand on the issues for which I am passionate.

On primary election day, I had my phone in hand.
I knew that I could look at the voters guide, which always proves so helpful.
The voters guide simply shows the candidate’s answers to various questions.
From those answers, I can discern much about the candidate.

As I walked into the polling place, a sample ballot was given to me.
I always find that helpful to have on hand.
I walked up to the table and gave my name.
A large ledger book was opened and my name was found.

I was asked to sign my name, while the woman behind the table spoke my name out loud.
I saw my husband’s signature, since he had voted in the morning.
I was handed a ballot with a number, which was recorded in another book.
The folder with the ballot was handed to me.

I could go to any booth I chose.
Gone are the days of booths with levers and curtains.
In its place are small plastic cubicles, which offer privacy from anyone on either side.
I opened my folder and took the pen in my hand, ready to begin.

I am still wearing my wrist splint, which immobilizes my thumb.
I had not thought about the fact that I was going to have to color in tiny circles on the ballot.
Any other time, that would not be a problem.
However, with the wrist splint, I knew it would take me a bit longer.

I made my choices and almost got to the end.
I looked over at the sample ballot that was laying on the side.
I noticed that I colored in a wrong circle on my ballot.
I had never done that before in all the years I have been voting.

I read a disclaimer at the bottom of the ballot.
If you make a mistake, do not cross it out; simply ask for another ballot.
I felt like I was taking the Scantron tests when I was back in school.
Fill in the circle completely, do not mark outside the lines.

I put my ballot back in the folder and gathered my things.
I made a mistake, I told the man who seemed to be in charge.
He looked down at my wrist splint.
This didn’t help, I said, holding up my left arm.

He smiled and took me back to the table.
We have to mark this ballot, SPOILED, and put it in another place, so it won’t be counted.
He folded the ballot in half without looking at it.
He wrote, SPOILED, in all capital letters across the back of the ballot.

I had to go through the same process again, except I did not have to sign my name.
One young man had to make sure my first ballot was marked, SPOILED, in the ledger.
The same young man had to issue me a new number.
The man who was in charge of things, handed me the folder with a new ballot.

I walked back to the same voting cubicle and began again.
I was careful to fill in the circles completely.
My wrist splint got in the way, but I took my time.
I saw that I filled in the right circles for my choices.

I gathered all my things a second time and walked towards the machine.
The man, who was in charge of things, met me.
Everything OK this time? He asked pleasantly.
Yes, thank you, it’s fine; I have never done that before, I remarked.

The one who is victorious will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never blot out the name of that person from the book of life, but will acknowledge that name before my Father and his angels. (Revelation 3:5)

Overcomer.
The one who is victorious.
The one who is victorious in Christ, not because of anything they have done on their own.
The one whose name is written in the Book of Life.

Those whose name is written in the Book of Life, have been forgiven.
Those whose name is written in the Book of Life have trusted in Jesus alone.
There are those who reject God the Father and refuse to come to Him through His Son, Jesus.
Those who reject Jesus or deny that He is Lord and Savior, will not find their name there.

SPOILED was written on the back of my incorrect ballot.
The SPOILED ballot was not able to be counted with the others.
The SPOILED ballot will be shredded and discarded.
I left the voting place thinking about the appropriateness of what had taken place.

I am SPOILED, and so are you, because of sin.
We must come to Jesus and admit that we are SPOILED and dead in our sin.
Only through Jesus’ shed blood on the cross are we forgiven.
However, we have to come to Him in faith and admit that we can do nothing on our own.

SPOILED in our sin.
FORGIVEN in Christ.
And to think I only went to the voting place to cast my vote.
God does not waste anything.

2 responses to “The Ballot”

1. I am amazed at the spiritual lessons you glean from everyday life! Thanks for bringing the gospel so clearly in your writing

   Reply

   • Paula,
     Thank you for your words of encouragement.
     To God be the glory.
     Gina

     Reply