Since it’s a Cigar Story, I always preface it with where am at, what I’m smokin’, and the beverage that chases it down. I head to the pergola tonight with a Perdomo Champagne Reserve, a Manhattan (I know it’s Monday - don’t judge), Bella - that damn dog - and a heavy heart. Tough day. I write more below in this Cigar Story.
You have heard me speak of and write about Bella, the haphazard hound with whom I cohabitate. Read what I think about her HERE. One of Bella’s many jobs is to chase the things. What things? All the things. Rabbits. Doves. Robins (those damn robins). Squirrels (THE WORST). Snakes and crickets and creatures unseen, Bella’s job is to chase the things. The thing is, I don’t think she’s ever caught one.
About three weeks ago, Julie and I were under the pergola with cocktails – me with a cigar – when across the yard there arose such a clatter – Bella had something in her mouth! She actually caught one of the things. That’s when Julie lost her mind – it was a rabbit.
The rabbits – bunnies, as I impishly call them – are some of the things that live in Bella’s yard. This year, we have had a bumper crop. They have nested in a hole under my concrete patio and under the big juniper out front. When the dog is not out, they feed on my yard. And Julie’s flowers. I don’t mind – she does – but they bring me peace and joy.
This bunny Bella had cornered was just a baby. I popped Bella on the head and she dropped her catch. The bunny shot through a hole in the fence and headed for the juniper. I was reasonably sure it survived the assault from my haphazard hound.
Fast forward to tonight. Julie’s not yet home – she had to pick Bella up from camp – and I’m out back watering the flowers. When I get to the flower bed at the base of the deck, I encounter this little guy…
I have seen him around the last few weeks. He moves slow. I think he’s a little lame in his left hind foot and he holds his head kinda funny. I think this is Bella’s bunny!
I am suddenly awash with empathy – he darn near makes me cry. Innocent. Injured. Defenseless. Look, I get that Mother Nature is cruel and life ain’t a Bambi movie, but I feel for this little rabbit. I want to protect him from the evil Bella. What stirs in my soul for this suburban rodent is the same emotion stirring in my soul for my county, state, and country.
The story skips here – but stick with me…
I must admit to being perplexed by the word fight in politics. “I like him. He’s a fighter!” Political ads that claim a politician is fighting for you. I work every day to keep government small and efficient. I stood up to Polis and his lockdowns during COVID. I have worked to protect your God-given and constitutionally protected rights. But my daily grind feels more like a paper pusher than a pugilist.
But things changed for me Saturday evening. They changed for the world. An assassination was attempted on a former President and current candidate for the same office. After defying death by a centimeter or two and being tackled by dutiful Secret Service agents, the first thing President Trump does as he rises to his feet is pumps his fist in the air and yells, “fight, fight, fight!”
It as though I saw with new eyes. When constituents have come to me and asked me to end federal mandates, secure the border, or stop abortion, my response has been, “I don’t have the authority.” And I don’t. It is an important principle of mine that I stay within my charter and statutorily defined lane. I would take that principled stand and avoid tyranny, yet my constituents would anger with me because, in their mind, I wasn’t fighting for them.
“What do you want me to do?!”
But Trump’s courage has reinvigorated my resolve and reminded me of not only my elected job, but my God ordained position.
Everyone must submit to governing authorities. For all authority comes from God, and those in positions of authority have been placed there by God.
Romans 13:1
I am not inferring that, as a governing authority, I am “all powerful,” nor am I inferring that my kind constituents are like my backyard bunny – they are not defenseless. But it is my certainly my role – my God-given role – to take up their cause, defend that which is right, and stand against that which is wrong. I now get it. It is my mandate to fight for them.
Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed.
Proverbs 31:8
God has given me a unique skill set to communicate, yet I have been hesitant in generating more words – more grist for the mill – and that is wrong. I don’t have the authority to secure the border, but I have the blessing of my constituents to raise my rather weighty voice with those who do. I don’t have the authority to end all that is wrong in the world, but I do have the ability – the platform – the bully pulpit – to speak power to what is right.
My political dance with the Donald has been an interesting one. I agree with nearly every one of his instituted policies, but have disagreed with his style. He had a tremendously successful presidency, but his bombast tormented him at the ballot box. But after Saturday, call me Ultra MAGA. I’d walk through fire for the guy who has walked through fire (and taken fire) for us.
President Trump is right – fight, fight, fight – because evil is afoot in our world, our loved ones (and our constitutional republic) are the bunnies, and the Bellas roam our backyard.
Now I know why Bella’s bunny stirs my soul – it’s defenseless and deserves a defender. So does all that is good, true, and beautiful. If I have the authority, I’ll exercise it. If I don’t, I’ll loudly advocate with those who do. Because Bella is in the backyard and it’s time that we all fight, fight, fight!
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