I just heard on the radio that Barack Obama's grandmother died in this morning's early hours. The irony is thick enough to be considered trite if you tried to write it into a novel. If all goes well, Obama will, within 48 hours of her death, become his own little chapter in the history books, as the first African-American president. Many times over the past weeks I have thought a fervent little prayer to myself that the woman who raised him be allowed to see it happen.
I've been thinking alot lately about God's plan for me, because I believe whole-heartedly that he has one for each of us. And I've been thinking that while not everyone is destined for greatness, maybe those not-so-great of us are destined to help someone else on their road.
And isn't that a pretty big form of greatness all of its own?
If I didn't believe in God, I would be just too heartbreakingly sad to think of this woman missing out on the history she helped to create. And since I DO believe in God, I admit to shaking my head a little at what seems to be just not quite fair -- that just like Moses and his Promised Land, Mrs. Dunham ALMOST got to see a dream come true.
Then again, since I believe in the KIND of God that I do, I have to laugh a little at the humdinger of a victory party she'll be throwing in heaven.
For those of us still muddling along down here on Earth . . . don't forget to vote. It's important.