The Grind
I'm tired.
Campaigning has been fun for me. I've met so many interesting people. I've seen supporters of other candidates turn into supporters of my husband. I've seen God provide financially through the unexpected generosity of old friends and new. I've seen my kids make up songs and videos and walk up to strangers to ask them to vote for their Daddy. I've made a radio commercial. I've seen my husband on TV and in the paper. And no one has attacked us or publicly said anything negative about us or our campaign. I cannot say I regret this decision we made to run for Congress in the least.
But I'm tired.
In a typical campaign week, we have two or three events that either I or the whole family attends with Harvey. It takes a lot of energy for me to be "on" for two or three hours at a time at these events, especially after having run around after four kids all day long. The events where it's just the two of us require energy because I feel like I need to be constantly on watch: looking for people I've met before and searching my brain for their names, introducing myself to strangers, putting on a good face, and touting my husband. I'm on my feet and I'm shaking hands and I'm making small talk and I'm smiling. (And I'm usually sweating.) Even though this doesn't come naturally to me, I do enjoy it, and I think I'm pretty good at it most of the time. But it's mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting.
If we do have the kids with us, it's a good and bad thing. It's good because they win us some cuteness points, and I'm usually so focused on keeping them in line that I'm not as concerned about the things I mentioned in the previous paragraph. But it drains me too because I'm always afraid if one of them misbehaves it's going to negate those cuteness points and reflect poorly on us, specifically on Harvey and his fitness for office. I can just imagine people thinking, "If this man can't keep his own children under control, how is he going to handle the responsibilities of serving in the U.S. House of Representatives?" Maybe that's faulty logic, but I don't want our family to do anything that will affect Harvey negatively, so it's a worry I have. And then if they do act up, I worry I won't handle it well and my response will reflect poorly on him. Thankfully, there haven't been any full-blown tantrums or meltdowns among the Sparks children at a campaign event so far.
Putting the kids to work for Daddy
Whether we have the kids with us or not, these events make for long evenings and late nights. Routine is nonexistent during this campaign, and that's one thing Harvey and I both hate about it. Everywhere we've lived throughout our marriage, we've had a basic routine. Consistent mornings: wake up, quiet time (with coffee for me), work out, get ready for the day. And consistent evenings: dinner at home around 6, kids in bed around 8, grown-up time until 10 or 11. But now many times we are out late, eating at restaurants--not at home--and so exhausted that we need to rest and we don't wake up early. Or sometimes Harvey has an early-morning interview or meeting, so he's up and out of the house before I have a chance to go running. We haven't joined a gym because we have no income and we're trying to keep expenses as low as possible; we can't exercise inside the house because we just don't have the space. Running is really the only option, but the only way we can do it with the kids at home (if it's not raining) is to take turns, but that means it has to be done before Harvey leaves for the day, which could be anywhere between 6 and 9. As I said, no routine.
And then there's door-knocking.
I have a love-hate relationship with door-knocking. It can be exhilarating and encouraging, or it can feel frustrating and pointless, depending on the response I get at (or behind) the door. Either way, it wears me out. Lots of walking, now in the heat, and lots of sitting in the car patiently following the droning voice of Ms. GPS. I would say overall about half of the people we visit are home or answer the door; half we get no answer. Only one or two of around fifty come to the door but refuse to open it or take a card. And I've really had only one or two negative encounters, and nothing I couldn't laugh about later. Most people are friendly and seem appreciative that I stopped by. Here are some of the more interesting comments I've heard on the thousands of doorsteps where I've stood:
"I'm so disgusted with politicians, I'm not voting anymore!"
"You shouldn't tell people your husband was a minister. I'm a Christian, and that's just as good as being a minister, and I don't even get paid for it."
"So your husband worked in Washington, did he? Well, that makes him a Washington insider. And the fact that he was a minister--some people aren't going to like that about him either."
Me: "Are you Mr. So and So?"
Mr. So and So: "Yes, unless I'm being served."
(After a long conversation) "If your husband's anything like you, then he has my vote!"
"Tell your husband he's fortunate to have such a pretty, hard-working wife." (Okay, maybe this one's not interesting, but I thought I'd throw it in there anyway.)
"So he's got you working hard for him, does he? Well, one day when you're at all those cocktail parties in Washington, it will all be worth it!"
As fun as campaigning has been for me and as satisfying as it is to know that we were obedient to follow this road, there are times when I'm ready for it all to be over. Sometimes I wonder whether or how I could ever do it again. But there's good news. In a couple days, this phase of campaigning will be over. Hopefully we will move on to the next phase, either a runoff or a general election campaign. If not, could I do it again in two years or four years or six years, if that's the direction God leads us?
I'll just have to keep my eyes on that politician's-wife-cocktail-party future in Washington, and it will all be worth it, right?
It's certainly not a dream of glamourous fetes that keeps me motivated when I'm weary. It's a trust in God and a hope in his plan, win or lose. After all, whether Harvey wins or loses, as a hymn last Sunday in church reminded me, the victory is always the Lord's, so we need not fear the battle. We can "Be Strong in the Lord" and fight on when we are weak--in his strength, not our own. And that's what I'm going to do, not just for the next week, but in whatever battles he calls me to fight in the weeks and months and years ahead.
Campaigning has been fun for me. I've met so many interesting people. I've seen supporters of other candidates turn into supporters of my husband. I've seen God provide financially through the unexpected generosity of old friends and new. I've seen my kids make up songs and videos and walk up to strangers to ask them to vote for their Daddy. I've made a radio commercial. I've seen my husband on TV and in the paper. And no one has attacked us or publicly said anything negative about us or our campaign. I cannot say I regret this decision we made to run for Congress in the least.
But I'm tired.
In a typical campaign week, we have two or three events that either I or the whole family attends with Harvey. It takes a lot of energy for me to be "on" for two or three hours at a time at these events, especially after having run around after four kids all day long. The events where it's just the two of us require energy because I feel like I need to be constantly on watch: looking for people I've met before and searching my brain for their names, introducing myself to strangers, putting on a good face, and touting my husband. I'm on my feet and I'm shaking hands and I'm making small talk and I'm smiling. (And I'm usually sweating.) Even though this doesn't come naturally to me, I do enjoy it, and I think I'm pretty good at it most of the time. But it's mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting.
A few of our many campaign events
If we do have the kids with us, it's a good and bad thing. It's good because they win us some cuteness points, and I'm usually so focused on keeping them in line that I'm not as concerned about the things I mentioned in the previous paragraph. But it drains me too because I'm always afraid if one of them misbehaves it's going to negate those cuteness points and reflect poorly on us, specifically on Harvey and his fitness for office. I can just imagine people thinking, "If this man can't keep his own children under control, how is he going to handle the responsibilities of serving in the U.S. House of Representatives?" Maybe that's faulty logic, but I don't want our family to do anything that will affect Harvey negatively, so it's a worry I have. And then if they do act up, I worry I won't handle it well and my response will reflect poorly on him. Thankfully, there haven't been any full-blown tantrums or meltdowns among the Sparks children at a campaign event so far.
Putting the kids to work for Daddy
Whether we have the kids with us or not, these events make for long evenings and late nights. Routine is nonexistent during this campaign, and that's one thing Harvey and I both hate about it. Everywhere we've lived throughout our marriage, we've had a basic routine. Consistent mornings: wake up, quiet time (with coffee for me), work out, get ready for the day. And consistent evenings: dinner at home around 6, kids in bed around 8, grown-up time until 10 or 11. But now many times we are out late, eating at restaurants--not at home--and so exhausted that we need to rest and we don't wake up early. Or sometimes Harvey has an early-morning interview or meeting, so he's up and out of the house before I have a chance to go running. We haven't joined a gym because we have no income and we're trying to keep expenses as low as possible; we can't exercise inside the house because we just don't have the space. Running is really the only option, but the only way we can do it with the kids at home (if it's not raining) is to take turns, but that means it has to be done before Harvey leaves for the day, which could be anywhere between 6 and 9. As I said, no routine.
And then there's door-knocking.
I have a love-hate relationship with door-knocking. It can be exhilarating and encouraging, or it can feel frustrating and pointless, depending on the response I get at (or behind) the door. Either way, it wears me out. Lots of walking, now in the heat, and lots of sitting in the car patiently following the droning voice of Ms. GPS. I would say overall about half of the people we visit are home or answer the door; half we get no answer. Only one or two of around fifty come to the door but refuse to open it or take a card. And I've really had only one or two negative encounters, and nothing I couldn't laugh about later. Most people are friendly and seem appreciative that I stopped by. Here are some of the more interesting comments I've heard on the thousands of doorsteps where I've stood:
"I'm so disgusted with politicians, I'm not voting anymore!"
"You shouldn't tell people your husband was a minister. I'm a Christian, and that's just as good as being a minister, and I don't even get paid for it."
"So your husband worked in Washington, did he? Well, that makes him a Washington insider. And the fact that he was a minister--some people aren't going to like that about him either."
Me: "Are you Mr. So and So?"
Mr. So and So: "Yes, unless I'm being served."
(After a long conversation) "If your husband's anything like you, then he has my vote!"
"Tell your husband he's fortunate to have such a pretty, hard-working wife." (Okay, maybe this one's not interesting, but I thought I'd throw it in there anyway.)
"So he's got you working hard for him, does he? Well, one day when you're at all those cocktail parties in Washington, it will all be worth it!"
As fun as campaigning has been for me and as satisfying as it is to know that we were obedient to follow this road, there are times when I'm ready for it all to be over. Sometimes I wonder whether or how I could ever do it again. But there's good news. In a couple days, this phase of campaigning will be over. Hopefully we will move on to the next phase, either a runoff or a general election campaign. If not, could I do it again in two years or four years or six years, if that's the direction God leads us?
I'll just have to keep my eyes on that politician's-wife-cocktail-party future in Washington, and it will all be worth it, right?
It's certainly not a dream of glamourous fetes that keeps me motivated when I'm weary. It's a trust in God and a hope in his plan, win or lose. After all, whether Harvey wins or loses, as a hymn last Sunday in church reminded me, the victory is always the Lord's, so we need not fear the battle. We can "Be Strong in the Lord" and fight on when we are weak--in his strength, not our own. And that's what I'm going to do, not just for the next week, but in whatever battles he calls me to fight in the weeks and months and years ahead.
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