Choices

I take a seat inside my miniature plastic fort. I remember the folder 'forts' we used to make in elementary school when we took tests.

I grab the paper. It's heavy, almost like cardstock, but not quite. Its also legal size, which I hate. That’s just too big, its awkward and always gets in the way.

I quickly scan the paper. Making sure I understand it.

I've made my choice, but I hesitate, as if that extra 5 seconds might offer some sort of epiphany. It didn’t.

I blacken the oval. I stand, and feed my paper into a machine that thanks me and tells my its been accepted. Somehow I don’t quite trust it.

 

 

Sometimes we are forced to make deliberate choices. Most of the time we make choices without realizing we have made them. But that doesn’t mean we haven't chose. We like to think we are able to choose everything, and nothing.

We want to mark all the ovals with a shade of grey. If I had done that, the machine would have rejected my ballot, and those nice lady's would have explained to me how it all worked, and I would be allowed to try again. "This time, choose only one", they would have said.

You can't choose Jesus and anything else.