-----Original Message-----
From: Jennifer Reitmeyer [mailto:jennsreit@houston.rr.com]
Sent: Sunday, September 30, 2001 8:51 PM
To: Suzane; Mrs. Henninger; Jay; faithbeliever; Aaron Henninger
Subject: FW: George W.




-----Original Message-----
From: Jennifer Reitmeyer [mailto:jennsreit@houston.rr.com]
Sent: Saturday, September 29, 2001 11:26 PM
To: Jamie Grayson
Subject: George W.


This was sent to me.  I don't know who wrote it but it is good!

Subject: George W.


 This was the same man who came within a hair's breadth of losing an
election in
November, who withstood the political chicanery of the Florida Democratic
machine to fix the vote count.
 This was the same man who admitted to having a drinking problem in younger
years, and whose happy-go-lucky lifestyle led him to mediocre grades in
college
and an ill-fated oil venture.
 This was the same man who mangled syntax even more than his father, and
whose
speaking missteps became known as "Bushisms." And on Friday, this was the
man
who bore the weight of the world and the responsibilities of a generation
with
dignity, class, confidence, appropriate solemnity,
 and even much-needed wit.
 One thing struck me during the campaign, that difficult,
 roller-coaster campaign that now seems years ago. It was that George W.
Bush
never seemed to get ruffled. Whether the theft of a campaign debate video or
the
sudden (some would say, vicious) release of a DUI arrest two decades ago at
 a key moment, "W" did not lose his cool. At times, his staff seemed
overconfident, as did many of us. A 350-electoral-vote win, they quietly
implied
and we optimistically believed. Then they counted the votes, miscounted
others,
and re-counted still others. At the end, he was still there.
 Whereas Al Gore almost frantically huffed and puffed, trying to gin up
something out of nothing, Bush quietly but confidently waited at his ranch.
He
did nothing:  that is the mistake people have constantly made with this man,
confusing lack of bluster for absence of action. No, his team of attorneys
and
the iron-willed James Baker were carrying out his orders, but W
 stayed in the background, confident and faithful.
 You see, it is this faith business that confounded everyone. We  have had
such
actors and liars in public office that we have looked skeptically whenever
anyone used the term faith.
 But this was the same man who was the first politician ever in
 recent memory to name Jesus Christ as the lord of his life on public TV.
 Not an oblique reference to being "born-again" or having a "life change."
 He said the un-PC-like phrase, "Jesus Christ," to which his handlers and
advisors, no doubt, off stage, were also saying, "Jesus Christ" in a much
different tone.
 God has a way of honoring those who honor him. David learned  that while he
was
on the run from Saul's armies. Job learned that after his time of horrible
tribulation. The Messiah said so Himself, many times. So this was the man
who
actually put faith into practice. He actually loves those who hate him. It
is a
staggering concept, so foreign in daily occurrence
 that few thought it anything but grandstanding. Even one of W's biggest
supporters chided the president for adhering to his "new tone."
 Yet there he was, again and again, thanking the Democrats.
 Appointing his enemies to high places in his government. Inviting his
former
foes and their wives to private movie screenings, and (I know, this is  hard
to
stomach) even treating them with dignity. See, this was the man who
 learned early on how faith worked: by praying for his enemies, you "heap
burning coals upon their heads." Happen to catch

Bill Clinton at the National Prayer Service?  Didn't look too good, did he?

 This was the man who named the absolute top people in national  security
and
defense, then caught barbs from the politically righteous  that this one
didn't
have the right views on abortion or that one didn't  have the right position
on
guns.
 And on September 11, at midmorning, this was the man thrust into a position
only known by Roosevelt, Churchill, Lincoln, and
 Washington. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, and the
responsibility of a generation was on his soul.
 So this same man---the one that the media repeatedly attempted to tarnish
with
charges of "illegitimacy," and the one whose political opponents desperately
sought to stonewall until mid-term elections--- walked to his seat at the
front
of the National Cathedral just three days after the two most impressive
symbols
of American capitalism and
 prosperity virtually evaporated, along with, perhaps, thousands of
Americans.
 As he sat down next to his wife, immediately I knew that even if  his faith
ever faltered, hers didn't. I have never seen a more
 peaceful  face than Laura Bush, whose eyes seemed as though they were
already
gazing at the final outcome . . . not just of this conflict, but of  her
reward
in
 Heaven itself. In this marriage, you indeed got two for the price of  one.
 The appropriate songs were sung, as one said, to in an almost
 unbearably emotional service. I, for one, broke down innumerable  times
merely  listening on tape delay on the radio. How the man spoke without
blubbering,
I'll never know.
 Then came the defining moment of our generation. Some people  fondly recall
their Woodstock days. Others mark with grim sadness  November 22, 1963, as
the
day America lost her innocence. But I firmly believe when the history of
this
time is written, it will be acknowledged by  friend  and foe alike that
President George W. Bush came of age in that  cathedral
 and lifted a nation off its knees. It wasn't so much his words,
 though read a  decade later, they will indeed be as stirring as any. The
conflict  would  end, he noted, "at a time of our choosing." It certainly
wasn't
his emotion.
 What had to have been one of the most stunning exhibitions of  self-control
in
presidential history, W was able to deliver his
 remarks without  losing either his resolve or his focus, or, more
important,
his  confidence.
 It was as if God's hand, which had guided him through that
 sliver-thin  election, now rested fully on him. His quiet confidence let
our
enemies know . . . and believe me, they know . . . that they made a grave
miscalculation.
  Now, this same man who practiced his faith through a tough
 election, who steeled his convictions even more in a drawn-out  Florida
battle,
and  who never once gave in to the temptation to get in the gutter with  his
foes (well, OK, maybe the "Clymer" comment is an exception), this  same
 man now lifted the weight of the world and the responsibility of a
generation
and put it on his modest shoulders as though it were  another unpleasant
duty.
 As he walked back to his seat, the camera angle was appropriate.
 He was virtually alone in the scene, alone in that massive place of  God,
just
him and the Lord. But that's the way it's always been in his  life
recently. In
that brief time it took him to return to his seat, I  believe he  heard
words to
the effect of, "You can do this, George. I am with  you always.
 And you can do this well, because I am going before you. And don't  worry
about the weight. I've got it." And I saw in his eyes a quiet
acknowledgment.
 "I know.  Thank you, Lord."
  Back at his seat, when W sat down, George H. W. Bush reached  over and
took
his son's hand. The elder Bush always struck me as a  religious  man, but
not
someone who shared his life on a daily basis with the  Lord.
 George H. W.  treats the Father like a respected uncle, visiting him  on
appropriate holidays and knowing the relationship is real, but not
constant.
 Anyway, I believe that in that fatherly squeeze George H. W. said,  "I wish
I
could do this for you, son, but I can't. You have to do this on your  own."
W
squeezed  back and gave him that look of peace that Laura had kept
throughout.
 It said, "I don't have to do it alone, dad. I've got help."