Abraham Lincoln and Barack Obama

I have been reading a biography about, arguably, the most interesting president of our nation's history-Abraham Lincoln. The book is called Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years the War Years. Today, I arrived at the point in the book that documents his shooting at Ford's Theatre and subsequent death across the street at the home of Mr. Peterson. As I read the account, I couldn't help but cry. In fact, I could've cried like I was right in that room as he drew his last breath, if I hadn't made a concerted effort at controlling myself. I am the type of person that when I read a book or watch a movie, I feel extraordinarily connected to the story, even fiction (this is why I CAN'T watch horror movies, although, not why I won't) (I just dropped a chicken nugget on my brand new computer keyboard-don't tell Chris). Anyway, back to President Lincoln. Back in 1998, we visited Washington D.C. and the various monuments. I was, indeed, awed as I stood in front of the statue of Mr. Lincoln (because of the sheer size and the powerful words on the wall), but I didn't know much of him. Now, I feel as though I know him. I hope he is in heaven, I really want to meet him. I hate to admit it, but all through the recent campaign, a nagging voice kept suggesting similarities between Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Obama-beginning with their homestate of Illinois (where, incidentally, I grew up). Many historical elements are interestingly connected, to say the least. Presidency's have a way of transforming an individual. The president is the personification of America for the duration of his tenure as president. He is asked of, accused of, praised for, blamed for, smiled at, scowled at, prayed for and cursed. There is no way a person can remain untouched in a position such as this. The only power he can, logically, turn to is one higher than himself-Almighty God. My hope is that when he finds himself inadequate for the task, as all men are, he will call out to God and God will make his path straight. It can happen.
Linda