By Annie Peterson | Editor, Civil Patriot
Have you ever had a chance encounter? Some would call them divine appointments. I had one about six weeks ago and the memory of what happened that day lingers in my memory. I hope I never forget because it changed my life.
I’d decided to treat myself to a pedicure, a rare privilege in our COVID-esque existence. Fortunately, in my part of the country businesses are wide open. So, I drove to the local nail salon, ready to enjoy an hour of pampering.
When I arrived, the door was locked. I saw the sign on the door: Call for appointment. Disappointed, I turned back toward my car. Though the glass I saw a young woman rushing my way. She swung the door open and gestured for me to come inside. As it turned out, she had no other customers and was happy to see me. I was equally as happy to see her. She introduced herself as Vivian and I made my way inside.
Moments later, seated in the massage chair, my feet soaking in warm bubbly water, we began to make small-talk. It started with my question: “Would you prefer I wear my mask?”
Vivian rolled her eyes and said, “Keep it off.”
She began the massage and—as the place was empty and quiet—continued to make small-talk. I got the sense that she was feeling me out, as if she had something on her mind. We talked about the pandemic. From there, the conversation somehow shifted to the election, which had taken place only days prior.
From the moment the word “election” was spoken, it was all over. Turns out, this beautiful young woman—who was probably in her late 20s—was a staunch conservative. She was devastated by the notion that Biden had just won the presidency. Like me, Vivian didn’t believe the election was handled fairly, so we had a lot to talk about.
“My parents came to this country from Vietnam in the ‘70s,” she explained. “They were one of the original Vietnamese boat families that arrived after the Vietnam war.”
My heart sailed to my throat as I listened to her passionate words.
“My poor Mama can’t understand why this wonderful country would give itself over to socialism and become like the country she left!”
Before we could say much more, a tiny woman—about my same age—came out of the back room. She was introduced as “Mama.” Mama held her phone up and began to carry on, half in English, half in Vietnamese.
Vivian explained in English: “Mama was just watching a group of people pray for Donald Trump.”
“Yes!” The older woman knelt down right there in the nail salon, as if to emulate what she was watching on her phone. She wanted me to know that the people in the video were on their knees, praying for the president.
At this point she began to weep.
This, of course, made me weep.
To witness this precious Vietnamese-American’s great love for our president was almost overwhelming to me. But I saw the passion in her eyes and knew how much she cared—not just about the man, but about all he stood for. Trump was—and is—a beacon of hope, not just for her, but for all who’ve escaped persecution.
This put a whole new spin on things for me. I’d always seen him as a great leader, but I’d never seen him through the eyes of someone who had once lived in servitude to Communism. Was he really such a strong symbol of freedom?
Mama went on to share about how devastated she was to think that Biden and Harris might sit in the Oval Office. On and on she went, pouring out her heart about the mistake “this great country” had just made in electing them. I couldn’t help but agree.
America is a great country and U.S. citizens aren’t the only ones who think so. People from around the globe look to us—a city on a hill. And they’re concerned right now that we’ve made a catastrophic mistake that will lead us down a very dangerous path.
Weeks have passed but I haven’t had a chance to make it back to the nail salon. I’d love to pop in and ask those ladies, “What do you think? Is Trump going to pull this off? Do you think he still has a shot?”
I’m pretty sure they would jump for joy at the notion that a man of freedom would have four more years in the White House. And, for sure, they would weep with joy at the notion that America would celebrate four more years of freedom.