The Morning After the Big Game BELEIVE

By Dean Burnette, Grateful USA Citizen | Southern Fried Thoughts

Categories: Faith | Family | Politics

Published: November 4, 2026

Well now, y’all, the coffee’s strong this morning, and so is the silence at a lot of kitchen tables.

The votes are counted. Some of you are celebrating, and some of you are staring into your grits, wondering how the world turned so fast. I’ve got a word for those of you hurting today, but first, let me tell you about a ballgame.

The Game Nobody Wanted to Lose

Back home in Louisiana, there was a little town with a big rivalry. Every November, two high school football teams met under the Friday night lights, and I mean the whole town showed up. Grandmas with seat cushions and cowbells. Farmers who’d driven in from the parish line. Preachers, plumbers, and pit bosses, all painted up in their colors.

One year, it got ugly. Penalty flags everywhere. Words got said in the stands that don’t belong in a church parking lot, and Lord knows that’s where some of them got repeated on Sunday. When the final whistle blew, one side lost by a mile. The home crowd went quiet, and a good many folks just sat there on the cold metal bleachers, unable to move.

Then the storm came.

Not a metaphor. A real one. Three weeks after that game, a hurricane tore through that parish and took roofs, fences, and the very stands where we’d all hollered ourselves hoarse. And here is what I’ll never forget. The morning after the storm, nobody asked who won the ballgame. The winning coach showed up with a chainsaw. The losing quarterback’s daddy showed up with a trailer. Folks who’d been yelling at each other three weeks earlier were passing sweet tea over a pile of busted lumber and hauling somebody’s roof off a neighbor’s porch.

Nobody checked a yard sign. They just checked on each other.

Believe

Now,  in case you didn’t know it, I’m a Ted Lasso fan. That fella taught us a thing or two with a little sign over a locker room door. One word: BELIEVE.

He also said something that ought to be stitched on a pillow in every Southern home: be a goldfish. Goldfish got a ten-second memory, and the happiest animal on earth is a goldfish. Now, I’m not telling you to forget what happened last night. Learn from it. Own your part. But don’t let one bad play define the whole season, and don’t let bitterness set up camp in your heart.

My friend Dennis Futch said something yesterday that hit me square in the chest. He said voters don’t owe us anything, and it’s our job to earn trust. That isn’t defeat talking. That’s a coach talking in the locker room at halftime. That’s a man who looked at the scoreboard, owned it, and said, “Alright, here’s how we get better.” That’s the kind of humility that wins in the long run, whatever jersey you’re wearing.

To Those Hurting This Morning

Maybe you poured your heart into this one. You knocked on doors, made phone calls, put out signs, and prayed hard. And now you’re tired, disappointed, maybe a little angry. I get it. I’ve been there, and I’ve weathered storms that would make a hurricane blush.

Here’s what I know for sure:

He wasn’t up there watching returns, biting His nails. The Good Book says, “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not… for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee” (Deuteronomy 31:6). No election result changes that. Not one. And Galatians 6:9 reminds us, “Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”

God did not leave the building last night.

Due season. Not “my” season. “His”.

And to my friends who are celebrating today, I’ll say this with a hand on your shoulder, not a finger in your face. Be gracious. Your neighbor who voted differently isn’t your enemy. They’re the same folks who’ll show up with a casserole when your mama passes. Win with humility. A good sport knows the other team has to live in the same town tomorrow.

The Real Division

Here’s something I’ll keep saying till my voice gives out. A whole lot of folks make a whole lot of money by keeping us mad at each other. Cable news, social media algorithms, and fundraising emails with all-caps subject lines all profit from our fury. Ratings go up when neighbors fight.

But I’ve yet to see a national pundit show up with a generator after an ice storm. That’s always been us: the church ladies, the deer hunters, the rodeo crowd, the fella down the road with the bush hog. Blue collar, white collar, Christian, Jew, folks who disagree on nearly everything but agree that you don’t leave a neighbor stranded.

Dennis was right about something else. People want a little peace and quiet from politics. They want to fill the truck, feed the kids, and sleep at night. That’s not a Republican want, or a Democrat want. That’s a human want. And it’s the kind of thing a community can work on together, one kitchen table at a time.

Pioneers, Every One of Us

Here’s the thing about today. It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, and it’s the first day of somebody’s grand-baby’s inheritance.

Every one of us is a pioneer. Our great-grandparents cleared this red clay with mules and stubbornness. They built churches before they built houses. They didn’t wait for Washington or Atlanta to tell them how to love their neighbor. They just did it.

So how do we move forward?

1. Pray first, and pray for those in authority. Scripture says to do it (1 Timothy 2:2), and it doesn’t carve out an exception for the ones we didn’t vote for. Praying for someone has a funny way of softening your own heart.

2. Listen more than we talk. Go to the kitchen tables. Ask folks what’s squeezing them, then really hear the answer.

3. Show up local. School boards, county commissions, church committees, Little League concession stands. The big stuff gets decided in small rooms, and those rooms are open to anybody willing to show up on a Tuesday night.

4. Serve before you argue. Take a meal, mow a yard, sit with the lonely. Nobody ever got talked out of a bad mood by a meme, but plenty of folks have been loved out of one.

5. Raise our kids to be better than we were. Teach them to disagree without despising, to lose without quitting, and to win without gloating. That’s the legacy.

6. Keep the faith, and keep it joyful. A sour Christian is the worst advertisement the Gospel ever had.

Lagniappe

In Cajun country we say “lagniappe”, a little something extra. It’s the thirteenth donut in the baker’s dozen. It’s what you give when nobody asked.

Today, let’s all be a little lagniappe to somebody. Give the extra grace and the extra patience. Give the extra ten minutes to a neighbor who needs to talk, even if his yard sign was the wrong color.

The storm will pass. It always does. And when it does, we’ll be standing in the same town, on the same red clay, under the same God, with the same work to do: rebuilding.

So pour yourself some sweet tea. Hug your family. Hold your head up. Then go find somebody who needs a hand and “be” the answer to somebody’s prayer.

God is still on His throne, y’all. He’s still got us. And the best is yet to come.

God did not lose an election yesterday. 

He is still sitting firmly on His throne. The same God who saw me through the rockiest storms of my life when I didn’t deserve His grace is the exact same God watching over Georgia and the United States of America this morning. Our hope was never meant to be placed in a political party, a candidate, or a ballot box. Our hope is built on the solid rock of the Almighty. 

“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” (Galatians 6:9)

So dust off your jeans, wash the red clay off your face, and put a smile on. Go hug your family. Say a prayer for our country. Turn off the news, put on some good music—maybe a little Stranger on the Shore or some classic rock from American Graffiti—and start stirring a fresh roux. 

We’re gonna be alright, y’all. Because God is good, family is everything, and there’s always enough gumbo to go around. 

Welcome to the first day of the rest of our lives. Let’s make it count.

God bless you, and God bless the United States of America!

Believe.

Heavenly Father, thank You for this morning. Comfort the disappointed, humble the victorious, and heal the hard feelings between neighbors. Make us builders and not burners. Give us the strength to rebuild, the grace to forgive, and the wisdom to leave this world a little better than we found it. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Until next time, y’all, stay grateful, stay gracious, and save me some boudin.

Dean Burnette

Southern Fried Thoughts: Louisiana Born, Georgia Grown

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