#growth renewal care looking after children the way no one ever looked out for him etc etc etc

[thedragonagelesbian]

sighs dreamily kicking my feet lots............................

[childofchrist1983]

O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether. - Psalm 139:1-4 KJV

There is nothing we can think, say or do and hide it from God. The good news is that He loves us with all our faults and failings. God's love is unconditional. We have trouble understanding what unconditional love is like. The closest I can come up with is seeing our children right after they are born. There is nothing that they have done to earn that love and there is nothing they have done to challenge it. I figure, if we as imperfect and mortal Earthly parents can love our children with that intensity, then God as our perfect Heavenly Father can do it even more and even better.

We get challenged as our children grow. The first few years are challenging physically. Lack of sleep can make us cranky and a crying baby going through teething can be difficult. Then comes the disobedience and challenge of the teen years and we think back on the crying baby and realize that this was the easy part of parenting. I'm sure that we are often both the crying baby and the rebellious teenager in God's eyes. We can also be like the child who comes into the house and looks into the refrigerator and complains that there's nothing to eat when we have just returned from the grocery store and restocked the fridge and the cabinets. Gratitude can be lacking in us as well when we compare our blessing to those of others and feel cheated. It's always amazed me that God can put up with our whining, even though the last thing He wants is for us to grumble and complain and sin daily!

God loves us so much, and all He asks us to do is seek and love Him in return. There is no one on this Earth like Him. No one can ever love the way He does. No one could have created the universe and everything in and around it the way He did. He treats us better than anyone else can. He never stops loving us and bringing us back to Him. And we thank Him for His love, mercy and patience with His rebellious but beloved creation and children. Everyday, we must remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[vanderlustwords]

After You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

24) You're my ex, but I think I still have feelings for you

Summary: For you, there were two important timelines in your life. There was before Steve and after Steve. Except it was complicated. Before, after, it doesn’t matter. It’s always been Steve for you. 

Warning: a n g s t

Note: I was in a mood LOL there will be a part 2! And YES, I’m still working on the requests in my inbox :)

Part I of II

Count: 2085

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Things tend to fall apart before coming together. 

It had been that way when you met Steve. You've known him for quite some time, nearly all your life, really. 

You had watched him fall in love with Peggy Carter, date her throughout high school and into university. You had watched him clumsily navigate his way through his relationship, eager to please, eager to commit, eager to propose, and have children one day.

And then you had watched him fall apart when Peggy Carter left. 

Steve was a mess. 

He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He was...lost. 

It seemed like Steve would never recover from the emptiness Peggy left in her wake.

He says Peggy Carter was the woman who saw him before he had a massive growth spurt and started working out.

You don't know how to tell him you were--are too.

Even before Peggy Carter. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It had started with nothing more than casual hookups. 

The first time had been a drunken mess when you were out with Steve again for the umpteenth time at the bar.

It was Bucky's only idea left on how to get Steve out of the house, and you weren't opposed to it if it got him to leave the house, but you knew this couldn't continue on forever. 

And while he was having another drunken rant about Peggy Carter, you watched him with your own heavy-lidden tipsy eyes before grabbing the front of his shirt and smashing your lips to his.

"What are you-"

"Stop," you hissed as you bit his bottom lip in warning, "stop talking about her."

It took him a second, but he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you close as he kissed you with renewed passion.

Casual hookups turned to friends with benefits. 

There were parts of it that gave you both relief and pain. On the one hand, Steve was starting to seem like himself a little again, slowly, but surely. But on the other hand, this wasn't exactly what you had wanted either.

He was looking at you, but not really.

But the small moments you got were what you couldn't afford to lose now that you've experienced it. 

And somehow, miraculously, casual hookups turned into a cautious, timid relationship.

"What?"

"Will you?" Steve asked as he swallowed visibly as dawn settled slowly, light flittering through his curtains. "Be my girl."

You slowly turned on your side, a little exhausted after the bedroom activities you've just done with him.

You were unsure; it showed in your eyes, and Steve tensed.

"Why?" 

Perhaps it was the way you asked it, but Steve blinked, putting the question and the unsureness in your eyes together. He tentatively pulled you closed to him, relaxing slightly when you didn't push him away. Steve traces your bare spine, warming when you shiver slightly.

"I didn't think there was anything for me after," Steve spoke softly and slowly. 

He can talk about Peggy Carter in vague terms now, it's small, but you feel like it shows he's moving on. 

"I don't know what any of it really means, but there's you. I see you."

It's not an 'I'm in love with you,' but you still want to cry as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Steve holds you close, rubbing your back as he smiles. 

"Besides, it's not proper of me to keep sleeping with you like this, I gotta make an honest woman outta you," he jokes, making you laugh as you slap him playfully.

"You're my girl," Steve says after the laughter dies down, almost as if he's testing the words himself.

"Yeah, I am," you smile. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

What you have with Steve is frail. It's shaky, careful, and shy. 

It's new for both of you. 

Steve's only dating experience is Peggy, and sometimes it feels like he's being overly cautious in watching for signs that you might leave him.

And you're nervous because Steve Rogers is finally yours. You didn't ever think this day would ever come. You were so sure you were going to have to swallow your feelings while you watched Steve and Peggy get married and live their happily ever after.

The first time you had a fight and survived it, you felt like everything was going to be okay. 

"I'm NOT upset," Steve firmly insisted. 

It was probably the long hours at work the both of you had to endure, meaning less time together.

There were reschedule dates, rushed good mornings and good nights, and sometimes the silence of missing the other person was too loud.

"You clearly are," you rolled your eyes because Steve's hands were clenched in a fist, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and brows furrowed.

"I'm not," Steve repeated. "Nobody likes someone who can't understand that life happens." 

He said it so fast that you almost missed it, but you didn't.

It only takes you a second to understand, and you flare up at him with a clenched jaw.

"I am not Peggy Carter," you say through gritted teeth. The name itself seems to make Steve brace himself, but you don't care. "Of course life happens. That doesn't mean it doesn't affect us."

Of course, you understood why Steve was unwilling to show unfavorable emotions.

After all, Peggy had left him for an opportunity somewhere in Europe. Understandably, Steve had been upset when she told him. Steve told her that she should have talked to him about it because he couldn't just uproot his life currently. Peggy said she didn't need his permission to go.

But Steve wasn't asking that she ask for his permission, he was asking where did he stand in her future. 

You grabbed his hand in your own, sighing as you pressed your lips to his knuckles.

"Steve, I am not Peggy Carter," you repeat. "If you're upset, then you can say so. I'm not going to leave when we're trying to build a life together. And life isn't just about everything working out without any issues. I want you to tell me if something is bothering you."

Steve stands there, staring at you while you stroke the back of his hand gently with the pad of your index finger while his hand rests on top of your other hand.

And suddenly he's pulling you into a tight hug, his head buried in your hair as he inhales the scent.

"I really missed you," he mumbles.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Building a life together turns out to be lovely. Knowing you can survive a fight seems to place the two of you in a better place. 

Steve hasn't said he loves you, but he sees a future with you. And for now, that's enough. 

"You're just glowing, doll," Bucky teases you while the two of you are going to house openings. 

Steve couldn't take time off work today, so Bucky offered to go with you.

You laugh bashfully.

"Why? Can you tell?" You smile, and Bucky just smiles softly for a second. 

"You're basically wearing a giant neon sign on your head," he smirks. "Lord knows your forehead could fit it."

"Bucky!" Your jaw drops with a hint of a smile as you slap his arm. 

He shields himself dramatically, and the two of you laugh, waiting patiently for the realtor to return.

"But, you're happy?" Bucky asks after a moment, soft and serious. 

You can't help the smile that forms on your lips. 

"Very much so."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

But, like all good things, they eventually come to an end. 

And you wonder if the end was beginning when Peggy Carter returns. 

She returns, and it's like she's never left. Peggy is still clever, headstrong, witty and sarcastic, charming, and appreciative. 

It's like she never left because she still wants Steve. 

Peggy is a no-nonsense woman, but she had no qualms about telling Steve she was still in love with him, wanted him back, and was willing to wait for him. 

Even fully aware that he was dating you now. 

The entire thing had shaken Steve up. He didn't come home for a couple days, but when he did, he was red in the eyes as he pulled you into a hug. 

And he had chosen you. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

For a while, things are okay.

Different.

But okay. 

This was obviously was something Steve still struggled with because it didn't seem like Peggy was going anywhere.

When things feel too overwhelming, you sit at the bar where you first kissed Steve, downing shots like it's your job. 

Things only go downhill when Peggy is there too, but seemingly picking up food rather than drinking. 

"Do you feel no shame at all?" You glare at her in your drunken haze. "You know he's clearly with me, and yet, you're still pursuing him. Where's your morality now?"

Peggy quirks her brow at you, turning to you as she waits for her food. 

"Steve is the love of my life," Peggy tells you, "I'm willing to do what I must to be with him."

"He's mine!" You nearly scream at her.

"But he doesn't love you," Peggy says calmly, and she knows she hit the nail right on your head when you're silent.

Peggy sighs as if she's tired of this conversation--of you. 

"Look," she tells you, "no matter what you may delude yourself into thinking, I am Steve's greatest love. I'm going to tell you what I told him."

Peggy runs her hand through her hair. "Sooner or later, he'll come back to me because I came back for him. That opportunity for me in Europe was nowhere close to being done, but because I love him--I can't stop loving him, I came back. If this were a movie, I'm his leading lady. And that makes you the side character."

The bartender comes back out with Peggy's food, and she takes it and leaves, not even sparring you another look. 

And like a side character, you can only down another shot.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It comes as no surprise to you when Steve, after all that turmoil, returns to Peggy Carter.

You sit alone in the dark of your apartment, texting the realtor at an ungodly hour to back out of the bid for the house. 

Still, that doesn't stop you from showing up at the house--your dream home that was supposed to be with Steve.

You stare up at it, eyes empty as flashes of the future that will never be come. 

Hours pass, but your feet are rooted there, a stupid, foolish hope that Steve will appear.

But when you feel a jacket slip over your shoulders, and you turn to see Bucky standing there sad for you, you know Steve isn't coming. 

"What are you doing standing out here, doll?" Bucky asks. 

You turn your head to look at the house before looking back at him, blinking. 

"He left me," you say like you're in disbelief. 

"Doll..." Bucky whispers, but he doesn't know what to say because Bucky can't say that isn't true. 

"It's like all this time, it was just a dream. A dream that Steve was blissfully passing the time with until he reality hit him. And that reality was Peggy Carter," you chuckle hollowly. 

But the tears come suddenly, overflowing quick and down your cheeks, even when you wipe them away, so you hide your eyes away in your hands. 

Bucky reaching his hand up toward you but freezes before they can touch you. 

"He left me," you choke, stuttering on your own breath. "He left me, and I can't breathe."

And Bucky throws out all his thoughts, pulling you into his arms as he holds you tight. He grips the back of your neck through your hair. He holds your head close to his neck as if to hide you from the world.

You feel him swallow, but Bucky doesn't say anything as he holds you while you fall apart in his arms.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It's easy for you to leave.

Pack everything in your apartment and move to another city. 

There's no goodbye letter, no goodbye text. You delete your social media and change your number. 

It takes months, but eventually, the new city air feels refreshing, and you feel like you can breathe again.

The only person who may know where you are is Bucky, who visits frequently. And although he is Steve's best friend, he won't open his mouth about you to him. 

And you don't ask about your former boyfriend.

You're learning to live your life after Steve. 

PART II

[arotechno]

The Heartless: Chapter 16

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Chapter XVI: in which the winter melts into spring

Somewhere amid the nagging guilt and restlessness swirling in my chest, I managed to find some semblance of peace in Verdigris. Winter descended thick and heavy on the commune in the form of blankets of white snow that piled high outside the frosted windowpanes. As I got my strength back, I took it upon myself to make sure there was always wood in the stove and a decent stockpile outside. Basil helped Frida in the clinic, and from time to time we’d take beleaguered and meandering walks through the snowdrifts bundled up in hats and scarves to attend meetings in the central square. With his penchant for conflict resolution, Basil was often at the forefront of these meetings, slipping easily into philosophical preaching that always seemed to smooth things over. On one occasion, it dawned on me that his tree-stump declaration that fateful day hadn’t been entirely for naught, and I chuckled under my breath at the thought, earning an odd look from Frida beside me. I had once viewed my best friend as someone never meant to stay still; he was larger than life, a big fish in a small pond. When we were children, Basil always seemed like his personality was too big for his body. But looking at him now, alight with hope and pride for his community, it was clear to me that he was exactly where he was meant to be, and it was I who had outgrown my own bones and learned to run from them.

The people of Verdigris, in line with Basil’s own experiences, embraced me as one of their own almost immediately, despite the temporary nature of my residency. There was a seamstress who would trip over her own feet to repair or replace my clothes without even being asked, and a brother and sister pair who taught me my way around a blade in exchange for help repairing their roof after the heavy snowfall busted a hole into their kitchen. There were a handful of smaller children living in the commune who had grown up there, and a selfish part of me envied them for having never believed they were broken, for never being told they could be fixed. The better part of me was hopeful for a future in which that would always be true.

All the while, I was planning anxiously for my return to the Village of the Heartless. It would be a long journey, travelling south from Verdigris and circling all the way around the far outskirts of Amistadia as to avoid being spotted and recognized by the wrong people.

Eventually, the snow melted, and the days began to grow longer. The trees blossomed and the community garden sprouted with new growth. Basil relied less heavily on the use of his cane as the weather grew warmer, and I began to feel renewed strength in my body after several months of healing, working, and resting. I spent the days preparing in earnest, taking runs and walks through the woods to remind my muscles what it felt like to travel under cover of foliage and by the light of the sun, moon, and stars, charting the best route through largely unfamiliar territory with Basil’s eager assistance.

When the day came, Frida gifted me a new bag to replace the one I had lost in the stabbing, and the entire town saw to it that I was fully prepared for the trip ahead of me. Weighed down with supplies and well-wishes, I bid Verdigris farewell on an early spring morning, with the blessing of those who barely knew me and hope for a brighter day shining brightly overhead.

“Will you be coming back?” Basil asked hopefully.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” I admitted. “Things could be very different. I don’t want to make a promise I may not be able to keep.”

Frida tutted in displeasure.

“Now, don’t be so fatalist!” she scolded, fussing over me for the fourth time that morning. “If you keep a good head about you, you’ll be fine.”

“I’m just being honest,” I retorted, swatting her hands away halfheartedly.

“Frida’s right,” Basil piped up.

I scowled at him in mock betrayal, but he only smirked.

“Just don’t be an idiot this time, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

“Implying that being an idiot is what put me in this situation,” I grumbled, and to my dismay, neither Basil nor Frida denied it. I was about to gripe about it when Frida threw her arms around me, turning my indignant protest into a startled squeak on the tip of my tongue.

“Please be safe,” she murmured.

“I will,” I reassured her, returning her embrace once I recovered from my shock.

Frida gave me one last squeeze before releasing me and heading back to the house with one final warning not to overdo it, and Basil and I were left alone.

A beat passed. Then, Basil chuckled dismally and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Save for the distant chirping of birds, there was only silence for a moment as we stood there and I wondered if this was the last time we’d ever see one another.

“Well,” Basil broke the silence first, taking his hand from his pocket and holding it out to me. It shook, just ever so slightly. “I guess this is—”

Without another breath, I leapt forward and flung my arms around him and tried to imprint the moment in my mind for eternity. Basil made a small sound of surprise before he huffed a shaky laugh and returned the gesture.

“We never got a chance to say goodbye last time,” I said by way of explanation. “So, this is for then, too.”

“Be careful out there, yeah?” Basil urged in response. “But I meant what I said. You’ll come back fine.”

“Are you really sure about that?”

“No.” Basil pulled back from the hug so he could look me in the eyes. “But you managed to come crawling back into my life before, so you can do it again. It doesn’t matter how long it takes; you’ll be back.”

“I wish I could promise you this wasn’t going to be goodbye forever,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to, Ace.” Basil grinned mightily. “Because I don’t know the meaning of ‘forever’.”

 * * *

 After more than two weeks, I found myself in mostly-familiar territory, having reached the outer limits of the Village of the Heartless. Not far from here was the clearing where Petra and I used to have target practice, and the grove where I sometimes came with Marley to gather lumber.

The foliage was thicker than I remembered, with dark, newly sprouting vines that snaked their way from tree branch to tree branch and made travelling far slower than I’d anticipated. The thought of seeing Petra again fueled me, day and night. I wondered how she’d react to the truth.

Bertrand was a different story. I had not left things on a positive note, and I feared that returning after so long with news that he had spent his entire life attempting to break a curse that never existed would fracture our relationship for good.

When I cut through the remaining branches and broke through into the clearing, my blood ran cold.

Where my humble Village of the Heartless once stood lay nothing but charred piles of rubble, entire livelihoods left crumbling to ruins in the dirt. There were no carefully tended gardens, no drying clothes swaying on the line in the breeze, no chickens pecking for worms in the grass. It was the quietest I’d ever seen it—like death itself had come in and made the village its home.

The whole village had disappeared.

[aion-rsa]

Lucifer Season 5 Episode 14 Review: Nothing Lasts Forever

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This Lucifer review contains spoilers.

Lucifer Season 5 Episode 14

“Heaven’s never been a democracy.”

You’d think the return of God and Tricia Helfer would be enough to carry any television episode, but Lucifer’s parents also seem to confirm the veracity of the multiverse theory. Still, it’s the heartwarming scenes within the celestial circle that drive “Nothing Lasts Forever,” and once again, Lucifer reveals another facet of its titular hero as his dark side continues to recede and his light shines more brightly than ever. But do we really need Michael redux?

The central storyline centers around whether or not Lucifer is prepared for the full time job commitment that being God will require. The combination of the patently absurd notion that the Devil should take over God’s throne and Chloe’s understandable worry that their relationship might suffer make for some marvelous exchanges. Whether he wants to deflect the potentially uncomfortable conversation or just get down to business, Lucifer lets Chloe know now is not the time and suggests a “nice little murder to take your mind off things.” Perfect.

Season 5B continues its entertaining trend of revisiting past characters, and while God’s retirement party provides an ample setting for all his children to pay homage to their father, it’s Lucifer’s matchmaking that gives Chloe’s B-movie actress mom Penelope (Rebecca De Mornay) a chance to reconnect with her daughter and engage in the light-hearted dramatic irony as she flirts with God. In retrospect, while it may be true that Lucifer’s main focus at this point is to move his father aside, we see the Devil’s true nature later on in the episode. And to be fair, God’s dry sense of humor makes the scene even more delightful as he drops hints, whether intentional or not, about the true nature of His identity.

Visual humor has always enjoyed a prominent place in Lucifer, but God at the grill has to rank among the show’s finest moments. While we’ve moved past any notion that God is everyman, Lucifer’s dad flipping burgers with a spatula is just too delicious to ignore. There’s little question that spear carrying Remiel’s  (Vinessa Vidotto) appearance seems wonderfully out of place amongst LA’s finest celestials, but her previous interactions with Lucifer and Amenadiel in season four remind us this is not a family with which to trifle. While it’s not at all surprising that Maze asks Lucifer to appoint her to sit on Hell’s throne because “I want to control who does the torturing,” when she suggests she’ll be known as “Mazikeen: Queen of Hell,” it’s easy to conjure up the image of the demon in charge.

Read more

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Lucifer Season 5 Episode 13 Review: A Little Harmless Stalking

By Dave Vitagliano

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Lucifer Season 5 Episode 12 Review – Daniel Espinoza: Naked and Afraid

By Dave Vitagliano

In the past Lucifer obsesses over what he perceives as his father’s manipulation of his life, and now, the Devil seems to be fashioning his own plans for others, not the least of whom is God himself. Was Lucifer’s orchestration of Dan’s little tragicomedy just a precursor for orchestrating the next stage in his parents’ relationship, thereby opening a spot for him to occupy? Of course, the irony here is that Lucifer has been wickedly played by his brother Michael’s plan to usurp their father’s job, but more to the point, Lucifer fails to anticipate not only his evil twin’s seditious behavior but his sister Gabriel’s as well. Has the Devil lost his focus?

The subject of Michael’s apparent return to the narrative leaves me less than thrilled since I’ve never really cared for the “mistaken identity” trope that invariably leads to some cringeworthy dialogue and forced plot developments, all of which we’ve already experienced on Lucifer. It’s too late now to alter his appearance, so we’ll just have to watch where the writers go with this sibling betrayal thread that develops at Michael’s doing and is aided by Gabriel (Kimia Behpoornia), whose introduction brings with it much promise in the coming battle for the universe’s top job. Well, this universe at least.

However, with all of the duplicitous behavior taking place behind the scenes, the love and devotion some of the characters display towards one another reminds us what’s really important. Lucifer’s come a long way since he first meets Chloe in the pilot episode, and while his feigned concern that Dear Old Dad lacks a solid retirement plan, we don’t often see him place himself second when it comes to family issues. It’s not clear whether Lucifer’s acknowledgement that he hasn’t been listening to his father’s desires about retirement is sincere, but his admission that he’d like their renewed connection to last a bit longer rings true.

One of the concepts this biblical reimaging asks viewers to accept is that God makes mistakes and truly needs a do-over when it comes to his relationships with his children. While his admission to Lucifer that “I love you, son, and I’m very proud of the man you’ve become,” is precisely what Lucifer needs, it’s the Devil’s suggestion that God let Amenadiel know that he feels the same about his older son that speaks loudly to Lucifer’s personal growth. However, at the end of the day, are all of these heart-to-heart talks and offers of devotion simply part of the Big Guy’s plan after all? 

At times, the overly conspicuous tie-ins to the episodic murder investigation feel a bit forced, and it’s no different here, but this flaw almost never gets in the way of the deeper, emotional issues most episodes explore. Perhaps if we look at the situation Lucifer finds himself in as the celestial sharks circle and the archangels choose sides, we can accept the idea of an aquarium owner playing God with the fish a bit more easily. Nevertheless, it’s the real God that looks on with interest as forensic scientist Ella Lopez struggles with the evidence, but more importantly with her own self worth. Though it’s become a common plot device in the series, the examination of the internal conflicts the characters experience and the lengths to which they go to to cope with these, remain the show’s strength. 

In the episode’s most beautiful exchange, God tells Ella to accept her dark side as she falls deeper into a spiritual despair that no one around seems to see. “The darker the person, the brighter the light,” he reassures her, but it’s his insistence that he can see her goodness from Heaven that lays the groundwork for her to climb out of the hole in which she finds herself.

It’s difficult to say whether the bigger takeaway from “Nothing Lasts Forever” is that Gabriel brings Azrael’s blade to Michael or that God and the Goddess leave one universe for another under the assumption that the kids will work it out among themselves. Again, is this all part of God’s plan rather than an abandonment? Regardless, Azrael’s blade can kill an archangel which puts everyone in imminent danger. How far are Michael and his followers willing to go to put him in power, and does the weapon’s celestial lethality imply that one or more of Lucifer and Amenadiel’s siblings will die in the fight?

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With only two episodes left in the season, “Nothing Lasts Forever” sheds light on the two sides set to vie for the heavenly throne God seemingly leaves vacant. Yes, an angelic battle surely looms over the horizon, but the question remains: Is this battle part of God’s plan?

Lucifer season 5 is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Lucifer Season 5 Episode 14 Review: Nothing Lasts Forever appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3c11ENE

[ptsfreed]

Starting over

TW: mental abuse, physical abuse, narcissistic abuse, gaslighting

For years, I’ve kept a journal or blog.  I started when I was 5 when my mom bought me my first journal (it even had a lock and key).  As I got older, I transitioned to blogs.  I tried them all, Xanga, Tumblr, Blogspot.  Writing has always been cathartic for me, a way to process and heal.  I had gradually fallen out of the habit but I know that it’s time to start up again.  Last week, I actually made a booming return to paper/pencil journaling, but let’s get real--my hand hurts.  Typing is just so much faster.  Blogging it is.

I suppose I should start out with outlining my goals for what I’m planning to achieve with my return to writing.  I want to give myself the opportunity to slow down, process my emotions and experiences, and heal.  I like having the ability to have something physical to look back on, sort of like a barometer for intangible growth.  It’s hard to measure social-emotional learning otherwise.  

Here’s what I’m currently dealing with.  I’m 31, married, with two children.  I’m a full-time work-from-home-parent.  I am a moderate/severe special ed teacher for a virtual charter school.  My husband also works from home full-time in the entertainment industry, so it’s just us versus the kids all day.  My little ones are 3 and the other is just shy of one.  My husband and I became first-time homeowners right in the midst of the pandemic.  Then he was laid off.  For seven months.  We’re both educated with experience in our field.  Overnight, we went from a six-figure household to becoming eligible for food stamps.  This year, I marveled at how easily a job loss in a two-income household could turn that very same household eligible for welfare.

Depression ran high.  The booze flowed.  My PTSD symptoms went untreated as available therapy appointments became more scarce with the entire world enduring a collective trauma together. I watched my strong husband crumble.  I saw him cry and doubt himself for the first time ever.  I watched as a dark cloud seemed to envelop our household, ridden with fear for the future, uncertainty for the present.  We became expert budgeters.  We ate all the leftovers.  We helped each other to thrive with the most limited social interaction in our lives.  With the welcoming of our son, we compromised our social-distancing for family’s sake, with the promise that everyone in our pod would commit to limiting our social diets to strictly one-another.  It was hard...we love our families, but we dearly missed our friends.  Living two hours away from family in the first place, our local friends quickly became family.  But we adjusted.  Loneliness was preferable to falling ill to Covid--or worse, dying.  

At some point during the pandemic, my mom moved in with us after leaving her abusive 30-year relationship with my father.  Except, she never really left.  She maintained contact with him.  I knew it would be difficult for her.  I expected the separation to be hard, painful, and drawn-out.  What I didn’t expect was how severely living with my mom again after seven years would impact my mental health.  I could feel my anxiety levels rising.  My resentment steadily followed.  I didn’t want things to feel this way.  I was battling toddlerhood with a strong-willed, fiery, emotional kid with a penchant for hitting and also adjusting to life as a full-time working mom of two.  I felt the emotional toll of being there for everyone, compassion fatigue, though I hated to say it.  I felt like as a doting mother, good wife, caring teacher, and compassionate daughter I needed to do it.  But the toll it was taking on my body and mental health was unmistakable.  I cried, sometimes for no reason at all.  I snapped, I felt angry at small things.  My house looked like a tornado ran through it at all times.  Finding motivation to do things was like pulling teeth.  I gained weight, I hit the bottle almost nightly, though I typically limited myself to two drinks.  I told myself I deserved it.  Lots of people share a bottle every night with their significant other.  It’s not like it was impacting my ability to perform my job or care for my children.  Deep down, I still didn’t like it.  It felt like the only way to escape from the hell of quarantine and being broke.  I just wanted to see people.  Spend without immediately regretting it.  Yet here we were.

The year has been a challenge.  Ridden with strong toddler emotions and learning to navigate parenthood while actively trying to break the cycle of spanking and yelling to discipline.  I don’t always succeed and I hate myself each time I snap.  I run to my daughter, apologize and tell her that I was feeling overwhelmed, but that wasn’t okay.  It’s never okay to spank a bottom or yell because you want compliance.  If I can’t always be the perfect parent, then I can at least be one that is apologetic and not too proud to say sorry.  I want to teach accountability and remorse for one’s own actions.  At the very least, I can instill that.  That’s the silver lining of losing your cool, I guess.  But with these apologies and accepting accountability, it’s important that I also couple these sentiments with change.  It’s important that I do this in all aspects of my life, which is what I hope to achieve with writing.  I need to hold myself accountable and be able to look back at change.  I can do this.  I have done so much.  I have survived the pandemic.  I have created a family.  I have finished a bachelor’s and a master’s degree with little financial support.  I have paid my way out of debts.  I can do this.

1.  First and foremost, the reason I started writing again in the first place, I am done with binge drinking.  I feel pangs of doubt as I write this, afraid of my own capacity for caving to cravings and peer pressure.  As I experience those pangs, I can hear a silent voice in the back of my head telling me to push forward and cast that doubt aside.  I know I can do this.  Enough is enough.  My relationship with alcohol has never been healthy.  I began my drinking career in college surrounded by friends that made me feel home.  Drinking was fun, cool, part of the experience.  Pre-gaming was encourage and expected.  If pre-gaming meant you got drunk before the party, then the goal of the party was to get even more smashed.  I carried these habits into adulthood and still carry them with me today.  My last binge was Sunday and I’m not going to torment myself by recanting how bad it was yet again.  My goal isn’t to stop drinking entirely, just to have a healthier relationship with alcohol altogether.  Binging isn’t healthy.  The person I become when I drink isn’t healthy.  I can control this.  I can do this.

2.  I want to continue my journey into healthier eating and fitness habits.  As of today, this is the longest time I’ve ever seriously stuck with a weight loss goal.  I’ve lost 6 pounds since I began with mostly just-dieting.  The fitness part has been difficult to make time for, but I’m working on it.  I know that this goal is closely tied to goal #1.  If I can get in control of my diet, I can get in control of my drinking.  I am in charge.  I can take ownership of my health.  I can do this.

3.  I want to continue learning about my PTSD, my symptoms and how they have and continue to impact my life.  I want to continue learning about establishing healthy boundaries with people I love, my mom included, unfortunately.  I want to continue learning about narcissistic abuse, substance abuse, and how these factors have contributed to who I am as well as my entire family dynamic.  Growing up hispanic, it has been incredibly difficult to establish boundaries without being labeled as “too good”, “hateful” and “too angry”.  I have been told countless times by my own mother that I’m too angry and upset at my father who physically and mentally abused me and my entire family for as long as I can remember.  My dad has cheated on my mom and rejected me for over two decades.  I am sick and tired of being told to forgive my abuser because my boundaries make others feel uncomfortable.  What has been especially hard after actively working on myself for 3+ years is having my own family tell me that perhaps therapy isn’t suiting me because it’s made me “too angry” and that I’ve “lost my lust for life”.  They want to assume that my general sense of frustration is attributed to not talking to my dad, when in reality, freeing myself from that relationship has afforded me more peace than I ever could have fathomed.  Sure, there are difficult moments, but every time I think that maybe that relationship may be worth pursuing again, I am reminded of why I have established such rock-solid boundaries in the first place.  According to others though, this makes me too hateful.  Too angry.  “You’ve punished him enough”, they say.  As if this was ever about punishment and not about protecting myself and my children from narcissistic abuse in the first place.  They say this and accuse this anger of pouring into other aspects of my life, without ever once asking what’s really going on inside.  Not once has anybody asked how parenthood is going.  How I’m coping with the pandemic and the renewed sense of cautious freedom now that I am fully vaccinated and my husband is halfway vaccinated.  Not once has anybody thought to consider that maybe I’m not super woman, that I’m just human and that I too have moments of vulnerability that I irresponsibly cope with by binge drinking.  Instead, everybody says that the best course of action is to essentially “get over” my resentment and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by the decades-long abuse I suffered at the hands of my own father.  The same hands that banged my head against a wall, beat me within an inch of my life, and then sent me to work at a cosmetics counter without a stitch of makeup and completely battered and bruised.  According to the armchair therapists in my life, it’s my job to let go of these feelings and now trust this same meth-addicted man with my children.  I need to trust in his capacity for change and honesty after 20+ years of lying and gaslighting.  I don’t want my boundaries to cost me the most important relationships in my life.  But at this point, I can’t do it anymore.  I am exhausted with explaining myself, for demanding respect and begging to have my story heard and considered.  My mom will continue to choose my dad over me.  She feels compelled to be his friend and the peacekeeper, still, even after attending therapy and working on herself.  I know that my dad is at the center of this, stirring the pot and causing a rift in my relationship with my mother because having me out of the picture will bring the two of them closer.  “See, she turned her back on you too”, I can hear him saying.  This is the loneliest I have ever felt in my life.  I have been told that by my parents my entire life that I am essentially dispensable.  “I don’t fucking need you”, my dad would say.  My mom would “intervene” by asking me what I did to make him so upset, and perhaps I should just “find somewhere else to live” if this was how I was going to act.  I hate feeling this way.  It hasn’t gotten easier as a 31 year old woman, but I can say that I am now able to see the situation much more objectively and with clarity.  This is why it’s important to keep attending therapy, working on my drinking, practicing mindfulness, and living my life with intention.  Wellness really does come full circle.  I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this.

[klainelynch]

Iroh supposed it was lucky that he had stopped at a port in the colonies before returning to Caldera City. When the captain brought him the news about his father (and his brother, and his sister-in-law, would it ever end?), he was able to shut himself in his room for the rest of the evening, and return to the ship's deck the next morning with renewed conviction for his promise he had made to the spirits.

He wasn't thinking about what it meant that the new Fire Lord hadn't sent any word to him about these changes. Really.

“We’re due to land by evening, General Iroh,” the captain said, and he didn’t hesitate in using that title even as its recipient wasn’t sure if it applied any more.

...

At the height of the siege, Iroh imagined his triumphant return to the capital. Images of parades, cheering women, and celebratory feasts sustained him. His father had already been proud of him, but he would be even more so now. No one had ever conquered Ba Sing Se; Iroh supposed that no one ever would. His childhood vision had told him that he would be the one to do it, but the vision had been wrong.

There were no parades.

The only people who greeted Iroh and his crew were the servants who grabbed the luggage and supplies without saying a word to him. He didn't recognize a single one of them.

...

Continue reading under the cut or at AO3

The palace was quiet. He was used to people rushing around, seemingly eager to serve their fire lord. Iroh tried to meet the eyes of the servants, of anyone, but no one gave him the opportunity. They moved like being noticed would ensure a death sentence. The servant carrying two of Iroh’s personal bags stayed five feet behind him at all times, and the distance smothered him more than if she had been five inches away.

"Uncle!"

Iroh barely had time to turn around before Zuko was barreling into him from around the corner. He returned the hug with almost as enthusiasm as his young nephew, who seemed to have grown half a foot since he'd last seen him.

“Zuko, it’s so good to see you,” Iroh said, and it felt nice to see his own smile mirrored in his nephew’s face. No one knew how to act around him since Lu Ten, so they just acted solemn. Iroh hadn’t seen someone smile in weeks, and he hadn’t realized how much that hurt until this very moment.

“You too, Uncle. The palace isn’t the same without you,” he said. “Come on! I want to show you the latest firebending form I’ve been working on. You won’t believe how much better I’ve gotten since you’ve been gone!”

Iroh smiled. “Yes, I would love to see it. I’ll just drop my things off in my room, and then we can make our way to the courtyard.”

"Let me show you to your room, Your Highness. It's just down this hallway," the servant said.

Iroh looked at her quizzically. “I’ve been gone for awhile, but I still remember the layout of this place.” He started walking towards his room, but stopped when he realized that the woman hadn’t moved.

She bowed her head low, but Iroh saw the fear before she did so. “Apologies, but Fire Lord Ozai insisted that those rooms are reserved for the Crown Prince, and that is now Prince Zuko.”

Iroh glanced at Zuko, who looked incredibly uncomfortable. His hands were shoved under his arms, and he also wouldn't meet Iroh's eyes.

"I didn't want your rooms," he said. "But Father said it wouldn't be fitting for my station to sleep in the same bed anymore. I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Iroh forced a smile on his face. "It is alright, Prince Zuko. There is nothing to apologize for— your father is right, after all. I am no longer the Crown Prince, so I do not need such luxuries."

"Oh, okay," Zuko said, and he sounded surprised, as if he expected Iroh to be upset with him. Iroh tucked that thought away. He would deal with it later.

Iroh turned to the servant and asked, "What is your name?"

"Anzu, Your Highness," she said, lifting her eyes from the floor to somewhere around his knees.

"Well, Anzu, please show me to my new rooms so that I may get settled in, and then set up a Pai Sho board for tonight so I can see whether or not I can still kick my nephew's butt." Her mouth dropped a little at the informality of that last request, but Zuko grinned wildly, so it was worth it.

...

His new rooms were almost identical to his old. It was to be expected— every bedroom in this place had the same basic layout, either to confuse assassins or because the original architects lacked imagination and personality. Anzu set his few bags in the closet, and then left to fetch the board. 

As soon as she was gone, Iroh wished he wasn't alone. This room wasn't the same— it only looked that way. The bed was made, but Iroh would have to replace the sheets with the thread count that he preferred. The dressers were bare; he would have to set out his portraits and other knick knacks himself. The bookcase was simply that, and did not hide a secret passage that could be used in case of emergencies. Iroh didn’t need such precautions when two children were now ahead of him in the line of succession.

The room could have belonged to anyone. It didn’t belong to Iroh. It served as a reminder of everything he had lost, and Iroh knew that Ozai had meant it as such.

Don't think about these things. Remember what the spirits told you. This is an opportunity for growth, a chance to do good in this world. Don't forget.

If only it were that easy. Iroh didn't want to care so much about something as trivial as a bedroom, but he was learning to be honest with himself these days. 

It mattered.

It mattered for the same reason as the hesitation in Zuko's voice, as the fear in the servant's eyes, as the lack of any sort of notice before Iroh arrived at the palace. He would have walked in the front doors, expecting to be Fire Lord, if he hadn't heard otherwise. Ozai had stolen that from him, and he wasn’t losing any time in making his own mark on this palace and their nation. It mattered because Iroh was no longer the man he once was.

Iroh was a failure.

He had never been one of those before.

Losing the right to rule was the least of his losses from these last few weeks, but it was still a loss.

On his way back from the Spirit World, before he found the crew to take him home, he had worked out a plan for his reign. He would finish this war quickly, and then he would work to make things right with the other nations. The Fire Nation had much to offer them, but they had gone about it all wrong.

But none of that mattered now. Fire Lord Ozai was never supposed to exist, but he was here now.

Iroh wasn't sure what his place was now. His brother had probably been disappointed that Iroh hadn't died alongside his son to make a clean end to his line; Iroh was okay being a disappointment there.

A quiet knock on his door pulled Iroh from his thoughts. Zuko held the Pai Sho board in his hands.

"I passed by that servant in the hallway, and thought I'd just bring it myself," he said. "I can show you my katas later. Do you want to play Pai Sho right now?"

So many things had changed, but Zuko’s sweet nature had not. "Yes, Prince Zuko, I would love that."

They played for some time without much conversation between them. Iroh was tired from his journey, and Zuko seemed more shy than when Iroh had left him. But the silence was not uncomfortable, and Iroh was thankful for the company.

It was after Iroh beat him for the second time and Zuko agreed to a third game that he said, "I'm sorry about Lu Ten, Uncle."

Iroh closed his eyes just in time to stop the burning from going any further. It hadn't gotten any easier, and he didn't think it would for a long time. He heard the chair scoot, and opened his eyes again to see Zuko halfway across the room.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I can go, I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Shaking his head, Iroh motioned Zuko to sit back down. "Thank you for your kind words, nephew. I'm still very sad about it, but your presence here helps me out. That, and beating you twice!" His joke wasn’t filled with the same kind of warmth that it might have once contained, but it was enough to make Zuko smile, and today, that would have to be enough.

[rakhma-agape-ahavah]

Something I have to share - Part 2

I'm not trying to say I'm anything special. I'm not trying to sit here and say I'm destined for great things. I just want to share with you what miracles God has brought into my life, even if I don't know why. And one of those miracles is that I was even born at all.

   First, I have to tell you about my mother. My amazing, strong-willed, wise and patient mother. She is one of my heroes. Remember in part 1 I wrote about how, even with no hope given to my mother, she put her entire heart and soul into my sister's care and well-being. My mother became an expert on Spina-Bifida faster than most pediatricians in med school with fresh textbooks. 

   However, there was one very important thing she missed about her own health, and all her doctors missed for most of her life; until I was in my late teens or early twenties.    My mother's health was declining. She was having issues with the blood vessels in her legs, along with digestive issues, fatigue, stomach ulcers and acid reflux; even other symptoms she'd overlooked when they were minor in her younger days were becoming more severe. After seeing a few doctors about her ailments, one finally came to the realization that she'd been living her life with a vitamin B12 deficiency. My mother couldn't absorb enough B12, no matter how much she ate of it; and it had been affecting her her whole life. She needed to have regular shots in order for her health to recover.    It was that simple.    I learned afterward in my college health course that this deficiency in pregnant women can lead to birth defects such as Spina Bifida, along with other defects that can have very detrimental effects on bone growth and other organ growth of the fetus.    This meant my sister's disease was completely preventable. My twin brother's disease was completely preventable.    Before any other feelings I had when I learned this truth, I felt anger. My world was shaken. My sister and brother were robbed of me because one doctor didn't think to do a simple blood test on my mother. The emptiness I felt for as long as I could remember, being without my twin, could have been easily prevented. The loss of my sister didn't have to happen. I never knew until then how much comfort I had taken, for years, in the false knowledge that there was nothing that could have been done for my siblings to keep them with me.    I was furious, and hurt. I had been in pain all of my life because of something so simple. My mother had suffered, not just the loss of her children, but the loss of her health for decades because of one, simple little vitamin. My mother buried two children because she didn't get a shot. There was no history, anywhere in our family, on either side, of the diseases my siblings had; so no other possible cause, between two healthy parents, could have done this. Nothing except that little, missing vitamin.    My heart was broken with this knowledge. I felt empty over it. The loss of my siblings was renewed and I cried. I cried myself to sleep many nights after this discovery, wishing desperately that I could go back in time, and somehow, some way, get someone to give my mother that simple test.      I was angry at all the doctors who had ever shrugged off my mother's symptoms and attributed them to her smoking cigarettes. I wanted to throttle every doctor that had shooed my mother out of their office, slapping a label on her, and never digging to really find out what was wrong. I hated every physician who was so lazy as to slam a bill and a band-aid on my mother's health problems and never give her a second thought. I wanted to scream at every pea-brained, ego-maniacal, prideful, know-it-all, fresh out of med school, careless doctor that my mother had ever seen up until the one who finally looked beyond her smoking flaw. I wanted to see every doctor who had prolonged my mother's suffering in some form of physical pain; every doctor who had missed something so painfully simple.    I was bitter. Every ounce of flesh in my body was bitter. I missed the brother I never knew, and the sister I only had for eight years. I was jealous of every single person who had spent one, solitary second longer with her than I did. And it hurt. It hurt so much I cannot put it into words adequate enough to describe. I can't imagine the pain my mother must have felt, but I know how much pain it wrought on me. So much that any reminder would make me dig my nails into my palms until they were bruised or bleeding.

    One day, my parents told me a story; separately, without telling the other what they said to me, and without the knowledge that I was suffering. When my dad was about 11 years old, his grandmother passed away. He told me she was always cruel to him and his brother, yet on her death bed she had requested to see him. He went to her bedside, and she took his hand and said, "Bob, how is the baby? Is she alright?" My dad was incredulous. He was 11. He didn't have a baby. None of the kids in the family were babies anymore. He shrugged it off as a dying woman's mind gone sour, and to comfort her, he said, "Yes, she's fine."    And then my mother told me, my own grandmother, before my parents had announced they were expecting a child (for fear their next child would be as sick as the last, or not even make it) my grandmother announced to them that she had had a strange dream. She said she dreamed that they had another baby girl, born with a full head of dark hair, and eyes black as night.    When I was born, I was born with a full head of hair, and my eyes were black as night.    And finally, I realized; there was a plan. It sounds crazy, but I don't believe in coincidence. My dad told me it didn't dawn on him until long after my sister had passed away, that his grandmother had seen her. She was asking him about Googie. And my own grandmother had seen me.    My sister was so sick, and my brother was so sick. I was sharing nutrients, from a nutrient deprived mother, with my brother; and I was born perfect. I was a healthy, thriving baby, without a single flaw. Knowing now how bad my mother's deficiency was in her youth, and knowing it was only getting worse into her thirties when she had me, I know it was a miracle I wasn't deformed. It was a miracle that, still without the help she needed, she was able to finally have a healthy baby. A baby that wasn't doomed to die early.    It wasn't easy to keep me alive, with my brother struggling for life. My mother finally told me, very recently actually, about how he and I interacted in the womb. Something I had been dying to hear most of my life. I wanted to know every detail of our time together.    She told me that I would always give him room, and I wouldn't fight him. She would be terrified whenever I would stop moving completely; when I'd curl into a tight little ball because his sac was so swollen. They would drain excess fluid from his amniotic sac regularly so I wouldn't be crushed; and only then would I move. I was overjoyed to hear that I was kind to my brother. I was kind during the only time I had with him. I didn't fight him for room like some twins do in the womb; I gave him all the room he needed. I don't know if any of you who read this will understand why such a small gesture makes me so happy, but it does.    Somewhere around the sixth or seventh month of my mother's pregnancy with us, my parents made the decision to abort my brother. The doctors, as they had with my sister, were giving them no hope. They said my mother might die, and I might die, along with my brother. That their second best chance to have us all survive would be to have my mother bed ridden, and give him growth hormones that would be painful for my mother, and stressful for us. But they said the best chance, for me and my mother, above all, would be his sacrifice. And so my brother died before he was even born.    I didn't mean to, and I was never told before the age of nine years old about my brother, but I tormented my mother about him. She patiently took it in silence, until after my sister's death, and she couldn't handle being reminded anymore. 

     I had an imaginary sibling, and earlier than most children have imaginary friends. I did things twins do, but alone. I imagined having an additional sibling to my sister all the time; I made up stories, drew them. At first they would switch from being a girl to a boy, then back again, until I did settle on it being a boy. I wrote a fanciful tale of magical twins with special powers, a boy and a girl, after I learned that twins existed. I read everything I could about twins, and thought it was "so cool" that they did things together that I had done on my own.    One day I was excited to tell my mother about a new, twin inspired story I had begun writing, and she snapped at me, saying she didn't want to hear it. Then my dad told me why, and to never talk about twins to my mother again. It hurt her too much.    Now, I digress. I mentioned earlier that I realized there was a plan, and that I don't believe in coincidence. I had spent months of my life being angry, hurt, and bitter; I forgot completely, for a while, the gift my sister had been to so many people. I had forgotten that, without her disease, she might not have had such a tremendous effect on so many hundreds of people. I had forgotten that, in my eyes, my big sister was perfect just as she was. I had forgotten there was a reason for why her life was the way it was.    Long before my parents met, long before my siblings and I were even a thought in any human mind, God had set up events to comfort me. My great grandmother saw a sick baby girl, and knew she belonged to my dad. My grandmother had seen me, just me, long before I was born.    If not for the loss of my sister, I would never have been so driven to love like she did. I would not, out of love, have forgiven the people I have forgiven. I would not have tattooed "Let the love in your heart run in rivers down your arms" on my left arm, in her memory, so that each time I see it I would remember to be a little more selfless that day. I would not be who I am, if my sister were not who she was.    If not for the loss of my brother, I would not see life as the short gift that it is, and I would not have valued people so much. I wouldn't seek out so much human connection, every day, randomly complimenting and talking with strangers. I wouldn't have a love for people, strangers I've just met, if I hadn’t already loved someone I never knew.    I don't know yet, for what other reasons my family and I had to face so much tragedy; but I know I have come out so much stronger for it. I have come out better for it. And if I did not have a purpose, I would not be here still.    I prayed about what I learned had happened so long before I was born, and God gave me comfort. I wasn't bitter, or hateful, or angry about it anymore. I learned that a God who thought about the pain I would feel as an adult, and planned a way to bring me peace in that time long before my birth, never makes mistakes; and He would never leave me broken.    I have to share, no matter if anyone believes or not, the miracles, big and small, that I have experienced. I have seen some of the things that come together to work for the good of those who love God, to them who are called according to His purpose.    I'm not perfect. There are times when my anger gets the best of me, and I don't show the love I should to others. That's why He reminds me, all the time. I just have to listen better. So please, don't let my faults taint anything I've written. Read with the understanding that I am not perfect, or amazing, and I have not done anything great.    But God has, and I want to tell you about it.

[overcomingevilwithgood]

The Morning Coffee Cup

Introduction: It Is Six O’Clock

It is six o'clock in the morning and the alarm is going off. You roll over, hit “snooze” for just five more minutes of sweet sleep. After the third or fourth time of continually hitting the snooze, you finally get out of bed and on with your day. You get the coffee going, take a shower while it brews, get into some fresh close, make some breakfast and drink your coffee. You leave for work and pour one more cup for the road. Lunch break comes around and you decide to get another “cup of Joe” to finish the shift strong. You get home from work and go to sleep shortly after. And then it is six o’clock in the morning and the alarm is going off... 

Creature of Habit

As humans we are creatures of habits. Developing a daily ritual to our lives that become imbedded into the shaping and direction of our growth. Some things change throughout the day, but for the most part, it is easy to fall into the same patterns frequently. When is it that we became so reliant on day-to-day rituals that it has blinded us from what we truly need to start our morning with? Yes, some things cannot be helped like work schedules or taking our children to school or even going to school ourselves. But what about the small habits we have developed in between? 

We may drink a cup of coffee every morning before work, workout at the gym every night, watch Netflix and relax, read our favorite book, or even develop a habit of hitting the “snooze” button for thirty minutes every morning. Regardless of what it is we repeat, everyone has a pattern they conform to daily. Likewise, they have a habit to look for and examine.

To say that these habits are “wrong” would be wrong in itself to say. Nothing is at fault with wanting a little energy before a long day or building our body to a more healthy lifestyle. In fact, it is a good thing to want that productivity. However, what if we took that same ambition and applied it to just some short minutes in the day? If we have enough time to brew a cup of coffee, why do we find ourselves not having time to spend with God? 

Coffee Date

Now as humans, we have a different relationship with everyone that we interact with. And as Christ followers, the same can be said with our relationship with Jesus. It is different for everyone. Some people are shy and do not open up quickly, some are super outgoing and could talk all day, some would spend every second they could with someone they care for, while the other needs to take them in intervals. Whichever way we pursue a relationship is up to the personality we possess. But there has to be a pursuit. 

Our relationship with God is like coffee in a way. We all have a different way we take it or enjoy it. But at the end of the day, it all came from the same bean. It is all produced from the same harvest. It is all made from the same love. And benefits those who take it. 

Now, we can have our coffee and our time with Jesus. The argument being made is not to depart from simplistic habits, but to enforce some new ones. The effort is what matters. The process to set a healthy routine daily! A “coffee date” of sorts. Where we sit down daily and we really get to know our God more passionately, intimately, and intentionally. The important thing to realize is that we need to make that time available no matter how busy we are. For it is truly rewarding. 

Pick a Place

Everyone has their favorite place to go and get a coffee. A relaxing and quiet environment to focus and enjoy whatever we are working on at the moment. The same applies when we choose to work on ourselves. We must find a quiet and comfortable space. 

Once that spot is found, remove the distractions. Put the phone away and strip the space bare if it means focusing on Him more intently. It needs to be you and it needs to be God. If you do not have that favorite place; make one. Whether it be in your room with the door shut, a meadow in a forest, your car parked somewhere, the top of a mountain, or something as simple as your closet with only a seat and your bible. Pick a place to enjoy the company of our Lord. 

“But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

Matthew 6:6

God wants to spend time with us!

Open Your Heart

We need to open our hearts to soak in His everlasting cup of fulfillment and drink from His living water, rather than a temporary coffee. Coffee costs money and the effects do not last long in comparison to what God wants to bring to us freely. 

“And he said to me, ‘It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.’”

Revelations 21:6

The effort needs to be made. The habit and routine needs to be established. If we have time to make coffee, we have time to spend with God. If we have time to enjoy our hobbies on the weekend, we have time to go to church. If we have time to listen to our favorite artist, we have time to sing praise to Him. 

Let us not settle for a surface level relationship with our creator. Let us not take for granted who blessed us with pleasures such as coffee in the first place. Let us not grow weary of seeking God daily. If we do not hear Him well, it could be that we do not know Him well. Make the effort, pick a place, take a pace, seek His face.

“Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you...”

James 4:8a

Final Encouragement 

This month I would encourage everyone who reads this to put in the training to pursue a daily renewal with Jesus. For me personally it has done amazing wonders and has made me feel closer to God than ever. Start with just fifteen minutes if you have to. Follow the guide on how to pray from Matthew if it helps you get started. I promise you will find yourself wanting to spend more and more time with God daily. 

30 Day 15 minute Challenge: 

- Before your busy day gets started, go to your spot

- Open your heart and invite God to be with you

- Thank God for at least one thing in your life that you are grateful for

- Praise Him for all He is doing in your life

- Ask for His Will to be accomplished within you today

- Seek for your heart to be made known to blame or wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness on what is shown

- Allow His supply in your life and ask for ways to give back to Him

- Ask for the protection and deliverance from The Enemy and anything else that may cause you to fall

- Ask for an opportunity to be brought to you in order to share Jesus through your actions and bring glory to Him

- Make your requests known and ask for with a believing heart that which you would like to receive

- End with His Will to be done regardless. Because He knows the best plans for your life

- Spend time reading in His Word as you reflect on all you just prayed about

- At the end of the day pray, journal, and meditate on what He has taught you

- Follow the same steps the next day

This is just a helpful step into all you could unlock pursuing a genuine relationship with God. There is still so much more you could do to draw closer to His love. Sing praise to Him on your way to work, listen to a sermon instead of music, join a bible study rather than hanging with the “homies,” and spend time with God before making that cup of coffee.

E.N. Courageen

[pope-francis-quotes]

3rd April >> (@Zenitenglish By Virginia Forrester) #PopeFrancis #Pope Francis at General Audience: Pope Francis Recalls Highlights of Morocco Visit (Full Text): ‘My pilgrimage followed in the footsteps of two Saints: Francis of Assisi and John Paul II.’

This morning’s General Audience was held at 9:20 in St. Peter’s Square, where the Holy Father Francis met with groups of pilgrims and faithful from Italy and from all over the world.

In his address in Italian, the Pope focused his meditation on his Apostolic Journey to Morocco, which just ended (Biblical passage: From the Gospel according to Matthew 13:33).

After summarizing his catechesis in several languages, the Holy Father expressed special greetings to groups of faithful present. Then he made an appeal on the occasion of the 6th International Day of Sports for Peace and Development, launched by the United States and being observed today.

The General Audience ended with the singing of the Pater Noster and the Apostolic Blessing.

* * *

The Holy Father’s Catechesis

Dear Brothers and Sisters, good morning!

Last Saturday and Sunday I undertook an Apostolic Journey to Morocco, invited by His Majesty King Mohammed VI. To him and to the other Moroccan Authorities I renew my gratitude for the warm reception and for all the collaboration, especially to the King: he was so brotherly, so friendly, so close.

Above all I thank the Lord, who permitted me to take another step on the path of dialogue and encounter with Muslim brothers and sisters, to be — as the motto of the Journey stated — “Servant of Hope” in today’s world. My pilgrimage followed in the footsteps of two Saints: Francis of Assisi and John Paul II. 800 years ago, Francis took the message of peace and fraternity to Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil; in 1985, Pope Wojtyla carried out is memorable visit to Morocco, after having received in the Vatican — first among the Muslim Heads of State — King Hassan II. However, some might ask: why does the Pope go to the Muslims and not just to Catholics? Why are there so many religions, and why ever are there so many religions? With the Muslims we are descendants of the same Father, Abraham: why does God permit so many religions? God willed to permit this: the theologians of Scholasticism referred to God’s permissive voluntas. He willed to permit this reality: there are so many religions; some are born of the culture, but always looking to Heaven, looking at God. However, what God wills is fraternity among us in a special way — here is the reason for this trip — with our brothers, children of Abraham like us, the Muslims. We must not be scared by the difference: God has permitted this. We must be scared if we don’t act with fraternity, to walk together in life.

To serve hope, at a time like ours, means first of all to build bridges between the civilizations. And it was a joy and an honor for me to be able to do so with the noble Kingdom of Morocco, meeting its people and its rulers. Remembering some important international summits that in the last years have been held in that country; with King Mohammed VI we confirmed the essential role of religions in defending human dignity and promoting peace, justice, the care of Creation, that is, our common home. In this perspective, we also signed together with the King an Appeal for Jerusalem, so that the Holy City is preserved as patrimony of humanity and place of peaceful encounter, especially for the faithful of the three monotheist religions.

I visited the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, paying homage to his memory and that of Hassan II, as well as the Institute for the Formation of Imams, of men and women preachers. This Institute promotes an Islam respectful of other religions and rejects violence and fundamentalism, namely, it stresses that we are all brothers and we must work for fraternity.

I dedicated particular attention to the migratory question, either speaking with the Authorities or especially attending the meeting dedicated specifically to migrants. Some of them witnessed that the life of one who emigrates changes and becomes human again when he finds a community that receives him as person. This is essential. In fact, ratified at Marrakech in Morocco, last December was the “Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration” — an important step towards the international community’s assumption of responsibility. As Holy See, we offered our contribution, which is summarized in four verbs: receive the migrants, protect the migrants, promote the migrants and integrate the migrants. It’s not about planning welfare programs from the top, but about undertaking together a path through these four actions, to build cities and countries that, although keeping their respective cultural and religious identity are open to the differences and are able to appreciate them in the sign of human fraternity. The Church in Morocco is very committed in her closeness to the migrants. I don’t like to say migrants; I prefer to say migrant persons. Do you know why? Because <the word> migrant is an adjective, whereas the term person is a subject. We have fallen into the culture of the adjective: we use so many adjectives and very often we forget the subjects, namely, the substance. An adjective is always linked to a subject, to a person; therefore, a migrant person. So there is respect and one doesn’t fall into this culture of the adjective, which is too liquid, too gaseous. The Church in Morocco, I was saying, is very committed to closeness with migrant persons, and, therefore, I wished to thank and encourage all those that render service to them with generosity, fulfilling Christ’s word: “I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Matthew 25:35).

Sunday was dedicated to the Christian community. First of all, I visited the Rural Center of Social Services, run by the Sisters Daughters of Charity, the same that do here the dispensary and clinic for children, here at Saint Martha’s, and these Sisters work with the collaboration of numerous volunteers; they offer various services to the population.

In the Cathedral of Rabat, I met with priests, consecrated persons and the Ecumenical Council of Churches. It’s a small flock in Morocco, and so I remembered the evangelical images of salt, of light and of leaven (Cf. Matthew 13-16)l 13:33), which we read at the beginning of this Audience. What matters isn’t the quantity but that the salt has flavor, that the light shine, and that the leaven have the force to make the whole dough ferment. And this doesn’t come from us, but from God, from the Holy Spirit who makes us witnesses of Christ where we are, in a style of dialogue and friendship, to be lived first of all among us, Christians, because — Jesus says — “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). And the joy of ecclesial communion found its foundation and full expression in the Sunday Eucharist, celebrated in a sports complex of the capital. There were thousands of people of some 60 different nationalities! — a singular epiphany of the People of God in the heart of a Muslim country. The parable of the merciful Father made the beauty of God’s plan shine in our midst, who wants all His children to take part in His joy, in the feast of forgiveness and reconciliation. Entering this feast are those that acknowledge themselves needy of the Father’s mercy and who are able to rejoice with Him when a brother or a sister returns home. It’s no accident that there, where the Muslims invoke every day the Clement and Merciful One, the great parable of the Father’s mercy resounded. It’s so: only one who is reborn and lives in this Father’s embrace, only those that feel themselves brothers, can be servants of hope in the world.

© Libreria Editrice Vatican

[Original text: Italian] [ZENIT’s translation by Virginia M. Forrester]

In Italian

A warm welcome goes to the Italian-speaking pilgrims.

I’m happy to receive the participants in the Course for Rectors and Vice-Rectors of the Major Seminaries in Mission Territories, as well as those at the International Studies Seminar “The Family as Place of Growth.”

I welcome the faithful, together with the Administrators, the Associations and the Schools that are taking part in the peace project “Olive Tree of Friendship.”

I greet the parish groups, in particular, those of Grosseto, accompanied by the Bishop, Monsignor Rodolfo Cetoloni; of Fondi, of Filetto and of Gragnano; the Italian Center of Salesian Women’s Works of Professional Formation; the Agesci Scout Group of Villanova di Castenaso and the school Institutes.

A particular thought goes to young people, the elderly, the sick and newlyweds.

May the Lent we are living foster greater closeness to God. It’s a precious time to rediscover the importance of faith in daily life that, lived through the exercise of the works of mercy, may revive in us love of the Father and make us more aware of the needs of those in need.

© Libreria Editrice Vatican

[Original text: Italian] [ZENIT’s translation by Virginia M. Forrester]

The Holy Father’s Appeal

Observed today is the International Day of Sport for Peace and Development, launched by the United Nations. Sport is a universal language, which embraces all peoples and contributes to overcome conflicts and to unite people. Sport is also a source of joy and great emotions, and it’s a school where virtues are forged for the human and social growth of persons and communities. I hope that all will get involved in life as in sport.

© Libreria Editrice Vatican

[Original text: Italian] [ZENIT’s translation by Virginia M. Forrester]

3rd APRIL 2019 15:11GENERAL AUDIENCE

[citizentruth-blog]

"A Tale of Two Countries," Or, the 2019 State of the Union Address

Donald Trump preached unity in the 2019 State of the Union and shared an agenda based on a vision of America. Unfortunately, it's a vision for an America which doesn't exist coming from a man who actively divides his constituents. (Photo Credit: Gage Skidmore/Flickr/CC BY-NC 2.0) President Donald Trump finally got to deliver his State of the Union address with the recent partial government shutdown in the rear-view mirror (although we could totally have another one in the near future if we don't figure out how to decouple the subject of a border wall from funding federal agencies, so yay?). The good news is the president stopped short of calling for a state of emergency to advance construction of a border wall. The bad news is Trump had a national platform by which to spew his rhetoric at the American people. Before we get to the veracity of what Trump said or lack thereof, let's first address what the man spoke about. Trump's agenda, at least in principle, was devoted to the areas where members of both parties can find consensus. These major topics included promoting fair trade and other policies which help American jobs/workers, rebuilding our infrastructure, reducing the price of health care (including prescription drugs), creating a more modern and secure immigration system, and advancing foreign policy goals that align with American interests. On the economy, it was jobs, jobs, jobs! Wages are rising! Unemployment is declining! Regulations are going away! Companies are coming back! And it's all because of me! So let's stop all these needless investigations into my affairs. You don't want THE AMERICAN PEOPLE to suffer on account of me, do you? Trump also addressed tariffs and the USMCA, but rather than calling out countries like China for abuse of workers' rights or currency manipulation or anything like that, he expressed respect for Xi Jinping and instead laid blame at the feet of past leaders and lawmakers. As always, thanks, Obama. On immigration, well, you probably know the story by now. Immigrants enrich our society in many ways—except when they don't, taking away jobs, lowering wages, bringing drugs and violent crime, encouraging the trafficking of human beings, and taxing our public services. ICE is a bunch of heroes, gosh darn it! And we need that wall! On infrastructure, Trump indicated we need both parties to work together and that he is "eager" to work with Congress on new, cutting-edge investments that the country requires to keep pace in a rapidly developing world. That's it. Not a lot of what these infrastructural improvements would look like or how we'd go about funding them. But, huzzah, infrastructure! On lowering drug prices/health care, Congress, wouldja put something together already? Sheesh? Also, HIV and AIDS—why are they still a thing? Let's cut that out. Cancer? You're next. Really, we need to recognize that all life is precious. Looking at you, Democrats, and your whole insistence on women's right to choose. #NotMyAbortions Lastly, on foreign policy, Trump extolled the virtues of our Armed Forces and thus explained why we need to shower them with money on an annual basis. Also, NATO was being very mean to us but now its members are going to spend more on defense. Also also, Russia is being a doo-doo head and that's why we pulled out of the INF Treaty. Also also also, Kim Jong-un and I are BFFs and we're going to bring peace to the Korean Peninsula. Also also also also, Guaidó > Maduro and socialism never works. Also 5x, Israel is super cool, the Holocaust was bad, ISIS is defeated, and did I mention we love our troops? In conclusion, America is awesome and greatness awaits us. So ladies and gents, let's not screw the pooch on this one and work together. Because if we fail, it will because you all couldn't figure out how to rise above our differences. #NotMyFault Depending on your political views, it may not surprise you to know that several of President Trump's remarks were characterized as either "false" or "misleading" by fact-checkers. Among Trump's misrepresentations, according to The New York Times: Our economy isn't growing twice as fast today as when Trump took office, and in fact, American economic growth in 2018 fell short of that of even Greece. Greece! Trump claimed his administration has cut more regulations than any other administration in U.S. history, but according to experts, these rollbacks aren't at the level of the Carter and Reagan administrations. Job creation during Trump's tenure isn't some miraculous, near-impossible feat. It's roughly on par with the state of affairs during the Obama administration and down from job creation in the 1990s. Also, more people are working in the United States than ever before because more people live here. Unless he wants to take credit for helping populate America too. On immigration, phew, where do we start? El Paso was never one of America's most dangerous cities. San Diego's border fencing "did not have a discernible impact" on lower border apprehension rates, according to the Congressional Research Service. In addition, the idea that "large, organized caravans" of migrants are on their way to the U.S. is exaggerated. Not only has the USMCA not been approved by Congress yet, but it might not bring as many manufacturing jobs back to America���or for that matter, the North American continent—as anticipated. On Nicolás Maduro and Venezuela, it's not so much that Maduro is a socialist as much as he's a dictator whose rule has been marked by corruption, deficiency in the rule of law, and the circumvention of democracy. But keep parroting conservative talking points. Trump claimed we'd be at war with North Korea if he hadn't been elected. Bullshit. Especially in the incipient stages of his presidency, Trump notably egged on Kim Jong-un, referring to him as "Little Rocket Man." Back the trolley up there, Mr. President. On abortion, more misleading remarks. Trump suggested New York's Reproductive Health Act allows abortions until shortly before birth, but rather, the law permits abortions after 24 weeks in cases where the fetus is not viable or the mother's health would be imperiled. Trump also invoked Virginia governor Ralph Northam's comments about discussing abortion with physicians up until birth and end-of-life care in instances where a child wouldn't live, though Trump treated them as tantamount to advocating for babies' execution after birth. Sadly, Northam's ongoing controversy involving whether or not he appeared dressed in blackface or a Ku Klux Klan costume in a college yearbook photo was not part of Trump's deceptive commentary. That's on you, Ralph, and I wish you would resign already. The State of the Union address, especially under Pres. Donald Trump, is a bizarre bit of theater. Here is a function outlined in the Constitution and adapted by means of tradition that makes for much pomp and circumstance amid the formal procedures and recognitions which occur within, presided over by a president who consistently flouts convention and other semblances of decorum. The Trump presidency has been one marked by chaos and one which encourages division within the electorate. The very date of the address was postponed by a shutdown characterized by partisan gridlock—which went curiously unmentioned during Trump's speech—and was a bone of contention between the president and Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. To have members of Congress from both parties smiling and clapping for him seems rather jarring. It's particularly jarring to witness this spectacle and the parade of "Lenny Skutniks" that presidents trot out in the name of bolstering their credibility (Trump called upon World War II veterans, a minister who had her non-violent drug offense commuted by Trump, another former inmate who sold drugs and has since reformed, the family of victims of a undocumented immigrant's violence, an immigrant-turned-ICE special agent, a cancer survivor, the father of someone lost in the attack on the USS Cole, a SWAT officer on the scene at last year's synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, and a Holocaust survivor) when the Democrats offered an official rebuttal, as is custom. Stacey Abrams, who came within two percentage points of winning the 2018 Georgia gubernatorial election and might've won if not for then-Secretary of State Brian Kemp's shenanigans, delivered the Dems' response. She assailed the Republican Party for crafting an immigration plan that tears families apart and puts children in cages, for working to dismantle the Affordable Care Act, for failing to take action on climate change, for rigging elections and judiciaries, and for repeatedly attacking the rights of women, people of color, and the LGBTQ community, among other things. Abrams closed her speech with these thoughts: Even as I am very disappointed by the president’s approach to our problems—I still don’t want him to fail. But we need him to tell the truth, and to respect his duties and the extraordinary diversity that defines America. Our progress has always found refuge in the basic instinct of the American experiment—to do right by our people. And with a renewed commitment to social and economic justice, we will create a stronger America, together. Because America wins by fighting for our shared values against all enemies: foreign and domestic. That is who we are—and when we do so, never wavering—the state of our union will always be strong. Abrams's sentiments may seem a bit schmaltzy at points, but alongside Trump's rhetoric since he began his presidential campaign, she is much better equipped to talk about the state of the union and bipartisan solutions than our Commander-in-Chief. And while this message serves an obvious partisan purpose, criticism of Trump's divisiveness is deserved, notably in light of his numerous falsehoods and distortions. That's what makes this all so disorienting. Donald Trump speaks to solving problems which may or may not exist, leaving existing problems unaddressed and creating phantoms where bogeymen are needed. As senator Richard Blumenthal wrote on Twitter, Trump's State of the Union speech was a "tale of two countries." To entertain the absurdities of his presidency with any degree of normalcy, applauding him and dignifying his comments with formality and a primetime audience, is therefore to acknowledge two different speeches: the one that the president gave and the one that Americans actually deserved. It creates a sort of cognitive dissonance that requires some degree of mental gymnastics to try to sort out. Is Trump the uniter and Democrats the dividers? Was it all a farce, his plea for unity and his presidential tone an exercise in cynicism? Or was it just an unofficial rally for his base and potential voters heading into 2020? Does anything he say truly matter? Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? The questions abound, as do the anxiety, probable headaches, and possible additional Queen references. I'm not sure what the answer is here, if there is only one. I chose not to watch the live broadcast and to read a transcript, view photos, and watch video clips after the fact. I would've liked to see more lawmakers do the same, though I suppose Nancy Pelosi did get in some epic eye-rolls. Maybe we should do away with the whole spectacle altogether. At least as far as Trump is concerned, he's already made his true feelings known via social media countless times over. Why bother with the charade when we can just read a written report or his tweets instead? If nothing else, it would save time. Read the full article

[1badthing1goodthing]

#3

The bad thing.

This story from NPR: A Trump Swing Voter Looks Ahead.

I don’t know why I read this.

We are supposed to be listening to each other more, right? I mean, that is the popular thing to say. It’s what Obama told us to do. It is what, as an educator who hears more and more stories from teachers of students literally refusing to even hear other points of view in their classrooms these days, I do want to tell children to do. At least in a learning environment, you sure as hell don’t have to agree but you should be open to listening. So even though I don’t actually believe that people who have been oppressed have any responsibility whatsoever to listen more to their oppressors, as a teacher, sometimes I want to practice what I preach. And NPR is good at laying out stories in a matter of fact way, a way that probably wouldn’t make me too mad. 

That’s the reason I gave myself for clicking on it. But after reading it, I realized the actual reason was probably just because I’m an idiot, and I thought the “looks ahead” portion of this headline meant that this swing voter had realized the error of their ways after seeing the Cabinet of Incompetence and Ill Will that Trump is trying to get into place, or after watching his ridiculous shit show of a press conference that proved he only ever wants to campaign for the rest of his life and has developed absolutely no interest in actually governing. Maybe they looked more into who Vladimir Putin actually is and what he has done and it’s left them a little scared. Maybe they’re ready to apologize and move forward with us.

You already know, dear reader, that that was not the case.

I can’t get this short and simple story out of my head because it feels personal. Jamie Ruppert is my age, living in my corner of my home state. She’s one of the people who broke my heart into pieces when I saw Pennsylvania go red on election night, the final dagger in my soul. She seems sweet. She is quick to report that she voted for Obama twice. That she loves gay people. She might have been my friend in high school. 

After thinking about Jamie Ruppert for quite some time, I’ve realized that I don’t hate her. John Lewis tells us we shouldn’t hate, and so I’m not. I don’t hate Jamie Ruppert. But god, she makes me frustrated.

The reason she voted for Trump is the reason that so many millions of Americans say they voted for Trump. Because of the economy. Because she wants more things to say “Made in the USA.” Because she misses the blue collar jobs that Pennsylvania used to find so plentiful in our coal mines and steel mills. But the thing is, SHE IS DOING WELL! Her husband has a job that pays well enough for her to stay at home with her two, soon to be three kids! They JUST BOUGHT A HOUSE!

Jamie Ruppert is literally living the American dream. But because the America around her doesn’t look exactly the same way as it did when her parents were her age, she looks her American dream right in the face and says, eh, you know what? You are just not good enough.

You voted for Obama twice, Jamie Ruppert. You said you didn’t want to vote for Hillary because she promised more of the same, which you all of a sudden realized you didn’t want anymore. But you also said you care about the economy, Jamie. Obama helped fix the economy. Helping bring us out of the recession, job growth, decreased unemployment, all of it! We still have a lot to do but goddamn our dollar is strong as hell right now! HE DID WHAT YOU WANTED!

Of course, we all know that when someone says it’s about the economy, the ACTUAL reason is a deep rooted misogyny and racism that they can’t face. But still, for the people like Jamie who seem sincere, who want those blue collar jobs back, I mean, I get that. We all want that. But here’s the thing. They have been gone for so long?

Jamie, you and I both grew up in Northeastern Pennsylvania in the 90s, right? Did you also go on a coal mine tour as an elementary school field trip? We did that because the mine was empty. Because it is a vestige of our past. The Steamtown Mall had a coal powered train in the food court out of nostalgia, not out of pride in a surging industry. A fading paper distribution company named Dunder Mifflin is a more accurate portrayal of the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre economy.

Billy Joel produced a song about the factories shutting down in Allentown in NINETEEN EIGHTY TWO FOR CHRIST’S SAKE.

Coal mining, the auto industry, maybe they can come back in some way. Come back meaning, not die completely. That’s at least what the auto industry seems to be doing. And lord knows coal is still cheap as hell and we still use a lot of energy. But it’s never going to be like it was. It hasn’t been for decades. Why are we pretending like all of a sudden in 2017 it’s just happened?

And say you really did believe that the blue collar jobs of white Republicans’ wet dreams could come back. Do you really believe that Donald Trump, a Yankee billionaire, is going to do that for you? Even his Make America Great Again hats were made in China. You know why? Donald Trump knows how to make money. That’s all he cares about (along with being liked). Nobody who’s as greedy and selfish as Donald Trump is ever going to choose a more expensive and risky option just for labor’s sake. China, Indonesia, Vietnam. They make our products cheap and fast. We buy them. American businessmen make money. That’s what made Donald Trump. He isn’t going to change it.

Sure, he’ll keep making these announcements about companies keeping jobs in the US because of him, even though most of those companies made those decisions without any input from Trump whatsoever. But it’s good, free PR for those companies to go along with it, so hey, they won’t complain. And they’re satisfying, easily digestible stories for the American public. They make more of an impact than just saying “We added howevermany jobs to the economy this month.” That’s just a number. A plant keeping jobs in Michigan, that’s a story. It’s brilliant, really. It’s effective. But that doesn’t make it real. Those stories are still just tiny drops in a very big bucket, and the water filling that bucket isn’t changing.

And by the way, when those blue collar jobs were making America great? Guess what actually made them great. *whisper shouts* UNIONS. And if you think Trump is going to bring back unions, well, then I really don’t know what kind of drugs you’re on.

It’s just so enragingly disingenuous to say you care about the economy when all you actually care about is a nostalgic fantasy. Because there is a lot that DOES make America great. We continue to be the innovative business leader of the world. The technology that now sits in the pockets of children and adults from sub-Saharan Africa to the Middle East was first created in America. Not that the San Francisco tech world is that perfect either (lord knows none of those devices were actually MADE in Mountain View or Cupertino), but still. There are exciting things happening. Young people are rebuilding Detroit. There are industries (like renewable energy, say) that are just WAITING for young excited people to develop and innovate in. And those innovations could then possibly lead to blue - collar - jobs.

And one last thing. If you care about the economy? If, unlike Jamie Ruppert, you ARE still affected by the recession, and all of Obama’s economic progress still means jackshit to you? Or if you’re doing okay but still hurting? Banks, and billionaires like Trump, are your enemy. Then BERNIE SANDERS is your guy, not Trump. He understands why the recession happened. It was his WHOLE THING. And yeah, I know, Bernie didn’t win, but you’d think you’d want to still follow his advice. And his advice was: don’t be fucking idiots, America.

We didn’t listen.

I know, of course, that people like Jamie Ruppert just don’t care enough to think about all of this. They lead comfy enough lives that they don’t have to. She probably doesn’t watch the news much. She’s about to have three small kids. It’s a busy life. She had just enough time to look around her and think about how America, and her little corner of it, looks different than it used to. And the anxiety that produces? That’s enough. That’s enough to ruin it for everyone else.

Even though those changes that make one person anxious–they could be another person’s entire future. It could mean people get to dream dreams that they were never able to before. It could mean greater equality, better justice, which, by the way, often leads to a stronger economy. In all organic systems, diversity is good. Diversity is necessary for survival. Change could mean America continuing to be the freest, most successful nation on the planet. It could mean so much.

But Jamie probably doesn’t know enough of those other people. Those people that see a different America as exciting instead of worrisome.

So the anxiety lives on.

The good thing.

Times are tough. You might not have loved Obama as much or as thoroughly as I did. I get it. It’s fine. But god, his farewell address? We all deserved that. We deserved that last bit of eloquence and level headed-ness, intelligence and class. We deserved taking some time to just splash around in the joy of his and Joe’s friendship, and in the way he looked at Michelle and the way she looked back, the way his young daughter full of black girl magic clapped and wiped her eyes. And if you didn’t let yourself enjoy even that–well, I hope there’s something in your life that makes you happy. Because we need to cherish those things. Or else we’ll all break.

[dianareagon]

If I wrote you a letter...

Dear Ex-Husband, I have so much I want you to hear, so much I want you to understand about me, my faith, our family, our children, our story... about what you left behind.   No, I didn’t love you when we got married.  I thought I maybe did or did enough, but I was a crazy mess which I know you were drawn to, but I wasn’t happy with myself.  I was out of control and convinced I needed a prince to catch me up in his arms and whisk me away so that I would know I was loved by someone; I craved the feeling of security and acceptance.   You seemed nice and said you were a Christian.  I knew I was avoiding God and wanted to go back, but how?  You were supposed to be that answer. After all, men are supposed to be the Godly leaders of the household and you’d straighten me out.  You, being any man, were my answer.  No, I didn’t see any fruit from your faith, but I also wasn’t producing any at that time, either.  I also forced you into being the answer to so many prayers I had years before when I begged God to give me my college sweetheart; you had the same name and God answers us in his own way, after all.  I twisted you into the “answer” when I knew you weren’t since he wouldn’t have sent me someone to encourage my sinful behavior...Stupid, tunnel-visioned me.  If only I had taken the step back and allowed God to have any influence on my life; I would have seen the red flags I was put blinders on to avoid.  If only I’d looked to Him as the savior he is instead of you. But that wasn’t the story.  I married you because I loved the idea of you and was seeking the love/security from a human that only God can provide.  I see that now years out, but it took time.  I was pregnant or with newborns for over half of our 4.5 year marriage which included the first 9-15 months of our marriage.  Once the ink on that certificate dried, I became very anxious.  This commitment was meant for life and what had I just done?  I wouldn’t ever leave you, but I was angry.  Angry with myself for being stuck, angry with you for not being the husband I had imagined, angry with everything because I still didn’t feel safe, secure, and loved... those first several months were hard without even without the hormones of pregnancy.  This was not safe and secure; this is not what I wanted.  But then this beautiful baby was born. Oh, our first child.  I love her so much and am so grateful for our marriage because of her.  We agreed that the first six months after her birth were horrible with no sleep, pumping, cleaning, feeding, diapers, limited money and time together, etc.  But we made it through though we didn’t know if we were ever willing to do that again.  We were celebrating your birthday, figuring out our roles in the marriage, making a home together, going on our first vacations with family....  I was learning to love you.  I couldn’t fully, yet, but I was very much learning.  We fought a lot and it was hard since we were both immature and stressed with a new marriage, new baby, new debt, no time together (a huge deal since we spent every moment together prior to Bunny), but I was committed to you and committed to loving you as best as I could. And then Bunny’s and my birthdays happened, you mentioned “divorce,” and I found out you were cheating.  It took you showing me you weren’t safe and didn’t love me in the way I’d hoped for me in SUCH an extreme way for me to go running to God.  I was hurt and letdown.  How could my husband of just over a year have an affair?  And with an aspiring lingerie model who worked at a call center, no less?  (It doesn’t matter, but I find it semi-funny at this point.)  All I could do was plead to God I’d been keeping on a shelf for years to restore my marriage, my heart, my love for Him.  And He did.  He was faithful, true, kind, gracious, loving, forgiving, and safe.  He welcomed me with open arms as if I hadn’t wandered from them before.  It finally clicked.  You weren’t my safety, He was.   After a lot of counseling, praying, talking, and patience you came back.  I was walking on eggshells to keep you, but I committed to be married to you for life and that promise was renewed as my relationship with Christ grew.  I realized I truly loved you and you said you did, too.  You told me my commitment to you was overwhelming proof of my love for you and you couldn’t begin to remember the mindset you were in when you thought about leaving the marriage.  I continued working on myself, the marriage, and being a mom which I loved... I loved it enough to do it all over again and I thought you wanted it, too.  However, your reaction when I took the test and it came back positive left a lot to be desired.  It still hurts. So with pregnancy #2 underway, I did slack a bit on my part.  I was tired, nauseous, emotional, anxious, and it was a rough pregnancy just one year after your affair.  I didn’t focus on God or you as I needed to with so many scares throughout and feeling like I was doing it on my own including raising the toddler... whom you even noticed didn’t mind you like she did me.  I understand you worked a lot and worked out, but I had wished you would have asked me more about it, shown up to a few more of the appointments, or even initiated conversations so I could have talked my feeling out instead of me just spouting.  But that didn’t happen.  I wanted to go out on dates, I wanted you to want to know me and begged you to get to know me until we were both angry.  And when I felt unloved and unheard, I didn’t hold my tongue and I slipped into old habits of nagging because you didn’t pay bills again that month or take out the trash yet again.  I was trying to turn you into the “prince” who would give me security I longed for because I’m a forgetful human....I still very much loved Jesus and had a relationship with him, but it stagnated as I felt you drawing away and my anxiety kicking in and telling me to get things under control.   I started writing on the calendar how often we were fighting, how you were disappearing every other weekend and skipping out on time with Bunny and me.  You were lying to me, apologizing, and lying about more.  How could you during a scary pregnancy?  How could you after you promised me you’d never leave again?  How could you after all the counseling?  How could you WHILE I was communicating my anxieties with this all looking like you leaving and maybe cheating again?  When I had the twins, we even had the discussion in the delivery room that I needed you not to disappear every other weekend.  I needed you here with me.  I needed you to be attentive and here. I needed you to actually pay the bills and quit lying to me constantly.  I felt scared and unsafe.  I needed you to be there for me.  You apologized and promised to be better.   But it didn’t matter.  I could talk to you all I wanted, but you didn’t actually love me.  I think you may have thought you did, but you loved yourself more and you probably even liked the idea of marriage beforehand... but it was hard and messy, especially so with the wife you proposed to. You didn’t love me and I couldn’t control you or force you to.  So there I was with babies I brought home from the NICU just 1.5 months prior staying with my parents while you were sorting things out.  Exactly 2 years since the last time you decided to leave; two years since your last affair. Two years since the birthday I spent alone in a park with Bunny.... I spent it without you, again.  Not even a text “happy birthday.”  You were gone.  You didn’t leave me for yet another weekend, you left me for good.  Your heart had completely hardened towards me and had softened to another.  I was alone with 3 baby girls and a dog.  Alone with no income.  Alone, unloved, and completely unsafe. I married you because I wanted to feel safe and loved.  You provided the opposite in every way imaginable. But, I’ve chosen to be grateful for our marriage in-part as this past year has gone along.  I still love you and care deeply about you though I know you aren’t good for me; you aren’t the solution and you’ve actually been a huge part of perpetuating the problem.  I learned marriage isn’t the answer and other humans will always fail you.  Security, everlasting love, goodness, truth, confidence, worth, hope... all of that can only be found in Christ.  I also have three amazing girls from our marriage whom I love deeply and give me purpose in this world.  I have a deeper relationship with family and especially my dad in wake of your affairs.  I have relationships with other Christians, am involved in a few Bible study groups, am volunteering and making more connections than I did in our entire relationship.  I have connected with other abandoned mothers and have grown immensely in my relationship and faith with God.  I’ve found security and love.  I no longer rely on you for my confidence and self-worth.  I am worthy of love despite you.  I am worthy of friendship, respect, kindness. I am worthy of everything you didn’t give me.  I am worthy because God says I am.   I hope you find your worth in Him, too.  He loves you so much and will pursue you, but it is your choice. This letter  is only a slight glimpse of my thoughts that are forever changing as I grow and ponder different aspects of our life together and my growth in it....I have so much more to say, but that’s a letter for a different day. With love, Your ex-wife