#national prayer service

[victusinveritas]

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor’ and ‘hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be like your Father in heaven, since he causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Even the tax collectors do the same, don’t they? And if you only greet your brothers, what more do you do? Even the Gentiles do the same, don’t they? So then, be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Da Big JC

More below the cut.

From Rebecca Solnit:

Yeah, we've reached the state where Christian nationalists hate Jesus and anyone like him. "Sin of empathy." [Last] screenshot is Speaker Johnson having a hissy fit about that Episcopalian's sermon.

Some Bible passages on love and kindness, for the record:

John: 13:34

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.

Matthew:

36 Master, which is the great commandment in the law?

37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

38 This is the first and great commandment.

39 And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

40 On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

Zachariah, Old Testament

8Then the word of the Lord came to Zechariah, saying,

9“Thus says the Lord of hosts:

‘Execute true justice,

Show [g]mercy and compassion

Everyone to his brother.

10Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless,

The alien or the poor.

Let none of you plan evil in his heart

Against his brother.’

Galatians 5:22

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,

Psalm 31:21

Blessed be the Lord: for he hath shewed me his marvellous kindness in a strong city.

Colossians 3:11-13

11 Where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free: but Christ is all, and in all.

12 Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering;

13 Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.

2 Peter 1

5 And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge;

6 And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness;

7 And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.

8 For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

9 But he that lacketh these things is blind, and cannot see afar off, and hath forgotten that he was purged from his old sins.

[saywhat-politics]

🚨WATCH: Donald Trump and JD Vance mockingly laugh at the National Prayer Service when the National Cathedral Bishop proclaims "let us pray for the most vulnerable."

These monsters are the antethesis of what Jesus preached.

[sports45]

Trump demands apology, criticizes bishop’s prayer service remarks

President Trump early Wednesday morning slammed the reverend at a National Cathedral prayer service for the inauguration who called on him to have mercy on transgender children and immigrant families.

Trump, in a lengthy post on Truth Social, called Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde’s remarks “nasty” and not smart.

“The so-called Bishop who spoke at the National Prayer Service on Tuesday morning was a Radical Left hard line Trump hater. She brought her church into the World of politics in a very ungracious way. She was nasty in tone, and not compelling or smart,” he said.

Read more

[thenewdemocratus]

Inside Edition: Donald Trump Demands Apology From Bishop Who Prayed For 'Mercy'

Source:The New Democrat “Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde used her time in the pulpit during the National Cathedral prayer service to ask for mercy for the marginalized from the 47th President. She mentioned members of the LGBTQ+ community, the poor, and immigrants. Bishop Budde reminded those in attendance of the biblical command to welcome strangers. The President blasted the Bishop on his social…

[cavenewstimes]

The Antithesis of Christ: How MAGA Christianity Distorts Jesus’ Teachings

In a powerful sermon delivered at the National Prayer Service in Washington, D.C., Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde courageously confronted the disconnect between the MAGA movement and the true teachings of Jesus Christ. Her message, which urged President Trump and his followers to show empathy for the vulnerable, exposed the glaring contradictions in the brand of Christianity espoused by the far-right.…

[marvelgreyson]

"May I ask you to have mercy Mr. President..."

I wish this was just the audio because the visual isn’t much. Part of Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde’s sermon at a National Prayer Service at Washington's National Cathedral.

[shutterandsentence]

"Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in Your instruction."

-Psalm 119:18

Photo: Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Trust in God for Deliverance from Enemies

1 Give ear to my words, O Lord; give heed to my groaning. 2 Hearken to the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to thee do I pray. 3 O Lord, in the morning thou dost hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for thee, and watch.

4 For thou art not a God who delights in wickedness; evil may not sojourn with thee. 5 The boastful may not stand before thy eyes; thou hatest all evildoers. 6 Thou destroyest those who speak lies; the Lord abhors bloodthirsty and deceitful men.

7 But I through the abundance of thy steadfast love will enter thy house, I will worship toward thy holy temple in the fear of thee. 8 Lead me, O Lord, in thy righteousness because of my enemies; make thy way straight before me.

9 For there is no truth in their mouth; their heart is destruction, their throat is an open sepulchre, they flatter with their tongue. 10 Make them bear their guilt, O God; let them fall by their own counsels; because of their many transgressions cast them out, for they have rebelled against thee.

11 But let all who take refuge in thee rejoice, let them ever sing for joy; and do thou defend them, that those who love thy name may exult in thee. 12 For thou dost bless the righteous, O Lord; thou dost cover him with favor as with a shield. — Psalm 5 | Revised Standard Version (RSV) Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1946, 1952, and 1971 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved. Cross References: 1 Kings 8:36; Psalm 1:5; Psalm 1:1; Psalm 2:11-12; Psalm 3:3; Psalm 9:2; Psalm 9:16; Psalm 36:12; Psalm 11:5; Psalm 13:3; Psalm 23:3; Psalm 28:2; Psalm 29:11; Psalm 34:16; Psalm 36:12; Psalm 43:1; Psalm 52:4; Psalm 54:2; Psalm 55:17; Psalm 59:16; Psalm 84:3; Psalm 140:6; Romans 1:30; Romans 3:13

[fivepercentgodsandearths]

Peace

Born Justice goes thru history of gaining Knowledge of Self, First Born Prince Allah and much more.

Look for Born Justice Allah on social media spaces, only if you're to add on the cipher.

Peace

[tuungaq]

nothing feels quite as spiritually healing this rosh hashanah as registering for high holy day services with an antizionist congregation

[sports45]

'Desperate': Pastors, conservatives unleash on Episcopal bishop for 'weaponizing' the pulpit against Trump

The Washington, D.C., pastor who delivered a liberal sermon during a church service attended by President Donald Trump and Vice President JD Vance is facing fierce backlash from fellow pastors, as well as critics on social media for "weaponizing" the pulpit instead of promoting unity. 

Read more

[thosemotivationalquotes]

I saw something in the news today that truly took my breath away. If you have been paying attention to U.S. politics over the past few days, you’ve most likely seen this woman:

This is Bishop Mariann Budde, and on Monday (Trump’s inauguration) she led an interfaith prayer for Trump and the incoming administration. During the service she asked him to have mercy for LGBTQ+ Americans and undocumented immigrants. This was badly received by the Trump administration (as expected).

After seeing headlines about this woman, I read something that I wanted to share. In 1998 a man named Matthew Shepard was murdered for being gay. I’m not going to get into the details of his death on this post, but please be warned it is extremely triggering if you do choose to read more on your own. Matthew Shepard’s death caused a lot of change in the U.S. regarding how LGBTQ hate crimes are handled, and laws that were passed to protect LGBTQ+ people.

Now you’re probably wondering what Matthew Shepard has to do with an Episcopal bishop. For years after Matthew Shepard’s murder, his family had held onto his remains, too scared to lay him to rest in fear of his final resting place being vandalized. In 2018, Budde had his remains interred at the National Cathedral, which is also the place where the interfaith prayer for Trump and his administration took place. The impact of this really had an effect on me. Budde could have led a non confrontational prayer service, and chosen not to mention the harm that will come to the people Trump and his administration are going after. Instead she chose to call out hate and fear in front of some of the most powerful people on the planet, and at a place that has such a large historic meaning to the LGBTQ community.

In the next few years there will be many challenges in protecting free speech, standing up against hate, and protecting those in our communities. But I would like to believe that for every Donald Trump and Elon Musk, there are people like Marianne Budde. There are those of us who can’t speak up for themselves, so it’s important for those of us who can to amplify our voices, even if it’s not the ‘popular’ thing to do.

“And he said you should apologize. Will you apologize?

I am not going to apologize for asking for mercy for others.” - Mariann Budde’s response in a Time interview

Link to articles: x x x

Link to the Matthew Shepard Foundation if you would like to donate

[roach-works]

i went to temple recently because my mom died and literally every single jew there agreed that the nation of israel is conducting a genocide against Palestine and needs to be stopped. every single one of us. there had to be forty of us there, a chunk of us mourning my mom, and the service was entirely prayers for palestinian safety and justice. do you know how insane it is to have forty jews agree on something? to speak in absolute unison? to shelve our grief for our personal losses in the face of such an inarguable atrocity? to speak of nothing but the need for action?

it's hard to articulate the scope and weight of this horror. it's imperative to communicate, though, the burning intensity of american jews who have turned irrevocably against zionism and the mandate of israel to provide us with a homeland.

[helen-with-an-a]

hey i know that this is a senstive topic but i was wondering if you could write a barca x reader, where reader take transit from her home to the training grounds even tho multiple teammates have told her they will drive her but she doesn't want to be a burden. when on the bus or train she gets off at a stop and is walking home when she hears a guy behind her, this guy pulls her into an area (bushes, alley way) and r*pe's her. after the next day at training she really quiet and people notice she has disengaged and ask her about it until she breaks down about how embrassed she is because she think this guy has taken her virginity until someone like alexia explains that she hasn't and says she will stay with her and she will take her too and from training..

I know it is a senstive topic and if you don't wan to write it I totally understand <3

Hi - so this is a very deep topic that I have no experience with but I did change it to something that I have some experience with. Please read this with your own safety and well-being in mind - if this is something you feel like you cannot read, please do not do so. If this is happening, or if anything similar is happening please contact someone.

UK Rape and Sexual Abuse Hotline: 0808 500 2222 or their website

USA National Victims Hotline: phone or text 1-855-4VICTIM (855-484-2846) or their website

Australia Sexual Assault Crisis Line: 1800 806 292 or their website

Spain Delegación del Gobierno contra la Violencia de Género: 016 or their website

France Victimes Plus Jamais Sueles: +33 (0)1 45 88 19 00; 0884284637 or their website

Germany: 0049 30 32299500; or their website

Here is a list of other hotlines for countries across Europe and the World

Withdrawn

Barça Femeni x Reader (mainly Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Description: R comes back after the Winter break a lot more withdrawn

Word Count: 4.1k

TW: Somewhat described SA (coercion and r*pe); Mental Health; Attempted forced sex (nothing actually happens a boy just tries to demand sex); Mentions of repressed sexuality due to religion (Catholicism)

You had known for quite a while that you weren't straight. It wasn't a sudden revelation or a fleeting thought; it was something that had always known. From the moment you caught yourself staring just that little bit too long at one of the girls at Sunday School, her wavy hair tied back in a nice, neat braid, her white dress standing out against her tanned skin. You knew you shouldn't but you couldn't help the blush that bloomed on your cheeks when she complimented your knowledge of the story of Joseph in Egypt.

But you weren’t allowed to be anything other than straight. The idea of being anything else was unthinkable, an option that simply did not exist in your world. Your family’s strict Catholic beliefs dictated every aspect of life, from the prayers said before meals to the unwavering attendance at church multiple times a week. You were expected to follow the path laid out for you, one that led to a conventional life with a husband and children.

You even had a boyfriend, the perfect outward proof that you were living the perfect life. On the surface, everything seemed right – everything appeared as it should be.

He was nice enough – he ticked all the boxes that would make your family proud. He went to church regularly, sitting beside you in the pews, nodding in all the right places during Mass. He smiled at you warmly, his hand finding yours as he guided you over to the Priest after the service was finished. He played the role of the ideal boyfriend with ease, taking you out for meals at family-friendly restaurants, making sure to always choose a place your parents would approve of. On weekends, he’d take you down to the beach after watching your matches, where you’d walk along the shore, hand in hand, just like a picture-perfect couple.

From the outside, everything about your relationship seemed flawless. People would comment on how lucky you were, how well you two fit together, and how you were on the right track for a happy, conventional future. His kindness was genuine, you think; he treated you well, and in many ways, he was everything you were supposed to want. Yet, you just ... couldn't. You knew what you were, who you were. And yet, you just couldn't.

He was the one to suggest it – heading up to the bedroom during a birthday party. You could tell by the way he leaned in close, his voice low and teasing, that he was testing the waters. “Everyone’s doing it,” he whispered with a playful wink, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair off your forehead. There was a casual confidence in his tone like this was just the next step, something as natural as breathing. It was an unspoken rule among your friends, a rite of passage that no one questioned.

It hurt – that's the thing you remember most. The discomfort, the sharp sting that made you wince, the feeling of his nails scratching as he fumbled around, the burn as he pushed himself inside. You definitely weren’t wet enough, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

He had kissed you for maybe all of five minutes beforehand, it was messy and too wet, his tongue leaving a trail of spit in its wake. His hands bunched up your skirt without much warning. His calloused hand scratched against your soft skin as he parted your thighs.

Then, without much warning, he slid his fingers inside you, and that’s when the pain started. It was clumsy and awkward; his fingers poked and prodded until he finally found what he was looking for. You tried to focus on the fact that at least he had done that, at least he fingered you. You told yourself that it was a kindness, that it could have been worse, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

He had lasted 78 seconds – longer than you’d honestly expected. The whole experience was surreal like you were watching it happen to someone else. When it was over, you lay there, trying to make sense of what had just happened, the seconds ticking away in the silence that followed. You felt like crying, but nothing happened – you just lay there as he pulled out and slumped down next to you.

It wasn’t until after that you fully realised he hadn’t used a condom. You had asked him to, your voice far weaker than you ever wanted. Instead, he had smirked, a self-assured, almost arrogant expression crossing his face. “Who are we to stand in the way of God’s will?” he said as he slipped his boxers off. His words hung in the air, shame swirling around you as he settled himself on top of you.

The team could tell something was wrong the moment they saw you. It was the first day back after the winter break, a time when everyone was usually buzzing with energy. You stood, silent and withdrawn, as the team huddled together in the gym, hugging each other and swapping holiday stories.

You weren't laughing, and you definitely weren't smiling, two things that came naturally to you, especially when you were with the team. Normally, you'd be right in the thick of it, cracking jokes and teasing your friends. But today, you just stood there, your arms wrapped around yourself as if to ward off a cold only you could feel, your eyes fixed on the edge of the mat.

It was as if the world around you had faded away. Pere was explaining the drills for the day, but his words seemed distant, muffled, like they were coming from underwater. You didn't hear a thing he said, didn't register the plans for practice, or the way he glanced at you, concern flickering in his eyes.

You weren’t even thinking, there was nothing in your mind. Just a static hum. A silent scream, begging for someone to hear it.

Alexia’s eyes followed you wearily, her gaze filled with a concern she couldn’t quite mask, as you moved with a mechanical stiffness toward where your parents were standing. It was as if someone had dimmed the light that normally shone from within you, leaving behind only a shadow of the person Alexia knew.

Your parents stood nearby, waiting for you with warm smiles. She liked your parents, the whole team did. They were supportive in a way that wasn’t overbearing, always ready with a kind word or a hug after a tough match. They treated you well, and it was clear how much they cared about you. They were proud of you, and that pride shone through in everything they did, from the way they cheered in the stands to the thoughtful little gestures they made to show their love.

You boyfriend was the same. He kissed you gently, pulling you into a hug afterwards and smiling widely. He was a nice enough boy, the kind that anyone would consider a good match. Polite and respectful, he always knew the right thing to say, the right way to act in any situation. He seemed to be hardworking, dedicated to whatever he set his mind to, whether it was his studies, his own sports, or supporting you. He always had your name emblazoned across his back, your Barça shirt pulled proudly over his jumper.

“What are you staring at?” Patri asked as she came over to see what was taking so long. She followed Alexia's gaze, trying to see what had caught her attention so completely.

“Nena,” Alexia replied softly, nodding in your direction. Her eyes were fixed on you, her brow furrowed with concern. You were only a few feet away, but you seemed distant as if you were somewhere else entirely. Your mother was speaking rapidly, her hands moving in animated gestures as she tried to make a point, her usual lively energy on full display. But you ... you weren’t responding.

You were staring over your mum’s shoulder, your eyes unfocused, a blank expression on your face. It was as if the words and movements were passing right through you, not registering at all. There was an emptiness in your gaze that made Alexia’s heart ache.

Patri glanced at you and then back at Alexia, sensing the tension in the air. “Is she okay?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with concern. It was clear to both of them that something was off. You weren’t yourself. Something had changed, something had happened to you.

Alexia didn’t answer right away. She kept her eyes on you, trying to read the expression that flickered across your face for just a moment before the blankness returned as your boyfriend leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. It was like watching a ghost of you, a version of you that had somehow lost its spark. She could tell you were going through the motions, nodding occasionally, but your heart wasn’t in it. You weren’t really there.

“I don’t know,” Alexia finally murmured, her voice heavy with worry.

You had never been more grateful for that day. The day Alexia finally figured it all out. It had been a couple of weeks since the game, and your withdrawal had only got worse. You had been distant, more so than ever, drifting further into your thoughts, away from everything and everyone.

It was a family and friends event. It was done every year, a chance for the team and staff to show off where the players spent far too many hours. You had brought your boyfriend along, his hand clasped tightly in yours as you stared vacantly out the window, your mind elsewhere.

“Mija, what is wrong with Nena?” Eli asked, her voice hushed. She was watching you for a little while, her maternal instincts immediately picking up that something wasn’t right.

“I’m not sure, Mamí,” Alexia sighed, her gaze following her mother’s to where you stood. "She’s been off for a while now. Something happened over the winter break, but I can’t get her to open up. I think she’s spoken maybe ten words since we came back. She's playing ok, but it's like she's a shell or something.”

Alexia’s eyes lingered on you, her heart aching at the sight of your blank expression, the light that usually danced in your eyes completely gone. Your boyfriend, standing next to you, was chatting happily with Frido and her partner, seemingly unaware (or uncaring) of whatever was going on with you.

Eli’s brow furrowed, her frown deepening as she observed the boy you had brought along. “I do not like that boy,” she muttered, her voice low but firm in a way that only mothers can manage.

Alexia turned to her mother, surprised. “What? Mamí, you haven’t even spoken to him. He’s actually quite nice. Honestly, he's at every match, he takes her out for dinners and walks along the beach.”

But Eli wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as they stayed locked on him. “Something is off about him,” she insisted, her voice resolute. "And he has something to do with why she’s like this. I know it."

Alexia shook her head slightly but couldn’t shake the seed of doubt her mother had planted.

She hadn’t meant to follow you, but something about the way he leaned in and whispered in your ear set off alarm bells. Eli had nudged Alexia, nodding as they saw the way your body stiffened, the flash of terror that crossed your face, and before she could even blink, he was pulling you toward the door, a tight grip on your wrist.

“I’ll be right back, Mamí,” Alexia said quickly, placing a swift kiss on her mother’s cheek. Her eyes never left the door as she followed you out into the corridor, her heart racing.

“No, please. Not here,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, but the fear was unmistakable.

“C’mon, you always do this. Loosen up a little.” His voice was laced with impatience and disdain.

“Please, I could get in serious trouble, please,” you begged again, your voice shaking.

“You’ll only get in trouble if we get caught,” he snapped. “And we won’t. And the good Lord himself knows you aren’t loud enough for anyone to hear. You're mute whenever we do anything.”

Alexia’s heart dropped at his words. What did he mean by that? Her pace quickened as she neared the corner, desperate to understand what was happening.

“N-no, I don’t want to,” you said again, but this time your voice was quieter, weaker, as if the fight in you was slowly crumbling.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered angrily. “I’m not asking for much.”

Alexia’s fists clenched at his tone, her pulse pounding in her ears. She rounded the corner just as you spoke again.

“I’m not having sex at my place of work,” you said, your voice trembling.

“We are having sex if I say we’re having sex,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. “Now, tell me where the bathrooms are.”

Alexia froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she realised the full extent of what was happening. She could hear your sharp intake of breath, the panic rising within you. Without thinking, Alexia stepped forward.

“She said no.”

The air in the corridor seemed to freeze the moment Alexia’s voice sliced through the thick tension. You and your boyfriend both whipped around to face her, but the reactions couldn't have been more different. Your eyes, wide with shock, held a flicker of hope, you looked terrified. His face, however, twisted into something much darker – his initial surprise quickly morphing into a simmering anger. He wasn’t used to being challenged.

“Alexia, uh… Ms. Putellas, h-how are you?” he stammered, forcing a false smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His voice was dripping with fake politeness, but the way his hand clenched even tighter around your wrist betrayed his frustration. You gasped at the pain.

Alexia’s gaze locked on that grip, her expression hardening with every passing second. “Get your hands off her.” Her voice sharp as steel.

For a moment, he didn’t move, as if contemplating whether or not to challenge her, but Alexia’s posture, her deadly calm, told him she wasn’t bluffing. She would not let this go. He shifted his weight uncomfortably but tried to keep his facade intact.

“She just said she wasn’t feeling great,” he replied, his voice now oozing with a sickly sweetness that made both your stomachs churn. “I was just trying to help her, but she can’t seem to remember where the bathrooms are.” He forced a chuckle.

Alexia’s eyes narrowed, her anger intensifying. She could see right through him. The tension in the air thickened, and you stood frozen between them, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Let her go. Now,” Alexia repeated, her voice dropping dangerously low. Her eyes blazed with fury, daring him to defy her. You had never seen Alexia like this before.

He hesitated, glancing between you and Alexia. His expression flickered for just a moment – fear, perhaps? But then it was gone, replaced by the cold, calculating demeanour he wore like armour.

“She’s fine,” he snapped, the fake calm slipping from his voice as irritation began to creep in. He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to get involved in this. It’s just a little misunderstanding. You know how she gets sometimes.”

“She said no,” Alexia said, voice cutting like a blade. “I heard everything.” Her words were a warning.

His jaw tightened, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. For a moment, it seemed like he might push back further, but something in Alexia’s stare made him falter. With a frustrated grunt, he finally released your wrist, shoving your arm away as if you were burning him.

“There. Happy now?” he sneered.

Alexia stepped forward, placing herself between you and him, her protective presence like a barrier you hadn’t realised you desperately needed. “Leave,” she ordered, her voice low and firm.

He glared at her for a long, tense moment. He spat a curse under his breath and turned on his heel, storming down the corridor. His footsteps echoed as he disappeared from sight, leaving a thick silence behind.

Your knees buckled. Alexia caught you instantly, wrapping her arms around you as you trembled, barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“It’s okay,” she whispered softly, her voice gentle now, all the sharp edges from before melted away. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”

You clung to her, the sobs you had been holding back finally escaping as you buried your face in her shoulder. Alexia held you tighter, her strong arms wrapped around you, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles on your back. For the first time in weeks, you let yourself feel everything – the fear, the exhaustion, the relief.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you choked out, your voice muffled against her.

“Shhhhh,” she cooed, her voice soft, far gentler than you had ever heard it. Alexia wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t the person who handled emotions – she was the tough-love captain, the one who pushed everyone to be stronger, to keep going no matter what. If anyone needed comfort, they usually turned to Irene or Marta. But here she was, holding you as you broke down in her arms, her strong body a lifeline you clung to with all your might,

Alexia glanced down at you, finally taking in the full extent of your state. Her heart clenched as she really looked at you. Your body, normally so full of energy and strength, felt fragile in her arms, your bones too close to the surface for her liking.

Your eyes, once bright with life and determination, were now sunken and dark, the glow that used to radiate from your skin dulled. The light that she had always associated with you had faded, and it was only now that she realised how far you had fallen. Guilt gnawed at her – how had she not seen it sooner?

“You’re too thin,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to you, her brow furrowing with concern. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shook your head, pulling back just enough to look up at her, your face streaked with tears. “I didn’t want to burden anyone,” you whispered, your voice so small, as if you were ashamed of needing help. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” Alexia repeated, her voice cracking ever so slightly. The idea that you thought you were a burden shook her to the core. “You could never bother me; do you understand that?” Her tone was firmer now, but still gentle. She cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. “You’re not alone in this. You’re never alone. You are so loved, so wanted. We've got you ... I've got always”

[saywhat-politics]

Donald Trump signed a slew of executive orders on LGBTQ issues and immigration within hours of being sworn in as president.

Jan. 21, 2025, 1:25 PM MST

By Matt Lavietes and Tara Prindiville

The bishop leading the inaugural prayer service on Tuesday urged President Donald Trump to "have mercy" on his constituents, specifically naming LGBTQ people and immigrants.

The sermon by the Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, the Episcopal bishop of Washington, was part of a larger post-Inauguration Day interfaith ceremony at Washington National Cathedral. Trump was seated in the first row alongside first lady Melania Trump, Vice President JD Vance and second lady Usha Vance during the service, a tradition undertaken by presidents of both parties.

“In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now,” said Budde, who was looking directly at the president. “There are gay, lesbian and transgender children in Democratic, Republican and independent families. Some who fear for their lives.”

She added: "They may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues."