#and so. here we are. edibles and stuff are no longer illegal in my state. dang

[arthur-r]

guys minnesota accidentally legalized weed

[sirkkasnow]

03 Semi-Legitimate Uses Of Gunpowder

Ao3 link

07/04/13 Thursday

The household settled into a comfortable routine over the next few days. Chaos was such an underlying constant in Gravity Falls, particularly with the kids around, that throwing another body into the mix made very little difference.

Clary rose early once she’d recovered from the initial shock. Summer schedules for both kids and adults ran late, which made it easy for her to slip into the kitchen before most everyone else. She’d asked Stan whether she could help cook, he’d offhandedly said sure, and the next thing he knew she was baking things.

The contents of the fridge began to dwindle in interesting ways. Frittatas jammed with too many vegetables materialized on the breakfast table. The sour-cream coffee cake she’d made on Tuesday morning was down to crumbs by Wednesday.

“You’re a guest, not the cook,” Stan argued in exasperation that morning in the crowded kitchen. He dug out a second wedge of egg-potato-and-green-stuff from one of the cast iron skillets.

“If you guys ate anything other than pancakes for breakfast, I’d join you, but I like my eggs. Besides, I don’t see you complaining.” Clary eyed his plate, scrubbing down utensils. Her kerchief for the day – there was always a kerchief for the day, wrapped twice and knotted neatly at her throat, the colors and patterns as varied as Mabel’s sweaters – was a splashy watercolor design of pale yellow daisies. “I’m used to cooking for an army anyway.”

Stan cocked a brow at her in question, and caught the brief flicker of her smile. “My place in Baltimore is this huge brownstone. I’ve got eight bedrooms. I ran a boarding house as a sideline, because what else can you do with eight bedrooms?”

“That sounds exhaustin’.”

“Running tours isn’t? I liked it. Lots of law students, a few graduate accountants.” She chuckled over his groan. “Yes, a very, very nerdy household. We ran DD&MD once a week for years.” Stan saw Dipper perk up from the far side of the kitchen table and started a mental countdown to major geekery. “With that many rules lawyers and number-crunchers around the table things got pretty sidetracked at times.” Clary settled into one of the two free chairs, Mabel leaning over to peep her plate.

“Grunkle Stan? Have you got enough left for one more Stancake? Clary, you have to try one!”

“I don’t usually do pancakes, hon.” Clary begged off gently like she had every morning.

“You don’t get it.” Mabel leaned in, eyes widening. “These are Stancakes. They’re unique. You can’t possibly enjoy the full Pines experience without sampling Stancakes.”

Stan rolled his eyes, took up a rubber spatula and coaxed the last of the batter out of its bowl while Mabel made her pitch. Just enough left for a half-size flapjack, fine, that’d do. He finished that off in the skillet while Clary half-heartedly protested, then slid it onto her plate alongside what was left of her eggs. Mabel applied a river of maple syrup and a scatter of edible glitter before any counter-arguments could be offered.

Clary blinked at the twinkling result for a few blank seconds. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she finally said, and dug in. Mabel stuck out two thumbs up in approval.

Once the Pines clan scattered after breakfast, Clary had been staking out the battered old couch on the porch. Stan had passed her on the way out to the car two mornings in a row now. She wore a wireless earpiece and balanced a laptop on her knees, the picture of professionalism in her summer togs. Sometimes he’d catch bits of what sounded like German as she talked to the air, cajoling or explaining or arguing with whoever was on the far side of the line.

This time he caught her with the computer set to one side, speaking what was definitely German in a soft tone at odds with the usual steel. She spotted him as he tried to slide by and simply relocated her quiet conversation, slipping into the shade of the pines for half an hour before returning to brisk business.

He made a point of keeping an eye on her, and calling out when it was clear she was off the phone. “Hey, Clary!”

“What’s up, Stan?” She leaned back into the cushions as she squinted out at him.

Lawyer humor had turned out to be a rich vein, if a somewhat single-minded one. “What’s the difference between a good lawyer and a bad lawyer?”

She sighed at him in grudging amusement. “A bad lawyer makes your case drag out for years. A good one makes it last even longer. What’s the difference between a good lawyer and a great lawyer?”

“A good lawyer knows the law, a great one knows the judge!” Stan actually chuckled to himself over that one. He straightened, shrugging a shoulder so he could swab off the drop of sweat stubbornly stuck at the tip of his nose.

“You’re not going to outlast me on those, you know.” Clary set aside the computer and strolled over to the wagon, quirking him a momentary grin as she headed around to the back.

“Maybe not. I’m self-taught when it comes to screwing clients over. You’ve got the degree.” Her faint, indignant snort was just audible around the corner. “Whatcha need?” Stan braced his feet and stretched, spine creaking, then came around to see what she was up to.

“The Fourth is tomorrow and I did something a little reckless. I keep forgetting I have these.” She was waist-deep in the wayback, shifting aside a couple of blankets to reveal a flash of brightly-printed color on cheap glossy paper.

“You brought fireworks.” Stan reached past her to hoist the crate. She’d picked out a deluxe assortment of the biggest roadside skyrockets to be had, and he didn’t bother to stifle a twinge of delighted surprise at her audacity.

“Don’t look so shocked. These are legal in Wyoming and there are stands all along the highway at the state borders.”

“All of which have prominent signage sayin’ it’s illegal to transport ‘em across state lines.”

Clary looked fleetingly guilty, then defiant. “You’re right. I read them all and then I ignored them. I’m guessing you know what you’re doing with low-yield explosives. Are you going to help me fire these off or what?”

“You are in luck, Miz Merrick, because I am what passes for the fireworks committee around here, an’ you’ve just bought yourself a ringside seat to this year’s display.” Stan winked and tucked the crate under one arm. “We’re doin’ it on the lake this year. We’re gonna use the old dock and I’ve actually got a permit this time ‘cause the mayor’s a pushover! Which of course just meant it was a little easier to get hold of the good stuff.”

The faint smirk on her lips widened slowly. “Excellent. I was hoping we’d get to blow something up. So we’re going to fire all of these off when the time comes?”

“That we are. Congratulations, you’ve been deputized! Hope you can handle loud noises.”

“I can handle myself just fine, Pines.”

The morning of the Fourth was spent in a frenzy of preparation. Soos, Melody and a grudging but overtime-paid Wendy had the moneymaking end of the venture under control – they would be running concessions at lakeside all evening.

Stan’s job was of course the attractions end of things, which meant explosions, which meant he and Ford were preparing endless mortar racks and crates of mostly-legal fireworks.

Clary, as the spare adult, was recruited into assisting with the munitions. Soos loaned her a paint-spattered canvas work shirt that draped her frame like a tent. Borrowed rubber gloves were cinched in at her wrists with masking tape. Under Ford’s distracted tutelage, she worked patiently on splicing shell fuses into daisy chains.

Stan watched her quick hands for a curious minute. She put as much careful focus into this as she’d put into the hawkweasel thing, perhaps with more concern for potentially blowing off a finger.

They ferried everything down to the lake in relays that afternoon. The oldest, most distant, most splintery of the lake’s docks was where they’d been given permission to set up. The three adults did the bulk of the hauling, dragging setpieces out along the battered planks.

Stan consulted a scrawled-pencil sketch of the layout to keep things more or less in order. Dipper and Mabel were in charge of setting up ‘command central’, which consisted of a few folding chairs, a burn-scarred camp table, and a bulky battery pack for a motley collection of goose-necked lab lamps.

It was after six before they finished most of it. Clary flopped down on the edge of the dock with feet dangling, reading her way through an Oregon fire-safety manual. Mabel and Dipper kicked off their shoes and dashed off down the town beach to mingle with the gathering tourists and locals. Picnics outfitted with grills and beach umbrellas were in full swing by now and the scent of charred hot dogs drifted on the still air.

“Keys, Stanley,” called Ford. Stan tossed them over without bothering to look up. “I’ll be back with the control console in a bit. You’ve got everything you need?”

“We could set all this stuff off by hand, y’know.”

“And leave lengths of fuse lying all over the place? This is so much safer!”

“Not quite as much fun.” Stan waved his brother off, then collected the toolbox and the random bits of picnic stuff they’d hauled down to make the wait until dark more comfortable.

“This is all they’ve got?” Clary muttered, more to herself than to Stan as he hauled over the cooler and set it at her side, elbowing the lid back to fish out a couple of sodas. “This is a twelve-page pamphlet. Most of which consists of ‘do not set up an amateur fireworks display.’” She glanced up to him, accepting a can. “Ford told me that he and the kids actually built a couple of these shells.”

“Chemistry lessons.” Stan shrugged. “Ford knows what he’s doin’, we’ll be fine. We’re gonna hold those until last so that the kiddos can help fire them off. Besides, we’re no amateurs. I’ve been doin’ this for years. Maybe not on this scale.” He looked down the dock along the rows of milk-crate mortar racks, rather pleased with himself. “Usually we’re just firin’ the suckers off from the roof of the Shack for parties.”

“So you’re a pyrotechnician, among your many other titles.” Clary popped her soda can and tapped its edge lightly against his. “Cheers. Nice layout, though I bet it’s just as much fun to improvise.”

“Probably more. This’s a lot of work, but Soos has been layin’ plans since springtime, and what’m I gonna do, say no? If this goes off well he’ll probably pick it up for future years. Not sure if Ford an’ I’ll be here for the next round.”

Stan pivoted and propped himself against the nearest piling, looking out across the lake at the increasing bustle near the main beach. “Though I gotta admit this is a nice way to blow a couple months and we should probably take advantage of the kids’ vacations until they get tired of us.”

“You’ve got just the two grandies, then?” Clary gestured vaguely off down the shoreline. “None of your own?”

“Nah. Too much goin’ on in my life during that stretch.” Way, way too much, he thought. “You?”

“No. Those stars never aligned for me. I’ve got a niece and a nephew, and she’s got two little girls, so I have grand-niblings of my own.”

“Married?” She didn’t sport a ring, but who knew?

“Widowed.”

Oops. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time. You?”

“Married…for six hours. That didn’t end real well.”

She chuckled hollowly into her can. “Neither did mine. Here’s to independence.”

“Siblings?”

“One older sister. You’ve got Ford, and I guess a brother?”

“Shermie, yeah. He’s what passes for the normal one.”

“Someone’s got to be the white sheep in every family. I can assure you that it wasn’t me in mine.” Watching her relax to this extent was a pleasant surprise. Clary had an elbow propped on a bent knee and the starch had gone out of her smile.

“I don’t believe that for a minute.” Stan made a show of looking her up and down, and she went faintly pink under the scrutiny. As usual she was color coordinated, today’s kerchief mostly red with bits of white and blue, hair clipped back with something glassy and scarlet. “Law-abidin’ lady like yourself? Okay, so maybe you smuggle fireworks every now and then, but who wouldn’t?”

“This is my summer for living dangerously, and believe me I have no idea what I’m doing.” Clary looked off down the shoreline to where Mabel was jumping up and down and waving, then twitched in surprise as her phone started to jangle. “Whoops – I think I’m being summoned. See you when we get closer to dusk?”

“Yep, I’m gonna guard the ordnance, I guess, Wendy’s crew probably has runnin’ bets on whether or not they can swipe a few rockets.” Stan tipped his can back to drain it. “Mind haulin’ over my chair while you’re up?”

“Got it.” Clary levered herself upright, dusted off her backside and jogged down to the pier’s end, returning with a folded lawn chair. “Don’t nod off, now.”

“What, with all this thrillin’ readin’ material? Don’t worry about me, kid.” Stan waved her off, set up the chair and settled down with the safety manual. He was out like a light within ten minutes, dozing comfortably in the late-afternoon sun.

He snapped awake twice as the sunlight shaded into deeper and deeper gold. Each time he winged an empty pop can with terrifying accuracy at overcurious kids, sending them scattering. Wendy’s crew, true to form, showed up as the bluff’s shadow crept across the lake.

Stan pinged Thompson in the head with his last empty. He watched them take off and sat up grumbling to look along the shoreline. The sun was nearly down by now, though it’d be forty minutes yet to full dark. Clary and the kids were making their way back, feet splashing at the water’s edge. Right on time.

Unfortunately the control console and Ford hadn’t shown up yet. That was going to be a problem. Stan checked his watch, huffed in frustration and levered himself upright to start setting manual fuses on the closer fireworks racks.

“Kids!” His voice boomed out across the water. “Need you t’check on Poindexter. Clary, you good to set the trigger wires for the far racks?” He waved an arm vaguely at the end of the dock as the three broke into a jog. Dipper dropped off a paper bag that smelled temptingly of grilled stuff on top of the cooler as he hopped onto the worn planks.

“Got it, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel tapped at her phone as the other two split up. Clary threaded her way between milk crates down to the far end and back again to pay out lengths of trigger wire a few at a time. Dipper rummaged up a roll of masking tape, a marker and Stan’s creased layout sketch, and started labeling wires as he tacked them to the dock.

“Five minutes! Says he found a short!” Mabel ran to help Stan substitute lengths of extra fuse for wires on the closest few racks, her quick fingers making short work of masking-tape splices. “I don’t know why we didn’t just stick to the old fuses. Those worked great last year!”

“Because we nearly burned down the Shack last year.” Dipper accepted the last couple of wires from Clary and tagged them neatly.

“Don’t sweat it, kids, you think I didn’t bring backups?” Stan fished out a battered matchbook, dropped it into his breast pocket for easy access and reached for the paper bag. “Eat up, gremlins, it’s almost showtime.”

Ford finally screeched in as they were all finishing off the last few bites of hot dog. He ran full-tilt up to the dock, gasping out vague apologies about losing track of time. The control console hit the top of the camp table with a thud. Between Ford and Dipper the numbered wires were clipped into the rig at terrifying speed, Mabel angling a gooseneck lamp to illuminate the tags in the near-dark.

“We’re missing two banks – Stanley.” Ford glared as he finished counting wires, and Stan shrugged.

“Didn’t know when you’d be back, set those up with quickfuse. We’ll be fine.” He fished a couple of punks out of the toolbox of backup gear, checked his watch, then looked downshore. “I’m gonna give ‘em fifteen more minutes of desperate anticipation. Then we’ll light ‘em up.”

Clary rocked on her heels in impatience, squinting down along the lake’s edge to the scatter of lights and silhouetted townsfolk at the main beach. Stan leaned over to murmur in her ear. “Your stuff’s all set up on one of the racks we just did fuses for, so I’ll have you touch those off. This’s what we’re usin’….”

He explained the slow-burning punk, basically an incense stick that’d hold just enough of an ember to do the job, and pressed his spare into her palm. “We’ll get that goin’ in a minute. Don’t set anythin’ on fire unless you mean to. Ready?”

Light was scarce, all the color washed out of her profile, but her eyes shone. “Ready.”

“Check the time and cue it up please, Mabel,” Ford said, a little too cheerful as he and Dipper settled in behind the control console with its dozens of little labeled switches.

Mabel tapped a couple of phone buttons and a low, mournful orchestral score started up, tinny through the tiny speakers. The opening bars echoed faintly over the lake from the speakers set up at Soos’ end.

Clary leaned over to peer at Mabel’s phone, brows rising as a baritone voice kicked in. “Tulen Synty? This is Finnish.”

“It’s ‘The Origin of Fire’. Eight and a half minutes. Perfect!” Ford flipped the first couple of switches and a few popping rockets went up from the far end of the dock. Distant whoops of approval drifted across the lake.

Stan tugged out the matches and got both his and Clary’s punks going. “He wanted to choreograph it, the racket will drown most of it out anyhow, and it’s too old for anyone to go after us for royalties. Works for me.”

The display built up slowly, Ford singing absently under his breath as he triggered one batch of mortars after another. It took two minutes of strings and woodwinds for things to get really interesting. Dipper, Mabel and Clary all tilted their heads back to watch while Stan snagged a lamp and angled it at the manual fuses.

At five minutes the men’s choir on the track welled up full-throated. Ford kicked off the first few of the big rockets with precise flicks of fingertips. Half lit from below and chuckling to himself, he looked just a bit unhinged. Might as well get it out of his system.

“Aight – you’re up, Clary, get over here.” She jolted with surprise from the piling she’d been leaning against with Mabel, watching the explosions. “We’re mixin’ in your batch, you get to light these. C’mon, nothin’s gonna bite.” Stan nudged her into place at the right spot. “Right here, just start from the end of this row, there ya go.”

Clary lit four in succession, her grin incandescent in the reflected light of the down-angled lamp. “Good?”

“Good, now step back, kid!” The fuses were hissing fiercely and he half-turned to shield her as the sparks began to fly and the rockets went up, one-two-three-four, screech-flash-bang, chrysanthemum bursts of fractured light reflected in the cool black mirror of the lake. The squeal of delight she produced was nearly as high-pitched as Mabel’s. It was like teenage-girl stereo for a few seconds and Stan laughed, pointing down the line. “Nice! Next batch, go get ‘em!”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm with the last half of the shells. Ford flicked switches with a conductor’s grandiose concentration to fire off his carefully coordinated and ever-escalating barrage. Dipper scrambled up to stand on the cooler, swapping off between three different cameras to get both digital and film exposures.

Stan knelt with the spare punk as the orchestral track soared to its conclusion. With Clary’s help he set off an impressive, noisy and entirely random volley of the leftover rockets to wrap it up.

Once the echoes faded, they all settled back to listen to distant, ragged cheers from the shoreline.

All in all it was definitely one of his better shows.

Stan straightened, hands to hips as he flexed and grunted and felt something shift between his shoulderblades. All that craning to squint up at the sky took it out of a man. “Dipper, Mabel, I’ve got a last batch for you guys to light up, c’mon over. Saved some of the little ones.”

“Little ones?” Mabel was all indignation as Stan dragged over the last couple of racks. Ford unclipped wires by the fistful from the back of his console and jogged off along the dock with a flashlight to check for duds, humming in contentment.

“So maybe I’m a little more wrapped up in safety concerns than I used t’be. Maybe.” Stan made sure Ford’s line of sight was otherwise occupied, then held up a fat, foil-printed skyrocket and waggled it with a wink at Mabel and Dipper. “Let’s fire up this last handful.”

Clary spooled up trigger wire and watched in amusement as Stan handed off the punks and made sure both Mabel and Dipper got to fire off the remainder of the rockets. The two largest he held until last. Those went up with a rising screech and a deep boom, crackling showers of blue and purple sparks cascading down to sputter out before hitting the water.

Both the kids whooped in delight. Ford was startled enough to deliver a brief, stern lecture on safety protocol which Stan waved off. They’d all blown up bigger things than this and seriously Ford had no room to talk.

It was just about midnight when they finished loading the control setup into the El Diablo. The empty racks they left for pickup in the morning, given that everyone was all but swaying on their feet. The five of them draggled up to the car with the last couple of chairs and the cooler.

Clary and the kids packed themselves into the back, chatting sleepily about past Fourths and the best fireworks they’d ever seen. The conversation petered out as Dipper, then Mabel nodded off. Clary turned her tired gaze up to the front seat. “Very impressive, fellas. Never thought I’d get to participate in one of these personally.”

Despite the afternoon nap, Stan was pretty wiped out himself. Ford was still irritatingly alert and chirped up. “Where did you pick up on Sebelius, Clary? I didn’t know you were a fan of the classics.”

Clary settled a careful arm around Mabel, who’d tipped into her side. “I got stranded in Helsinki by a weather reroute last year. There wasn’t much to do at that hour so I just wandered and read everything I could find. Tulen Synty came up in something about the Kalevala.”

“Finland! We have that on the list for next year, perhaps Saimaa if the boat’s up to it. Were you out there for business or pleasure?”

Worn out as he was, Stan picked up on her momentary hesitation. “Some of both, I guess. I have family in Switzerland and I expect to be working in Zurich for a while come fall.”

“That the niece and nephew?” Stan nudged. “And your sister?”

Her eyes tracked to his in the mirror. “That’s the crew. I’ve got a mess of cousins in Alabama, but I can’t say the South ever really agreed with me.”

“Definitely didn’t agree with me. Pretty sure I’m still banned in everythin’ but Mississippi, and that’s because it was never worth my time to get into trouble in Mississippi.” That didn’t quite get a laugh, but he preferred the glimmer of her smile to that look of exhaustion.

Shame Switzerland’s land-locked, he thought absently, and kept her busy with some of the less embarrassing stories about his travels in Dixie until they made it home to the Shack.

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She looks guilty, then defiant. “Are you going to help me fire these off or what?”

No way, she’s a potential liability.

Maybe she can help out with concessions.

Hell yes, let’s blow stuff up!

[asl4nrawkz-blog]

A Few thoughts from a Christian

By no means am I thee best Christian in the world. Obviously there are many other candidates for that role. However I’m pretty devastated by how some Christians act these days towards other PEOPLE.

First of all I’m sort of sorry if I offend you. Maybe I am, lol. Okay lets get into this.

I want to talk about a couple things that have been on my heart for a while now.  A lot of these things are on the hearts of almost everyone in the United States. I am a Republican, I think. haha. Parts of me think I just don’t even want to be political at all, because I’m a Christian and honestly that should entail all the good parts of each of the “political parties.” There’s a number of things all parties kind of destroy about Christianity.

I am against abortion, I will just get that one out of the way. I was adopted along with my biological brother into a Christian family. I am grateful I was born, I am grateful I was adopted. God knows where I’d be if I stayed in the rumored drug addict and homeless family. I believe that Humans are humans from womb to tomb. If you don’t believe that, that’s your belief. This is mine. I have felt this way almost all my life. If I was aborted I wouldn’t be here. Plain and simple to me. Not just because I’m a Christian but because I’m alive, I was adopted, so I could’ve been aborted. You don’t have to believe that. I actually respect you that you want to stand up for Womens’ rights. However, I believe that it’s killing a baby so, I personally would not do it. Yes, even if I was raped and some how conceived. I will point out that I have gone with a friend to get an abortion for support. I will leave that at that. God loves you.

Now lets talk about the LGBTQ community and also the Drag Queen stuff. Okay, let me first say that I myself have struggled with being Bisexual for years now. I don’t really want to be with a girl though so that kind of stops that whole thing. I’m just physically attracted to women. I haven’t done a “pray the gay away” thing but within my heart I want to be with a Christian man and have kids and all that. Part of my “confusion” is because I haven’t found that man and it hurts. Alot. I still believe that God has someone for me and I keep praying and following for that. I say all that to say, these people are people and God loves them just the same. He loves, He forgives, He accepts. He just doesn’t want us to “celebrate” it so to speak. We need to love them. Hug them. Help them. Treat them with kindness and treat them as yes, equals. I don’t like either side pushing it in each other faces. It happens and It just infuriates the other side so it doesn’t really help change how people treat each other. So just be kind and loving. Now the Drag Queens are “perverts” stuff. There may be a select few that are in it for the wrong reasons, sure. However I’ve never seen any of them be “perverted’ in a sexual way towards little girls or boys. I do not agree that they should be doing story times in public libraries though. That needs to be done in a place that is neutral and is rented out for that event. Something along those lines. This is a very on the fence situation for me. Kids really shouldn’t be showed those things until they’re old enough to understand it. I do have to mention that the Queens I saw doing the readings were a bit scary in how they’re dressed and I’ve seen others who are absolutely beautiful and kind people. On the other hand it could be explained as dress up too. They are entertainers and actors/actresses after all. They are also people and deserve some sort of respect and deserve the same opportunities as any other actor/actress. Also, you’re not forced to take your children to these events so it’s almost a waste of breath to fight against it if you’re not changing parents minds about it first. I’m almost at the point where it’s like ignore it. It’s not your business so stay out of it. They have stories, they have pasts, they have reasons they may be following this line of life. God Loves them.

Side note, If your teenager comes to you and they’re coming out to you. Don’t kick them out of the house. Talk to them. Love them. IF they’re confused talk through  it with them make sure that’s who and where they really want to be. Be a parent.

Christians have other things we need to fight for. Like our own Walks with Christ. Me included.

The border crisis. Listen, The Bible says, “ ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ I agree the parents and adults broke the law. They should be punished as such. I also want to point out that they are people. Kids are kids and they should not be in the position a “stupid” adult put them in. Maybe they are running from bad circumstances, I don’t know. You don’t really know either but they shouldn’t be living how they are living and for Christians to think it’s okay because “they broke the law” is silly to me. Prisoners come to mind also. They shouldn’t be treated like animals even if they deserve to be where they are, meaning jail or prison. It should still be a livable, safe place, with edible food. We’re supposed to be better than other countries. We are supposed to rise above the other standards. We need to treat people like people. Those facilities should be equipped correctly. Especially now that people are staying there longer than originally planned. The system IS broken and it may be hard to fix but there is things people can do to make it more livable. Beds, warm clothes, blankets, donated foods, donate help for watching the kids and diapers. Things like that. The whole process needs to be sped up. If people need to be brought back to their own countries, do it. If people are seeking asylum, get them their papers and move the process along. I’m not sure about all the legal jargon but it just should be sorted out so that they don’t even have to be staying in those conditions. God loves them.

Our God is merciful so why are we so unmerciful?

It comes down to, these people are people and God loves them and He would not treat them the way we do. Or the way we think is okay.

Do I believe that people should just come into our country the wrong/illegal way. No. But I also believe that they can be redirected and helped and put on the legal path of doing things. If I went into almost any other country illegally I would get a worse fate. We do need more border control. Do we need a wall? I don’t know about that one. I’m on the line of kind of not agreeing with that as the solution. There is problems there that both sides like to ignore. There is a border drug problem, there are kids being taken over the border for sex trafficking and human trafficking. That is true. All that money being raised for the border wall should be put into helping these people with their legal issues and/or providing better conditions to live in.

I don’t have all the answers but I urge people to start loving one another. Especially Christians. I’ve seen some of these posts about standing against things and all that but I also get a little offended at how some of it is put. You do look like you’re hating people that you do not understand.

We shouldn’t be following a crowd just because we’re in that crowd. Meaning we don’t have to agree with everything of our political party just because we “think” the majority believes it. We are Christians first. Not Republicans or Democrats first.

God loves all people. He loves people who have abortions, people who don’t. He loves people who are prisoners because they commited a crime, or who haven’t committed a crime. He loves people in the LGBTQ community and he loves those who aren’t in it.

People have to stop taking everything so personal. And like it’s hate filled too. I had a friend once who was gay. He was very manipulative and he wrecked my car and did a couple other things after we took him in and gave him a home and tried to help him get a job and all that. He did some things and after a while we had to tell him to find a new place. He started yelling at how we weren’t Christians if we did this and how we hated him cause he was gay. That really honestly was not the case. He did a lot of things that were disrespectful and not right and my best friends and I got fed up about it all. He was 19 and immature and was pretty much a freeloader and they have 2 kids and it was all taking a toll on the household how he was behaving. He had been warned, redirected, offered advice, and talked to multiple times. We did not hate him. We didn’t kick him out because he was gay. We kicked him out because of his actions and how he was towards the household and the kids. So sometimes you do have to know a whole situation and doing just go to well you hate me cause I’m...

You can forgive but that doesn’t always mean you let the toxic person stay in your life or let them come back in your life. 

Rise above. Rise Up. Forgive. Move on.

I hope this all made sense the way I wanted it to make sense. I hope it came across the way I wanted it too also.