Trump: God’s Man for the Hour

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Did you see the breaking news story yesterday about the baby Ivanka reportedly aborted when she was 16? Unconfirmed sources say that Donald Trump was the father of that child and that he was the one who paid for the abortion.

Head over here and read it yourself.

Not that Lies in the Age of Propaganda really matter to Trump or his disciples.

Especially not now that Trump has made it official: We can put the Christ back in Christmas again. Can there be any better proof than this that Trump is God’s man for the hour?

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Raining Silver Dollars

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Some years ago now, Tim and I joined friends for dinner at their home. The couple with whom we were dining had three young daughters. Sometime during the evening, the youngest of the girls became quite distraught over some wrong her sister had inflicted upon her. She came wailing to her father.

A tall man, the fella bent down on his knees before his daughter and said: “Could you speak to me without emotion, please?”

I didn’t burst out laughing at that exact moment, but over the years I have enjoyed more than one fit of giggles over that scene.

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A Season for Giving: Jewelry!! Books!!

Christmas. Ashley

Wearing one of the Christmas dresses Mama made.

My mother loved Christmas. She always made a fuss over it. The last outing she took in her life was to a Christmas service with my nephew and his wife. She rose up Christmas morning and told my brother that she was dying. A nurse, Mama knew all the signs, even when it was her own dying.

She died the next day.

But before that awful season of her dying, Mama always did Christmas up big. She’d be the first to get her tree up. It was fake. When we were growing up in that trailer house, the tree was a four foot aluminum foil tree. I think of it fondly now, in the nostalgia that comes when there’s been a far distance between actually living in the trailer. I’m thankful for the experiences. I never want to repeat them.

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Fifty Ways to Sunday

I have this moment right before I awake each day, a moment when I have not yet opened my eyes but am no longer asleep. It used to be that was the moment when I would say, “Thank you, God, for a new day.A new opportunity. New mercies.”

Now that moment is spent thinking, “Oh My God, Donald Trump is president. When will I awake from this nightmare?”

For me and for millions of others, having his face, his voice, his banal and shallow thinking, his vulgarness, his callous disrespect for others, his abusiveness, is an absolute nightmare.

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A Thanksgiving Day Prayer

img_4803 Dear God: I am thankful for Senators Ron Wyden and Jeff Merkley, and Rep. John Lewis, who made me cry when he told the story of growing up in a segregated South. I remember. Thank you for these men and women,like Senators Warren, Boxer, Duckworth, and our very own Rep Sara Acres Gelser, and so many other women and men who work tirelessly fighting to do good by all people. They inspire us to be our better selves.   And we need that inspiration, lest we confuse being prosperous with being a people of good character, lest we mistake overbearing patriarchy for the promise of protection, lest we are misled by propaganda instead of being informed by the free press, and lest we mistake the self-serving for those who truly serve.

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