Trump Confounds the Left and They Just Don’t Get It [Video]

Truth, in this case, helps. Some honest observations, reblogged.

TILJournal

Trump vs. Antifa Leftist protest against reality

In the first half of President Trump’s first term, political and cultural turmoil has seemed the norm. The consensus of opinion is that America is a ‘divided country.’ One can read that phrase in every news outlet from Left to Right these days.

However, far fewer would agree about the reason for the hostilities. The conservative would say the Left’s juvenile and violent behavior is the reason.

The Left would blame, surprise, (sarc) President Trump. In a manner, both of them are correct.

Blame could be assigned to the president because he has chosen to resist the mantra of the Left. He doesn’t fall into line as Republican Presidents have before.

In that manner, Trump is guilty of confounding the Left and motivating them to stir division and hatred, all the while blaming him for their actions.

Trump Confounds the Left

Inset.image.1.11.9.2018President Donald John Trump truly…

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it’s cold

I think I have never been so happy to see the end of a summer.

I love summer. Lazy, humid afternoons, cicadas singing, birds preening, flowers virtually drooping with the heat. But storms. Rains. This was not a typical summer. The entire month of July had one day with no rainfall here. We received our entire annual total in that one month.

Tonight will be kissed with frost in places. Grass will sparkle with it in the dawn sunrise. Sea oats will be fringed with shiny tassels of ice crystals.

Meanwhile nobody can give a chain of custody of tens of thousands of election ballots in Florida. Final results for several states’ elections won’t be known for days.

Southern California is in process of being incinerated.

Hate groups are singling out specific individuals and are terrorizing them in their homes.

Crazy people get their hands on guns and everyone decides the only answer is to take guns from everyone, even those who respect them and do not use them for insanity.

My son has assumed a persona of someone I do not recognize. I suppose to make his girlfriend happy, I can’t imagine any other reason, not that this is a good reason. I have never felt I could not relate to him.

So my world, or what I see, hear and read about, appears to have turned into a hostile, foreign place, unrecognizable.

Maybe it is appropriate that this Veteran’s Day marks 100 years since the armistice that ended the Great War. My mother’s father was a Captain in the Army. He fought in that war. I have the strategic map he used in France, pencil markings for his company’s maneuvers in the Argonne. I have the German helmet he mailed home to his father with the address hand-written on medical tape stuck to it. I have the bayonet he would have affixed to his rifle.

I have memories of his singing the refrain lyrics to “Mademoiselle from Armentieres, Parlez-vous?” Only the refrain. Not that I would have understood any of the rest of it but my grandmother always stopped him.

We would watch twin-boom military aircraft that we’d see occasionally and called them Scotch airplanes. I have no idea why.

I loved my grandfather. I often wonder what he’d think and say if he were here now. Or my Dad. He was a straight thinker. No one ever wondered where he stood. On anything. Without these men in my life sometimes things seem confusing, distorted, horrible.

But God.

Because of God I have hope. I can cling to One who is true, real, and reliable to be who He is, to keep His promises, to be just, and to love.

Thank God.

And I thank Him for the cold.

proxy.duckduckgo.jpgfree stock photo — public domain

 

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven:”  –Ecclestiastes 3:1

not the pumpkin

I can remember when I last participated in Hallowe’en. Fall 2008. I was living in northwest New Mexico. I had just adopted a new rescue dog, husky-mix Lily. She was the ideal dog! She knew all her commands– sit, stay, shake, lie down, treat, ride, walk and she could give you “five”.

Until Halloween night. I bought a huge amount of treats. I was so ready for this. Then the doorbell rang. Lily was apoplectic. She raced to the door, clawing at the door frame snarling, saliva flying– she was her own night of terror.  I had to find a way to hold her back, open the door and stick the bowl of candy out the door. Fistfuls were taken I am sure but I was so relieved to shut that door. Half a minute later the entire scene threatened to repeat but, though I heard Lily she was not at the door. I opened the door, gasped at the little monsters waiting their cavity-inducers and closed the door to see Lily standing on the baby grand piano barking in a complete frenzy.

Ok so this won’t work. I took the bowl, poured the other bags of candy and set it at the end of the walkway, turned out the lights and went to bed.

Lily was at peace.

So this year my son called me walking on his way home from work to let me know he would be nearby this weekend for a meeting and would like to come see me. I was so happy! But he sounded a little hesitant. The only reason I can think is because his live-in girlfriend and I have never actually found a common ground. Except my son, which she seems to lord over me. Why I have no idea because clearly, the relationship each of us has is vastly different. But the tension is there all the same. She is ‘New Age-y’, I am conventionally traditional. My son is stuck in the middle.

So we chatted about the weekend and he explained he was juggling a bag of groceries, the phone and a large pumpkin for Halloween.

That stopped me. The image I had was not the literal items he mentioned but the other things in his life– his girlfriend, his work, and me. So I said, “I don’t want to be the pumpkin.”

“What?!” he said.

I explained what he was doing right at that moment was kind of exemplary of other things he was also juggling in his life and I did not simply want to be something superfluous in his life that he would eventually throw away.

Sometimes my worry fantasies are a bit far-fetched. I guess this one was.

A little history: My parents were traditional in that they belonged to the country club, took the family to church (most) Sundays, every major holiday, saw to it we had a good education. Beyond that their lives were consumed with (Dad’s) executive jet-setting, Mom’s golf, book club, junior league, garden club, DAR, bridge club and travel with Dad. I do not take after them much at all. They were unconventional in that we the children fell in there somewhere but inconsistently. We weren’t the pumpkin but we were sometimes rather incidental unless and until we had trouble. My brother? Never. Me? often.

Anyway, sadly my son has nothing whatever to do with the life I knew growing up. He is innocent. Yet I carry this baggage around and sometimes say or think things totally irrelevant to a situation. Because of that history.

Insecurity factors in I suppose, but still.

I do not ever want to be the pumpkin

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Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.”   
 –Psalm 139:16

it has to stop

Just an ordinary week in October. Yet it was not.

I could not keep a grip on things in daily normal functions. My toothbrush. The dogs’ medicine bottle. Spilled dog food. Picking up dog toys to clean the floors I stood too fast and slammed the back of my head under the counter. The washing machine died. I probably paid too much for a new one. How would I know? I never bought a new one before.

Thousands of migrants leaving their homes because their countries are destroyed and instead of fixing it they are coming here.

The pipe bombs.

So today, 10 days before the elections I refuse to  watch television. Any programming at all. I refuse to look at twitter. Back in April I deleted my facebook account. I just got tired and depressed from all the anger.

I needed silence.

I busied myself with stuff I figure I can’t hurt myself doing. It’s beginning to get colder so I am gradually moving plants inside the house from outside and on the porch. Spraying for bugs, finding spots of sunshine for them inside.

I scrubbed the bathrooms.

And cooking. Sometimes I bake bread, sometimes I make comfort food. Today it was the latter. Roasted vegetables, chili, spaghetti based on my mom’s recipe. She could cook anything better than anyone or any restaurant. Not gourmet, just good, hearty food.

I won’t have to cook again for weeks.

Rescue dogs Lily and Lulu watched me through all this activity, hoping I would notice it also had stopped raining and a walk in the park would be kind of fun. So off we went.

As she often does Lulu found a spot on a bench and jumped up to rest and watch the world. My phone dinged so I checked it. Nothing important but I tapped on a news icon.

Another shooting. A synagogue. People celebrating joyous life events, when out of nowhere a nightmare explodes in their lives. I wanted to scream at that very moment, but instead I prayed.

I prayed for the dead and their families. For the wounded. For the crazy insane man that shot them. And then I realized.

It’s not Trump’s fault. It’s not Maxine Waters’ fault. It’s not Christine Blasey Ford, Justice Kavanaugh, Bernie Sanders, Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton’s fault.

It is us.

No matter what another person may tell us to do or not to do, no matter how much we may dislike someone or something, no matter how unfair life seems. We each one of us is responsible for ourselves. What we say, do, the choices we make.

Not Maxine Waters.

Not Donald Trump.

Not anyone or anything else.

Us.

God help us.

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11 For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.”  –Jeremiah 29:11

 

 

 

collateral damage

This is a term that’s being flung about a lot lately, by all sorts of people, for any number of reasons. I am beginning to wonder whether they even understand the gravity of it.

Be that as it may, I think it applies here. Yes the storms are over now. Yes, electricity has mostly been restored, people are mostly back in their homes, clean up is well under way.

But some are not.

There are many people who were in apartment buildings. This is not so strange, except for those whose complexes suffered serious damage and are uninhabitable. And the people cannot return to them. And FEMA will take several weeks to sort this out and compensate them.

What then?

And there is the river.

IMG_0696.JPG  Mouth of the Cape Fear river, Snow’s Cut bridge at the Atlantic Ocean

North Carolina has long been known for tobacco, but another cash industry here is Smithfield, and most of the hog farm pork producers are here. These farms I learn have a way of dealing with hog waste using lagoons. When the river flooded the lagoons were breached.

Our electric company uses coal as a source for generating power. I learned the waste byproduct is deposited in coal-ash ponds. When the Cape Fear river flooded these ponds were breached.

So much more happens than the power of nature in a storm. The contaminants created by humans are our own undoing. The storm came because that’s what storms do. The river flooded because the storm’s rains and tidal surge overwhelmed it. Everything else? Well, that’s because we didn’t plan well enough to protect the river and environment from our own mess. We thought we had things contained, but we did not.

I remember a comic strip years ago, “Pogo” by Walt Kelly. A famous line from it was “We have met the enemy, and he is us.” Mr. Kelly expounded on this more extensively–

“Traces of nobility, gentleness and courage persist in all people, do what we will to stamp out the trend. So, too, do those characteristics which are ugly. It is just unfortunate that in the clumsy hands of a cartoonist all traits become ridiculous, leading to a certain amount of self-conscious expostulation and the desire to join battle. There is no need to sally forth, for it remains true that those things which make us human are, curiously enough, always close at hand. Resolve then, that on this very ground, with small flags waving and tinny blasts on tiny trumpets, we shall meet the enemy, and not only may he be ours, he may be us. Forward!” — Walt Kelly, June 1953 **

While we may in fact be our own enemy I like to give benefit of the doubt in thinking most of our self-damage is among our best-laid plans. We thought we had it safe and secure. We found we were mistaken, at a great expense. So we go back to the “drawing board.”

IMG_0703.JPG While I do not know this couple for me their slow, meandering stroll is a redemption.

 

A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.” –Proverbs 16:9

 

 

**https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pogo_(comic_strip)#%22We_have_met_the_enemy_and_he_is_us.%22

 

 

 

 

 

 

resilience

It’s strange. It’s like the trauma of the storm has regenerated spring. I first noticed some petunia seeds I sprinkled on a hanging basket from last March which were profusely blooming all summer long. I brought them in during the storm because they are fragile and they promptly dropped all their blooms and disappeared.  Nothing but black potting soil. Ever the optimist I rehung the basket and watered it a couple of weeks ago just after the storm. Now this

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Then, watering in the front yard several days later I looked up to see the Bradford pear (which isn’t actually fruit bearing at all but an ornamental tree). Most of these trees broke apart in the storm or were irreparably damaged in some way because they are disease- and insect infestation-prone, but mine survived.  This

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in full bloom with new leaves sprouting. One of my favorite small nurseries and plant supply stores explained it this way: the trauma these plants endured made them regenerate with something of a vengeance and those that bloom are doing so for survival, to set seed. My river birch (the tree my elderly neighbor has a personal vendetta against) also is putting out new leaves

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So I have no idea what this means for the fall season. We don’t really get much fall color here because we’re sub-tropic and it doesn’t get that fall cold edge really. But I’ve not seen this before.

Then we have the “normal” fall flowers, goldenrod

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But resilience. We bounce back. We may have a set back but we get our bearings, dig into our resources, get creative, work hard and regain whatever ground may have been lost.

Nature’s way, human nature’s way, too.

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“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”  –Joshua 1:9

“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self control.”   –2 Timothy 1:7

 

maintenance

Except for the mountains of limbs, sawed pines and hardwood trees, leaves, other debris the part of town I live in is more or less back to normal. County employees went back to work this week, libraries opened, schools will resume October 1, most parks have reopened, power is restored, roads are cleared, stores are open.

So having had basic repairs– roof, fencing –made I looked to normal fall maintenance chores around the house.

There are no leaves on the trees. They all blew off in the storm. I have already raked up what was on the ground, three 40-gallon trash bags. There is a section of rain gutter that got dinged when my neighbor’s tree fell on my garage so I got out the ladder to fix it.

Not a hard fix, but while up there I saw where all the rest of the leaves went and got down off the ladder to get a pair of gloves to clean out the gutters.

IMG_0656.JPG           very few leaves on the trees

This is normally not a difficult job but these houses in this neighborhood are very close together, maybe 15 feet apart, so getting a ladder angled to rest where I can climb up and reach the leaves is not possible in some places.

I am over 60 years old. Getting creative to clean out gutters is no longer the adventure  challenge it once was. One side of the house is far from the house on that side so it was no problem. The other side afforded no possible way to set the ladder against the house except almost vertically. I eyed the root-hardened ground where I’d likely fall and decided against it. The neighbor’s 8-foot privacy fence however had a four-inch wide cap along it which I was able to climb on and reach the leaves. Not optimal conditions but it worked.

And those gutters were full. There was a small tree growing in one spot.

I don’t mind doing small home maintenance jobs: replacing refrigerator gaskets, changing air conditioner filters, repairing doorknobs, installing ceiling fans. Saving money has always been something of a game to me, to see how much I can do at the least expense, but climbing around on ladders 12-15 feet off the ground may be beyond me at this point.

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Rescue dogs Lily and Lulu stretched out on the fresh, green grass in the sun while I climbed up and down. They always stay close by when I get involved in a strange project. I think they know I must need to be watched. Should something happen I have no idea what they’d do about it, but they would at least be there to see it happen.

 

Fortunately this afternoon, nothing happened.

IMG_0657.JPG  a very pretty flower bloomed

“Consider how the wildflowers grow: They don’t labor or spin thread…”  –Luke 12:27