Something good is happening at this World Cup.
The Scots turned up. The English turned up. The Norwegians turned up. They sang their songs, got stuck in, and the Americans loved them for it. Glasgow and Boston are getting twinned off the back of it.
For 30 years we’ve been told to view the US as some sort of Great Satan — all imperialism and orange-man clichés. Not everyone buys it of course, but enough do.
And then Europeans actually go, and find a place that feels familiar. Makes sense to them. A bit richer, a bit further ahead, but recognisably ours. Settled by Europeans, still deeply European in its bones.
There’s a gathering-of-the-clans feeling to it. Old neighbours discovering they still like the same songs, the same drink, the same daft humour, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company.
None of it’s a surprise, really. It’s just been buried under so much politics that we forgot we were allowed to enjoy it.
Good to be reminded.
@Fair_and_Biased@JoelWBerry I have gained so much perspective from my aunt. When she was a kid lunch was often a peanut butter sandwich, that's it, not even jelly. Dinner was a bowl of beans. That lunch described in the post would have been a special occasion.
@BiblicalBeauty The comments are bringing back memories of so many books I loved growing up. Some recommendations I haven’t seen: The Mediator series and 1-800-where are you by Meg Cabot. 7th tower by Garth Nix. Tomorrow When the War Began by John Marsden in a couple years.
@wokekenzie ANGC once dropped all commercials from their coverage in order to allow their sponsors avoid pressure caused by ANGC traditions. Even today they significantly limit the amount of adds allowed, lowering their revenue. ANGC and their traditions don't bend to anyone.
The quiet moments are often the most important. Last night just before Cabinet members walked onto the House floor for the President’s State of the Union, we joined together in prayer, giving all thanks and praise to God, and praying for the clarity and strength to listen to Him, serve Him, and do His will.
Uncomfortable truth nobody admits - most parents are relieved when school resumes. And this is not exhaustion, it is conditioning. Public education and modern work have trained families to function apart, not together.
When prolonged time at home finally arrives, the discomfort is immediate. We have outsourced formation, structure, and even companionship to institutions, and the family is left without the habits required to sustain itself. What feels like a personal failure is actually systemic. This isn’t a dig at any parents out there. It is a critique of modernism.
For nine months, my wife, Brooklyn, carried our baby boy. And for nine months, we lived in a place between hope and heartbreak.
Early in the pregnancy, we learned something was terribly wrong. Around the three- to four-month mark, doctors told us our son had severe hydrocephalus — fluid building so rapidly in his brain that it pushed everything aside. They used to call it “water on the brain,” but the simplicity of the name didn’t soften the reality.
We were eventually referred to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, where some of the best fetal specialists in the country met with us. And they gave us the kind of news no parent is ever prepared to hear.
His condition was so severe, so extreme, that they stopped measuring. There was no point, they said. The MRI images were devastating. We were told there was a greater than 90% chance our son would either:
• Die shortly after birth, or
• Survive with such profound cognitive impairment that life — real life — would not be possible.
We sat through meetings no parent should ever sit through. Conversations about breathing tubes. About how long to try. About the moment we might have to make the decision to let him go.
Brooklyn moved to Cincinnati to be close to the hospital. I drove back and forth — working, caring for our daughters Sophie and Lily, and trying to keep our home standing while our world felt like it was falling apart.
Then came July 8th.
Just 15 minutes before Brooklyn’s C-section, we sat with doctors again and discussed when — not if — we might have to remove life support and let our son go to heaven.
I don’t have words for that kind of pain.
And then — Charlie Edward Schnarr entered this world crying.
A strong, loud, defiant cry.
The most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
He stayed in the NICU until yesterday… and now we are home. Together. Holding him. Loving him. Watching him breathe. Watching him live.
He has mild ventricular enlargement we will keep an eye on — but otherwise?
He is thriving. Eating. Wiggling. Yawning. Gripping our fingers. Looking around at a world that was never supposed to be his.
The doctors have no explanation. They said his brain somehow cleared the blockage on its own — something none of them have seen in a case this severe. The word that kept echoing through the NICU from seasoned nurses and top specialists was the same:
“Miracle.”
“Divine intervention.”
They said it. Not us.
We know thousands of people — family, friends, coworkers, strangers — were praying for our son. I believe with everything in me that God heard those prayers. That He placed His hand on Charlie. That He said, not this one.
I will spend the rest of my life thanking Him.
To every person who prayed for us — every text, every message, every whispered intention — thank you. You carried us when we were too exhausted to carry ourselves.
Prayer is real.
God is real.
And miracles… they still happen.
With a full and grateful heart,
—Nick
@WayfaringBroad I listen to all the daily wire shows on Apple Podcasts. There are some things they don’t have but most episodes are there. I imagine Pints will be the same.
From Fr. Mike’s homily today:
“Comfort has become the god of our generation.
If comfort is our god, then we end up missing God. We end up missing God’s will in our lives.
And the goal of our lives is God’s will. The obstacle is that we’re living in captivity to comfort. We’re unwilling to be uncomfortable.
We need to be willing to pursue God’s will and have absolutely no fear of discomfort.
If we’re bound by a love of comfort, we’ll never be able to love anything else.”
Our teams at Turning Point just pulled off the largest memorial in known history in a matter of a few days.
It was the most attended, most attempted, most viewed.
We had no issues.
Glory be to God.
We love you CK.
Two weeks ago he was in Korea supporting the persecuted church.
Last week he was proselytizing college kids in God, family, and country.
This week he’s in heaven. And millions across the globe are hearing the Gospel because of his life and death.
What a testimony.
I gave it everything….
Congratulations @McIlroyRory on winning the @TheMasters and completing the Grand Slam.. very cool sharing the green with you in that moment…
Thank you Team🌹 as always for all the support during the week… We go again 👊🏻
Part of me wonders how much of our acute criticism of Walt Disney World is rooted in pricing, nickel and diming and the removal of small touches.
The day the Magic Bands arrived at the house, the bag tags, booking your rides and dining the magic of having your bags show up at your room, not having to pay for FastPass, etc. Those small touches matter.