Them - "You should have just driven with your toddler for 10 hours a day, 4 days straight, booking a hotel room each night, including in the middle of nowhere Montana where they may not have rooms available because they are completely booked by oil workers instead of flying for 4 hours because modern adults are incapable of controlling their emotions around children."
Reminding my nervous system that my baby is okay she’s just screaming at the top of her lungs because I set her down to sweep the floor and my 3 year old is just talking non-stop because she’s just a girl and that’s what they do and I am not in fact literally fighting for my life - I’m just a stay at home mom on a Tuesday.
Every single person who harmed a child on Epstein’s island should be in prison.
A society that fails to protect its children has lost its moral compass.
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From Fr Mike’s homily today -
Young woman in college with an unplanned pregnancy: “What if I’m not ready to be a mom yet?”
Fr. Mike: “You already are a mom”
Marriage with babies and toddlers is less butterflies and fun dates and more “thank you for still loving me even when I’m overstimulated and acting like an insane person.”
Surrogacy treats women’s bodies as commodities and children as products.
No woman should be reduced to a womb for rent.
Human dignity must come before adult desires.
@OfficialADSOrg 38% of teens aren’t pre-diabetic because kids are eating too much whole food.
It’s because medical elites have not taken a stand against added sugar, refined carbs, and processed food - and instead pushes drugs once kids are already sick.
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
My dear American friends,
We British Christians would get excited when, once a year, Queen Elizabeth would make a mild but sincere reference to the love of Jesus Christ in her Christmas address.
In Charlie Kirks' Memorial service, watched by tens of millions, I just heard:
- Multiple clear presentations of the gospel from men like @robmccoyus and @DrFrankTurek with clear calls to repentance and faith
- Worship songs full of Scripture sung by tens of thousands live and millions at home
- Personal testimonies of lives transformed by the work of Christ and the witness of believers
- Demonstration and explanation of the value of marriage, child-rearing and family
- Calls to Romans 13 for the government to bear the sword for the protection of good and punishment of the wicked
- Declarations of spiritual warfare on the forces of evil and promises to endure no matter the cost
- Calls to be prophets and call the nation to repent
- More Scripture references and Bible readings than I can count
- And a widow publicly forgiving her husband's killer because Christ forgave his killers on the cross.
All of it done before, and by, the most powerful people in your nation and the world.
You guys should be on your knees thanking God for your country. It is a light to the world.
Never stop fighting for it.
Good morning.
The reason you feel Charlie’s death so deeply is because grief doesn’t measure itself by proximity. It measures itself by meaning. You didn’t have to know him personally to feel the sting of his absence, because when a voice like his goes silent, something in the atmosphere shifts.
The reason it feels heavier than so many other tragedies is because your spirit recognizes that this is not just about a man, it is about a battle. Scripture says eternity is written on our hearts, and when someone who carried truth with boldness is suddenly gone, eternity aches within us. It’s like our souls know instinctively that the darkness celebrated, and that strikes us at the core.
The reason you can’t shake it is because psychologically, we don’t only attach ourselves to people…we attach ourselves to symbols. Charlie became a symbol of conviction in a time of compromise, courage in a time of fear. And when a symbol is struck down, it rattles something primal and eternal inside us.
That’s why even those who never met him feel it. There is a strange thread pulling at us, and it is not imagined. It is real. We are bound together by shared purpose, by shared longing for truth, by the Spirit of God Himself weaving us into a fabric that cannot be torn apart. This loss pulled at that fabric, and every one of us felt the tug.
So if you’ve wondered why this hits so hard, it’s because your soul knows. This is bigger than news. This is bigger than politics. This is about eternity, about truth, and about the weight of a man whose life carried both.
Love y’all.
. @xMikeMac asked a very important question. Why does the loss of Charlie Kirk hit so much harder then all the tragedies we have endured these past years?
I think the grief feels so heavy because Charlie Kirk’s death is not like the others we have mourned. It cuts deeper, it pierces sharper, and it leaves a wound that feels impossible to close.
He died moments after sharing Scripture about the very meaning of life in Christ. His last words were not about himself but about the cross and the resurrection. It feels almost prophetic, as if God allowed his final testimony to be spoken before calling him home.
Charlie was young, with decades ahead of him. He was a husband, a father, a leader, and a voice for millions. His life was still unfolding, his mission still building. When someone like that is taken, it is as if an entire book is torn from our hands halfway through, leaving only blank pages where there should have been more life, more love, more legacy.
Even if you did not agree with him on everything, you could not deny the conviction in his voice. He spoke with courage, with clarity, and with a boldness that challenged people to think and to stand firm. He made people feel seen, and he gave them permission to live out their faith without apology. Losing him feels personal because he gave himself so completely to his mission and to the people he served.
And then there is the reminder of life’s fragility. One moment he was proclaiming Christ, the next moment he was gone. That contrast shakes us to the core. It strips away our illusions of control and forces us to confront the truth: life is fragile, tomorrow is not promised, and eternity is nearer than we think.
This is why I think it hits harder. Charlie’s death is not only the loss of a man. It is the loss of a believer who carried the Gospel with fire, a husband whose love for his wife was radiant, a young father whose children should have had decades more with him, and a leader whose light reached millions. The world feels darker without him, and that darkness is what makes this grief so crushing.
@HippieReligious Because I believe the Bible is inerrant, and when Jesus said, “This IS my body, which has been given for you,” I realized I needed His real presence in the Eucharist.
The Catholic faith is ALIVE. 🔥
On the eve of the anniversary of Our Lady of Fatima’s apparition, 270,000 Catholics gathered at the Fatima shrine in Portugal, lifting their voices in Ave Maria. 🙏