This is my feeble (if long-winded) attempt at bridge building and understanding. I started this piece weeks ago. I shelved it after the Charlie Kirk assassination. I picked it back up after President Nelson passed and then had a night where I could stop writing here and elsewhere following the shooting and arson of the chapel in Grand Blanc. I'd be lying if this was easy to commit to paper. But I have to. Rarely have I felt this level of compulsion to write. To share what I have to say. Let me try. Here's a start. My faith is not what it once was. Surety has been replaced by hope. Which probably isn't a bad thing. The focus is more on fundamentals of belief and the actions they bring. I have absolutely struggled with the theology, doctrines, practices, policies, and culture surrounding the faith of my youth. I'm open and honest about that. But I worry that's not always returned. The honest assessment that we all struggle with the teachings and guidance of such a l...
I own an AR-15. I built it from parts. More assembled it than built it. But that's how you put them together. Especially when you've spent a long time determining how you want to configure your rifle, what the use case(s) would be, and what makes sense to you as the user. It's a facsimile of a dissipator. 16 inch barrel with full length rifle sights. But instead of a full rifle length gas system it has a mid length gas system hanging out under the handguard. Which instead of an A1 or A2 guard is a Magpul MOE. I run it with iron sights, just cause that's fun to do. Now to many people the writing of those paragraphs would paint me as holding very specific policy plans and goals. But there in lies the rub. The complexity and experience of being someone who owns firearms, really likes them, but thinks we can do more as a society to address the issues they cause. I started writing this last year and kept stopping and starting. I couldn't ignore various events and the p...
Dear God, What are we going to do? I fret. I worry. I toss and turn. I can't lose the sleep that I'm not having. It's a forgone conclusion. So I'm just talking. Without thinking. Letting these thoughts race. There are too many suffering. Too many worrying. So much more than me. I have been given much alongside my trials, my tribulations, my sorrows. I can't ever lose sight of that. But tonight. These days. I struggle to go to work without shaking. I struggle to concentrate. And I don't think I'm alone. I may be considered a snowflake for this. A bleeding heart. That's just who I am. I care. I know these prayers are usually private. That's the way I was raised. And in my streams of consciousness that's usually how it goes. But right not my heart is breaking. And words on a page makes the most sense to me. Is cathartic. Necessary for me. What can I do? Other than shouting in the void. Other than the limited work I keep doing day after day. It...
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