Aye seventeen get it! (dancing to the song: French Montana - Moses ft. Chris Brown and Migos 🎧).

“Miracles happen. But they need prayer! A courageous prayer, that struggles for that miracle. 

Not like those prayers of courtesy: Ah, I will pray for you! Followed by one Our Father, a Hail Mary and then I forget. No! It takes a brave prayer like that of Abraham who was struggling with the Lord to save the city, like that of Moses who prayed, his hands held high when he grew weary…”

- Pope Francis

I really covered the full gamut of kin posts today, starting with “everything has meaning and we are all in a beautiful web of incredible cosmic coincidences” and ending with comparing Andrew Hussie to Moses. 

A productive Tuesday evening.

guys, remember a while back I said I think they might be doing a 10 plagues of Egypt kinda thing…BEHOLD : this picture!

biblical plague #1 was turning all the drinkable water into blood.

Now of course it’s the 100 so it will be radiation that make all the water “undrinkable” like ALIE predicts in 3.16

Also this could just be the writers being silly.
But if you look at the picture you can see clean/blue water. Then there’s a literal “dam” of beaver tails. Then the water turns red. In the bible when the Nile was turned to blood it killed all the fish, & started killing the animal life that drank it etc.

I really think they may be following the book of Genesis as well as Exodus. Mixing the ark with the plagues of Egypt & Moses. Only time will tell!
Tagging the usuals + some people I thought would find this interesting. Anyone have anything to add?

@forgivenessishardforus @insufficient-earth-skills @easnadh1 @junebugninja @falafel14 @jontyaxefive @velvet-tread @the100ismyshadeofgold @foghthatsme

by Dave Whitehead, Senior Pastor,

Moses made a case before God that he was the wrong candidate for the job of delivering the Jews from Egyptian oppression—and then God asked Moses what he had in his hand. We often think that we don’t have the resources that we need to bring about meaningful change in our communities, but God used a stick of wood to bring about the emancipation of the Jewish slaves. God is not limited to our resources. So…what is in your hand?

How to Make Love to A Trans Person

Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this.

Poem by Gabe Moses, courtesy of Genderqueer Chicago.