My Me Too

When I was a little girl, probably around age 8 or 9, I was playing in my yard. The neighbor boy was outside, putting up a tent. He was my older brother’s friend who was around the age of 18 or 19.  I was a curious little kid. I saw him putting up the tent and even though I was shy, I had talked with him before. His family had lived next to us for years. I have strange flash backs being in their small house, but I can’t really recall why. I remember the older couple that lived upstairs in the mother-in-law apartment that was attached. I spent hours over there, probably chatting their ears off or asking questions that annoyed them. My mom didn’t seem to mind me being gone. She seemed to trust them with her kids, or maybe was blissfully unaware.

So I crossed the sidewalk from our house and stepped into their front yard. Dennis, as this was his name, looked at me and continued putting up the tent. The conversation was small talk really. I asked why he needed a tent and he told me so he could sleep under the stars with a girl, or something like that. I thought that was weird. I really don’t remember the conversation or how it turned into what it did, but I do remember that he wanted to “show me” what he would be doing. And so then he decided to french kiss me. I honestly don’t remember if I ran away or sat there stunned. It wasn’t until years later that I actually remembered the incident, telling my sister and niece when I was a teenager and they laughed about it.

When I was about 18 years old, I saw him again. My brother had died and my family had a gathering at their house a few months later. Dennis showed up. He was now in his late 20’s or so. He kept saying how I had grown up and kept staring at me. I felt uncomfortable and left to go talk to someone else. I never saw him again. I don’t care to.

I see stories on Twitter of girls who have been raped or assaulted. Hollywood is full of these creeps. Churches even have been called out about their cover-ups of abuse. It seems silly to talk about a neighbor boy who “only” kissed me. I don’t feel traumatized by the event, but I have felt uncomfortable around men all my life.

When the #metoo threads came out, I felt drawn to the stories. I kept reading them and was appalled by the pain in the victims voices. I felt sad for all they had lost–their dignity, their respect, jobs, and the like. My story isn’t even close to theirs.

Maybe it’s because I was a child. I didn’t have a job or family to lose. I didn’t need to be threatened because I kept silent about it for 10 years until I told a few people and their reaction caused me to continue in my silence. Even now, I find it hard to write this and not feel it is something that should be told.

Yesterday my daughter told me that a boy in her homeschool co-op was hounding her to send foot video to him. He requested it be 45 seconds long and that she rub her foot on something. He admitted to having a foot fettish. She’s a smart girl and told him no. She eventually blocked him on all her social profiles. My response was swear words and anger. You just don’t expect this in a Christian homeschool co-op, but apparently evil is everywhere. It’s at this point that I find myself wondering if I should rock the boat & say something or walk away and let the dude continue to be a pervert. For my daughter’s part, he’s been blocked from her on all social media, but he still sees my daughter on Monday’s in her writing class. This makes me sad. Should she go an entire 1/2 year dealing with his creepy stares and knowing what she knows?

She doesn’t like conflict and doesn’t want attention drawn to herself either. How do I respect her wishes yet still show her that silence isn’t the answer? It’s taken me a long time to process that too. What actions are worth raising hell over? Which ones aren’t? Is there a line? I just don’t know.

Looking back, I wish I would’ve ran and told someone about what happened to me. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all. I don’t know enough to say I would’ve prevented other situations from the likes of Dennis. I have no idea where he ended up or what he’s done or if he’s even alive. But it wouldn’t have been hard for people to believe me.

In other situations, like my daughter’s, I hesitate to speak up because I know that prize Christian kids will be believed over depressed teenage girls. She could be told she participated so she was wrong (which she didn’t) or she may be shamed or questioned about her part or even about her honesty. And I’m just hesitant to go there.

I wish these things were easy, but it often ends up in “he said” / “she said” and the woman is left defending herself again and again to people who don’t believe her. I am struggling to do the right thing in this scenario–and in so many other scenarios when I’ve had to deal with male bullies and not being believed. It’s like my last church experience all over again. Will I be listened to this time?


The Daily Fight For Joy

On my other blog, I try to share how to find joy. I write about the small moments and fighting for a thankful heart. I believe everything I write. I want to be the woman who embodies a thankful heart and encourages others to pursue love and peace through Christ.

But living that out is not easy. I fight feelings of failure. I try to squash my inner critic that likes to remind me of all the bad stuff. It is a real battle and sometimes I feel exhausted from trying to defeat my bad attitude.

As I write this, my kids are all playing a game together. It’s a rare moment. My middle child woke up depressed and forgot to take her meds which help her deal with her moods. My husband was going out so I forced her to go too. I struggle with not being resentful at her for refusing to do things like sleep & take her meds. But my little push made a difference and now she’s having a rare moment of fun with her siblings. I wish there was more of these moments but most of the time, my time is spent harping on her to take care of herself.

My dog is curled up next to me. The fire place is warm and cozy. Family life is pleasant for the moment. Yet I start thinking of the bad stuff–like wishing everyday was this way or wishing it wasn’t so hard for my kids to do basic things. Why can’t I just enjoy the rare moments and the warm dog cuddles?

I struggle just like everyone to keep moving forward. I struggle with loving my life. I struggle to keep a joyful perspective. I spend way too much time in my own head. But I’m thankful that God is reminding me of the good in life.

Sometimes we think we have to have arrived. But life is often a daily battle of our wills. We fight to think well. We struggle to not let our moods bring us down or affect our loved ones. These things don’t necessarily have an arrival point but are part of this journey called life. If we can remember that, then we won’t feel like hopeless failures. Instead we will have grace for the process and for ourselves.

Is joy a struggle for you?

Want to Be Happy?

I love happy people.

Their contagious smiles.

Their laughs.

The way they seem to love life and embrace it. Every bit of it.

It’s hard to be unhappy around happy people.

Their energy is contagious. Their passion is admirable.

I wish I could be like that.

Happy Does Not Equal Phony

Happy is not sucking it up & pretending to be OK when you aren’t. It’s not flashing a plastic smile when you’re heart is breaking. Those masks need to be thrown in the trash. In a world of highlight reels of perfect families, perfect bodies, and perfect social media posts, I encourage you to embrace the freedom of being you. YOU. Yes, the ugly crying, the salty emotions, and the bad hair days. YOU. The woman (or man) who longs to be happy, who struggles to find her voice, who wonders if her best is good enough.

Don’t take away the message that you have to be anything but who you are. I want to be happy just like you do. Not fake happy. Not pretend, here’s my Facebook photo to prove ithappy.

No, the real deal.

You can just feel it when someone is authentically happy. That’s what I long for. I am thinking you do too.

Continue Reading at Every Day Elle

Forced Religion at Christmas

Last Christmas, I sat around with my in-laws and thought the day would go as usual. We’d eat, open gifts, talk, and the kids would play. Instead, my father in law decided he wanted to make Christmas more meaningful and instituted “Bible Trivia”.  Enter eye rolls from me. This was because my in-laws usually talked too much about sports and he thought that wasn’t holy. Isn’t it a little too late for that? You should’ve thought about their sport addiction when they were kids. I digress.

Apparently, he told the little kids (not my bigger kids–they would snicker at such a thing) that whoever got the most right would get quarters. And being the frugal guy he is, I guess he thought that would work. Apparently, on them it did. But he wanted all of us to play, adults  & salty pre-teens included.

Of course, being the ex-seminary student that he is (like I freaking care), he made the questions. And my thought is that even seminary students would have been asking what the heck he was asking because most of the questions sounded like he was on drugs when he made them. They didn’t make much sense. Needless to say, the kids seemed to understand Grandpa logic better than I did and at one point, I got rather frustrated with the entire thing and asked if I could not play.

On a personal side note, I hate competitive games–always have. Goes against my introverted, non-confrontational nature. And I hate that someone, probably one of my kids, is gonna feel left out or is going to wonder if they are truly a Christian because they don’t know the answers. I honestly didn’t care that I had lost. I was more upset that the questions were STUPID as ever. But when I said I wanted to be excused from the game, my Father In-Law decided I needed to be fixed and stated:

“Well if you read the Bible better, these would be easy.”

I wanted to say a zillion things in retaliation but I just sat there upset. And of course, this is pretty normal BS from my in-laws. Apparently, I’m supposed to sit there and take it. Except I told my husband that I would not be participating again in “Bible Trivia” and he can take his trivia questions and shove it up his…well, you get it.

But let’s dissect this a bit. If you want to make Christmas meaningful and “Christian”, knowing the answer to trivia might make you seem like you are smart, upright, even holy. But all I learned from this meaningful Christmas was that my Father in Law is only Christian in word, not deed. You can’t make Christmas more Christian by fabricating holiness. Either you love Jesus or you don’t. Even the devil can answer bible trivia…see his quoting of scripture while tempting Jesus. I guess by my in-laws standards, Satan is a better Christian than I am. Maybe Satan can take my place at holidays then too.

Isn’t this how it is though? Some people think in terms of black and white. They think if they do A, then B will result. They must be pretty great because they did something “Christian”. Meanwhile, someone struggling or not so sure but is hanging on to Christ anyway looks like they are heathens.

I saw this a lot in church. One big thing they pushed was church attendance. If you came and participated (and spread all your flu germs in the process because no one stayed home), you were considered a really good Christian. In fact, they frowned on missing church. I was never “talked to” directly about our missing church, but I was told on many occasions how important it was to be there. One noticeable difference when we left, besides a giant weight lifting off my back is that our family used a lot less kleenex.

To this day, when I sleep in on Sundays and wake up, I think to myself “Thank God I don’t have to go to church this morning.” A day of rest, truly is a day of rest. But my point is that you might look like a good Christian, but looks are quite deceiving. I’m sure Judas looked the part up until the end. Yet not one of the disciples figured it out. But Jesus knew. And just like Jesus knew Judas, He knows our hearts too.

I might not be good at trivia or going to church or looking the part, but I’m glad that God does not give up on me, or think less of me. Christmas is meaningful to me not because I follow traditions or try to make it more “Christian” but because I see the way in which Christ sees someone broken as me and loves me as much as those who aren’t struggling.

This Christmas, I’m hosting and we won’t be playing Bible Trivia. Santa Bingo might be on the schedule though.



The Love of Writing

It’s been an interesting experiment–blogging. I’ve tried my hand at several blogs over the years. It always is a bit different. And blogging has changed. It used to be a place where everyone willingly entered the conversation after reading. Now most people are somewhat hesitant to leave comments. They fear they’ll be tracked down or they just don’t like being all that open with the internet. Some people only comment if you post it on Facebook.

I get it. I started a blog last year and it was mainly how-to’s and tutorials. I mean, who’s gonna get mad at someone trying to teach hand lettering or showing you how to up your graphic design skills? No one I know. So it was a safe venture in which I learned quite a bit. I’m thinking I need to drop it though. It’s just not me. I love art, hand lettering, and graphic design and will continue to use it in my Etsy shop, but I loathe all the self-promotions, blogging and social media rules, and wondering if I’m doing what the experts have told me to do.

I paid for another year of hosting like an idiot so now I have this art/creativity blog and I don’t want to keep using up all my energy on it. I’d actually like to start something that is more me. I don’t have to blog, but I feel like I need to write. Maybe it’s only for my sanity. Maybe I’m a narcissist who wants attention. I don’t know. I have always been a writer though and it feels foreign not to share ideas.

But sharing how-to’s is just not me. I’m a teacher by nature, but bore easily of niches like what I got going on at my other blog. Sure it’s informational, but is it something I want to talk about long-term? No.

So I was thinking about the blogs I do enjoy. Here are few themes I’ve run into:

  • spiritual abuse blog or blogs highlighting abuse (although I tend to not like negativity overload either and if that’s all the blog does, I get burned out)
  • introversion and HSP tips
  • mental health & relationship advice / tips
  • blogs on how to blog (LOL)
  • blogs on how to help kids with anxiety
  • blogs related to autism

I do also subscribe to the occasional brush lettering blogs, but honestly, they are all the same. Here’s some free crap, now pay for the good stuff. And that’s what my blog was turning into and didn’t promote excited feelings for another year of blogging there.

I like this blog, although it’s honestly a mish-mash of my random feelings about life. I guess I need to figure out what the point is. It’s fine to highlight problems, but it’s better if you have solutions. Or maybe it’s just better to relate to others in a real way. I don’t know. I’m confused by blogging. But I do enjoy the conversation part of blogging. For me, that’s the best part. I love to write, but I love it more when I can learn something from someone else that I hadn’t thought of before, such as the comments I get on this blog (which oddly enough has more comments to date than my other blog does and that blog is older. Go figure).

Having a blog you try to monetize or promote sucks the joy right out of writing. It becomes a job instead of a passion. So I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I thought since I loved to write, I could try to also monetize it, but I’m finding that notion actually makes me hate coming up with content. Over here, I enjoy writing because no one tells me I broke some cardinal blogging sin. So maybe I’m just lazy, I guess.

What are your writing goals?



Turning into a Hermit

My husband, who doesn’t like people, told me I can’t push everyone away. As if that’s a bad thing? I just like my peace and quiet. I enjoy being me–away from the chaos of the universe. And last I checked, he isn’t a social butterfly either. I just happen to have more people that I have chosen to not talk to. He still talks to the dysfunctional misfits in his family. I guess that makes him better than me 😛

I want to branch out sometimes. I just don’t seem to have the drive most days to do so. It’s exhausting being a mom with kids who have some big problems lately.  All I want to do is be in the quiet, not take on someone else’s problems. I have too many of my own in this time of my life.

I’m trying to work on my blog, Etsy shop, and hopefully monetize it someday. I don’t know. Seems like a ridiculous amount of work. I started up a conversation on Twitter with another Christian blogger. She runs a ministry blog and asked if we could exchange helping each other. She seems to know how to drive traffic to her site and has no trouble at all with blog comments. She actually has experience with some bigger name blogs and helped teach a bunch of things to other people. So she’s willing to help me with my blog and in exchange, I’m helping her with some printables & maybe monitoring a few forums for comments. It’s a few hours a week of my time and maybe I’ll learn something and actually progress in my blog by this time next year.

All of that to say, I’m so introverted and isolated, even trusting this person to mentor me through blogging and other things seems a bit scary. I was sitting here the other day wondering why. I never used to be this way. I mean, I’ve always been introverted and standoffish to a degree, but I’m also friendly and used to want to make friends. I used to want relationships and longed for companionship with other women. Now days, I just look at them all as potential threats to my existence. And I can only track this back to my last church experience. I’m still wounded over the friendships I thought I had that ended up tearing me down in the end. No one saved me from that place except me. Even my husband wasn’t on board with the idea at first. Now he says he regrets that. So I guess I can’t blame him. It was an utterly confusing experience that made no sense at all.

I’ve managed to try to make sense of things, but I still can’t seem to trust people. I don’t want to reach out and I don’t care if I’m lonely. I’ve grown somewhat apathetic, I guess. Is this a normal reaction to leaving a spiritually abusive church? Is this a normal response to being hurt by other Christians? I feel guilty that I basically don’t care to know other people and I don’t really want to engage with others right now. Could be because I have so much on my plate–a daughter with depression, another daughter with autism, and a son who is going through a disrespect phase. Plus marriage sucks lately too. I don’t feel as if I have a support system most days. I basically have to support myself. Makes me question why I’m even here, doing this exactly.

Anyway, life is a confusing mess and I can’t imagine adding friends to it. People don’t understand me as it is. They make judgments because they do things better, or made better choices or whatever the hell they think. I don’t even know anymore. I give up on trying to understand why people make shitty comments to me about things they don’t really understand. And this is why I don’t really want to be friends with people or let them in because when I do, I feel like I’m on the defensive.

Maybe someday I’ll get over myself and my problems and come back to reality and be friends with people. Just don’t hold your breath. I’m turning into a hermit and I kind of don’t care.

The Hope At Christmas (& All Year Long)

Christmas isn’t always easy. I find myself sounding like Scrooge a bit. It’s hard to see the good in Christmas. People running around, it’s snowing and traffic is awful, it’s cold, cashiers are cranky, store lines are long, and retailers enjoy sending me 50 emails about their “must have” product. I grow tired of all the commercialism. No thank you, I don’t need that newfangled gadget. I’ve lived without it this far into my life, I think I’ll survive. I don’t always have much hope at Christmas. In fact, I usually can’t wait for it to “just be over with”.

Today my son asked me, “Mom, aren’t you excited for Christmas?” I blurted out, “For your sake, but not mine.” Truthfully, Christmas hurts. It’s not a time to pity myself, but it’s a hard time for me every single year. I remember getting presents from my Dad. My first pair of pink roller skates. I remember the story behind it too. He didn’t have the money, so he got it from his mistress. It pissed my mom right off. She didn’t take the gifts from us, but the holiday sweets he bought went in the trash. I remember crying and asking why my mom would do such a thing, especially since we never had things like that on Christmas. I now realize my Mom was holding back in her anger, but as a kid, I was bewildered. I wonder now what my Dad was thinking. He was willing to hurt my mom’s feelings to give us gifts. These are things I don’t know I’ve ever truly understood about my childhood, or if I ever will. It reminds me that this earth is just a befuddled, confusing place in which to live where people hurt each other for odd reasons and sometimes there is just no good explanation as to why.

The last Christmas I spent with my triplet brother, my mom gave us all red sweatshirts and made us wear them. She wanted us to look like when we were babies and we all were wearing red. This was before those photos were cool–you know the ones where kids dress up like when they were kids and try to clone the picture except they are adults. Anyway, she got her picture. We laughed and made jokes and my Mom grinned ear to ear. Seven months later, my brother was gone. This is how the holidays are. They are always met with memories of joy and fun but traipsing behind it, are reminders of sheer pain that I don’t know I’ll ever truly understand.

I do try to make Christmas fun for my kids. Some years are easier than others. The older I get, the more I long for a world I’ve never known. I long to be done with the chaos, the sadness, the loneliness of this life. I long for a God I’ve not seen face to face. I long for heaven.

Maybe that seems a bit ridiculous. I mean, how can someone long for something they not seen or experienced? I am not sure, but my heart longs to be loved like I never have been. It longs for closeness. It longs for true companionship and acceptance. It longs for a place where I’ll never see death, dying, sin, and sickness. I’ll never be hurt, abused, teased, and told to measure up. I’ll never be looked down on for being female or treated like an incompetent because I’m a woman. I’ll never have to explain myself or be given conditions for which I am loved. I’ll never be confused by a lying tongue and never be manipulated by an evil agenda. I’ll never have to bury a brother, a mother, or a Dad. I’ll never have to experience what it is to lose a family member, and then lose friends too because they don’t understand your grief. My joy will be pure joy, not a moment…a period in time–but forever. And that joy will not be mingle with confusion, bad memories, triggering moments, and sadness.

I can’t imagine what purity, charity, compassion, and empathy is because I’ve never truly known those things here on earth. I’ve only seen minor glimpses. They are lovely when I see them, but fleeting oh so quickly. They come and they go. I can not rely on them. They fly away like dandelion tufts, only to return seasons later. And in-between, I fight to cling to Jesus, a personal God I sometimes question and doubt exists. I wonder if He, like everyone else, has left me too. It’s at Christmas, I’m reminded that He’s with us. He’s holding on to us through our fears, our feelings, and our losses. He’s the one keeping our heads above it all. So much of it, we just can’t see or know. So much of it we question. The hope I hold to is that there are things I just can’t know and I will continue to be confused and misunderstood, but underneath are the arms that will carry me–that have carried me–and will continue to. That’s the hope I hold to at Christmas. It’s the only hope I truly have left.

Peace in chaos

I can’t stand political posts, people blabbing about environmentalism, or throwing around conspiracy theories. It just all makes me want to shut down my computer and never turn it back on. I’m not sure why.

It could be it gives me anxiety. Complaining about the state of our world and thinking about how we are all killing our planet or how the politicians in office are really evil victimizers just makes me want to hide away.

Some of it this idea that a tornado is heading our way and we all run around in a panic trying to hurl words into a storm. We get this lofty idea that we are bigger than we are. We think we can save our planet by planting trees or not eating meat or whatever other theory we are force fed to believe. Or we get angry and call Trump names or belittle the people in charge. Most of it seems deserved. But I wonder what’s the point? Do we really have the capability to save the world?

There’s a big assumption that comes into play. It’s the assumption that God isn’t in control and that we need to run around and do all these things to protect our planet or make the world better. Sure we should definitely care and try to bring justice to the oppressed or shine a light on evil or, if you feel so led, plant a tree (the environmental stuff just makes me roll my eyes)…but let’s not forget that we are merely humans. How many times did Christ say not to fear?

I’m not saying to be apathetic. But what I see happening is outright panic and fanatical thinking. Do this and stop doing that and the world will be better. Be vegan. Grow your own food. Buy guns. Or the opposite–trust everything the government tells you. Rely on them for health insurance. Let them take away your guns. See how the pendulum swings from one crazy idea to another? The answers are always a result of fear mongering.

Sometimes I shut off Twitter, walk away from facebook, and unsubscribe from blogs. Its too easy to lose my sense of serenity.

I remember being a kid and my mom would tell me to memorize a verse on Philippians 4:8 and I would get so mad that she made me do it. But the verse has stayed with me in these times when it’s much too easy to be sucked into the fear and anxiety of our world today.

Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

God is still the Creator of the Universe and in control of every aspect of his creation. People sin, fail, and abuse but we are not to fear, but trust even when all looks bleak. And most importantly, we are to remember the promise that God makes all things new and uses these things for good. In this, we can live in peace even when all seems to be chaos.


Sometimes a song resonates with me. The song, Roots by Imagine Dragons is that song for me. I’ve highlighted the words that stand out the most.

Don’t throw stones at me
Don’t tell anybody
Trouble finds me
All the noise of this
Has made me lose my belief

I’m going back to my roots
Another day, another door
Another high, another low
Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom
I’m going back to my roots
Another day, another door
Another high, another low
Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom
I’m going back to my roots

Had to lose my way
To know which road to take
Trouble found me
All I look forward
Washed away by a wave

I’m going back to my roots
Another day, another door
Another high, another low
Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom
I’m going back to my roots
Another day, another door
Another high, another low
Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom
I’m going back to my roots

I know it’s gotta go like this, I know
Hell will always come before you grow
Trouble found me, trouble found me
I know it’s gotta go like this, I know
Hell will always come before you grow
Trouble found me, trouble found me

I’m going back to my roots
Another day, another door
Another high, another low
Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom
I’m going back to my roots
Another day, another door
Another high, another low
Rock bottom, rock bottom, rock bottom
I’m going back to my roots

This song reminds me that sometimes you have to lose all your beliefs before you can really know what you do believe. Uncertainty is real. I guess I have to sit in it. Go back to the start. Find the smallest hope underneath all of this noise.
It looks like trouble but its really finding faith all over again.

Roots – Youtube

The Love of the Game

I’m not a legalistic Christian. I don’t think listening to secular music or going to R rated movies makes you a bad Christian. I do sometimes question why you’d listen to a song about sex or drugs, or watch a movie with people having sex and swearing non-stop, but I don’t think those things sends you off to hell. I do find it humorous what some Christians find acceptable. R rated movies and “bad” music becomes a sermon. Watching football doesn’t.

Ah, football. The sport where overpaid babies run around on a field and then go home and smack the snot out of their wives. The sport that leads to brain injuries, which is to blame for these men going crazy and killing other people. According to New York Daily News:

The frequency of head injuries in football has contributed to high rates among former NFL players of chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE, the degenerative brain disease that can lead to erratic behavior, mood swings, inability to concentrate and depression. The disease, which can only be definitively diagnosed posthumously, was a factor in the demise of Junior Seau, Frank Gifford, Dave Duerson, among many others.

The sport has other issues too for those who view it. Screaming at the TV, getting upset, being emotionally invested and then possibly taking it out on other people when your team loses. Don’t get me started on fantasy leagues either. Places like FanDuel allows you to bet on the made up “fantasy” teams. Fantasy football is a million dollar industry. It’s not just for football either. Baseball and other sports are also included. And men spend money and lots of time on these things. Yet you will never hear a pastor at the pulpit speak against it. Instead, he’ll probably use it as an analogy for life or something.

Of course, moderation is always key. Football, in and of itself, isn’t evil. Sport activities aren’t bad. I could argue the NFL was terrible and promoted terrible things, but they are an entertainment industry. They are no different than the guys who put out smutty movies or the music industry with their sexual lyrics and vulgar hate. Their half time shows glorify people who sell sex for a living. On the side lines are cheerleaders who use their bodies to entertain men. And every week, men gather around the TV, avoid their families (unless their families enjoy it too) and participate in an industry that hates women and ignores the health of their players.

You might cringe at R rated movies and music that doesn’t glorify Christ, but if you watch football and praise the players, the NFL, and the industry, doesn’t that seem a bit hypocritical?