I am obsessed with this video. You know the video where the guy goes through Chick-fil-A to protest it by taking a free water. He gets carried away and goes on to bully the young girl waiting on him. Watching the video, you see his arrogance and vitriol to Chick-fil-A. And what was he protesting? He was protesting the fact that Chick-fil-A gave money to charity groups that were Christian in nature. Chick-fil-A had said nothing hateful. They didn’t come out and say we won’t serve homosexuals, EVER! It was just revealed that they are run by Christians and donate to Christian charities. But this guy, he’s so pumped, he’s giving a verbal bullying session before he even reaches the poor girl that is going to serve him. His hateful, angry words are what get me every time. He is so pumped. You can totally see him gearing up for the fight.

If you don’t know the end of this story, here it is. The guy in the video gets fired from his $200,000/year job the next day. There were so many voice mails to his business, the business owners said he was too much of a liability. Whoopsie. He had posted the video himself. He took it down just a little too late. As a result of his firing, he moved to Oregon to get another high paying job. Within two weeks of that job, they found out about the creative little video he had made, and promptly fired him. He tried to get several other jobs after that, but his Chick-fil-A past kept haunting him. Now his wife works, but doesn’t make nearly the money he used to, and they live on food stamps. That’s what you would call a spectacular fall!

You reap what you sow. That is a Biblical fact. We can’t escape it. We can’t hide from it. God sees all, God knows all. WE REAP WHAT WE SOW. Or, in everyday terms, ‘you pick what you planted.’ Or, ‘you get what you got coming to you.’ Or, ‘Sin now, pay later,’ Or, ‘You do something naughty, you will have to pay.’ Okay that last one was a little weak, but you get the idea.

I’m bringing this up because I’m still stuck on the topic of Target. Since Target’s big announcement about their new ‘magical bathrooms,’ their stock has taken a hit of about $20.00/share. They’ve dropped that much. Their sales were down almost 12%. Their excuse for such a drop is that all stores drop around this time of year. But if you look at other stores like Walmart, they only dropped about 6%. Target is twice that much. (You know, I homeschool, that is why I’m so good at all these numbers!). I’m watching Target closely. You reap what you sow. I’m anxious to see how this all plays out.

I had the red card, when Target had that major security breach a couple of years ago. I immediately canceled it. They had to do a lot of damage control to get back up on their feet. Now they have excluded over 1.2 million customers for the sake of including 0.3% of the population if it’s even that much. And there has to be more boycotters than that. I’m boycotting it and I haven’t signed the petition. I talked to a friend of mine and she’s boycotting too, and hasn’t signed the petition. So the numbers of boycotters is much higher than 1.2 million. The numbers of transgenders may even be less than o.3%.

Target we’re watching you. Cue that 80’s Rockwell song, “Somebody’s Watching Me,” We’re watching you to see when you reap what you have sown, if you don’t reverse this very dangerous, don’t care about the safety of our customers, bathroom policy. And that is a very big “IF.” The way things look now, they don’t seem like they are going to yield. If they want to staunch the bleeding, they need to have a mutiny. That captain’s mad and he wants everyone to go down with the ship. Someone in Target needs to wave a white flag. Someone needs to declare, “The Emperor’s Wearing No Clothes!” There has got to be someone on board Target who doesn’t want to go down with the ship. Somebody? Anybody? They can’t all be mad over there, can they? Has everybody just lost their minds? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

My blog is called, “Knowledge of good and evil.” (In case, you didn’t notice). I talk a lot about my faith in Jesus Christ here. But I’m going to switch gears here today and talk about health. I have found a “magic” cure for some health issues and thought I should share it with you. This “magic” cure, helps you sleep better at night, relaxes your muscles, takes away anxiety, builds bigger muscles, makes your teeth stronger, and makes you happy. All with zero side effects. (Okay, there’s one little side effect we’ll discuss later).

You are probably thinking I’ve become some sort of salesman for some new drug. Nope. I get no commission off of this. Zero dollars are coming my way. It’s just had such an amazing effect on my family’s health and some friends that I have to share it with you. Plus, my dad said I should. (Always got to listen to the parents!). Jesus Christ and the Bible are an absolute must in our lives. But we have physical bodies as well, and we need to treat them well, so we can live for Jesus in the best way possible.

I should give you some back story before I unveil this great secret. About ten or so years ago, maybe even more, my husband was getting really sick. I mean sick. He felt nauseated much of the time and threw up a lot. (Sorry for the grossness). I thought it was my cooking. He went to a doctor. He came home with a huge bag of high-end antacid pills. I asked him what the doctor said and he said she asked him what he was stressed about. Okay. My husband starting taking the antacid pills. They didn’t have much effect. He went back to the doctor. She ordered a CAT scan for him. Nothing. A friend suggested his gall bladder might be kaput. Nope. He had an x-ray. Nothing. In the back of my mind I still wondered about my cooking. Another friend suggested that he might be gluten intolerant. We took him off of gluten. That helped some. He didn’t feel AS bloated. However, the nausea was sticking with him. I searched everywhere on the internet to find out what would cause this. I needed evidence it wasn’t my cooking. On the internet I discovered that dairy intolerance often goes hand in hand with gluten intolerance. We took him off of that. It helped some. But still the nausea stuck with him like grim death. Okay.

Finally, I started praying about it for God to give us some answers. Well I was watching a program one day and this guy on the show was a sleep expert. He talked about how getting enough sleep will help you lose weight. That peeked my interest. He said, to help you sleep drink banana tea. You boil a banana peel with the banana and make this tea. There are high levels of magnesium in the banana peel. I wanted to try it. Sleep is important to me and being in perimenopause, my sleep wasn’t as good as it should be. That night I made some for myself, and my husband. It was amazing. We slept like logs that night. I also woke up feeling really groovy. Ed didn’t report any nausea. But he had gotten to the point that he didn’t want to burden me so he would try and hide it. Well the first night of our banana tea drinking adventure was so good, we started making this a habit. And the excellent side effects persisted: great sleep, a groovy feeling and no nausea for my hubsters (but we hadn’t made the connection yet).

Fast forward a few months and I notice odd things happening in my body. The only thing I was doing that was different was the banana tea. I realize, I’m boiling banana peels for the magnesium, but the peels probably have a lot of stuff on them that I shouldn’t be eating. Like bad stuff in the pesticides family. I take a break from the banana tea. And since I’m the one who makes it, so does my husband. A few days into our banana tea fast, my husband gets really, really sick. He hasn’t been this way for a long time. I think about it for a bit. I go to the internet and look up magnesium. I find this website that says one of the biggest signs of magnesium deficiency is…wait for it… nausea and vomiting. Oh, wow! The hubbers is magnesium deficient. Another website lists off the major benefits of magnesium. It says almost all of us are magnesium deficient. Magnesium has a part in over three-hundred processes in our bodies. Melatonin NEEDS magnesium so it can be produced in our bodies. Seratonin (that feel good hormone) needs magnesium to be produced in our bodies. Magnesium clears out our guts (ever hear of ‘milk of magnesia?). Books have been written about the amazing benefits of it. So I researched and found several suggestions for good magnesium supplements.

Now, since the hubby has been taking magnesium, the nausea is gone. My son was complaining about not sleeping well at night. So now he takes it and is getting at least eight hours of sleep. There are videos on youtube that talk about taking magnesium.

I said there are virtually no side effects. There is one – diarrhea.  It cleans out your guts really well, so you may have to ease into it. I had to. But I built up to it and now take 400mg a night.

So if you are having trouble sleeping at night, trouble with constipation, sadness, anxiety, muscle pain and stiffness, nausea and vomiting, try out magnesium. It’s like a little wonder mineral.

I hope it blesses your family as much as it has mine. Some people ask about my pictures at the beginning of my posts. I try to match my pictures with what I’m saying. I thought the little guy at the beginning of this post looked content and happy, just like you will look when you start taking magnesium.

I have never talked about this to anyone, but my husband. I don’t really want to talk about it now. It’s taken me hours to force myself to write about what I’m about to tell you, but I think it’s important during this whole transgender magical bathroom discussion.

When I was a little girl, we lived in California. My mom would drop us off at the babysitter’s house and then we would walk to the school with the babysitter’s daughter, three little girls walking a few blocks to school. It wasn’t very far, and we would meet the crossing guard who happily walked us across the street with their big “STOP” sign they held to keep the cars away.

One day we were halfway to school, when we walked just passed this white car, whose door was open. As we passed, we looked over to see who was in the car. Shocked would be an understatement at what we saw. A man was laying down across the front seat of his car. His legs were hanging out the passenger side of the door. His pants were pulled halfway down, completely exposing himself. He had a newspaper over his face, while his other hand played with himself. It was one of those moments, you remember vividly. You can’t erase it. It’s burned into my brain. I remember the red colored interior of the car and the biological details of the man, which I shall not gross you out with. We freaked. We ran to the crossing guard. And then we ran all the way to school. I don’t remember anything after that. He didn’t touch us. But the event was so wicked it left me feeling dirty and violated.

When a kid experiences trauma like that, we tend to bury it deep in our subconscious. Somehow, one of us told our parents. My parents called the police.

When the police came over, they talked to my sister and I. As the police talked to us, I remember the feeling that I was in trouble. I was extremely embarrassed answering the policeman’s questions about what we had seen. I didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t shake the idea that I was in trouble and didn’t want to relive what I had seen that day. The police told us to get the license plate number if it happens again and to go to the crossing guard and tell them.

The next day it did happen. As we turned the corner to walk up the street again, there was the white car. There was the door open. We knew what was on the other side of the door. As we walked closer and closer we came up with a plan. One person would memorize the first numbers of the license plate and then the other person would memorize the second. We wouldn’t look in the car as we passed it. But we would look back at the license plate, trying to be subtle. Again, memory has a unique way of burying traumatic events. I think we may have told the crossing guard. All I really remember, was that was the last time we ever saw that car and it’s wicked occupant.

Children are not meant to see naked adults of the opposite sex. What that man was trying to do, was wicked and twisted. Transgender people are extremely confused and not well. Transgender people are not healthy at all. When we open the door of our bathrooms to transgender people, we are opening the door for children to be exposed to something they aren’t supposed to see. Transgender people are mentally ill and can’t make proper decisions for your children. They are only out to appease themselves in their twisted view of themselves. They don’t see others. They just see their own wants, at the dismissal of others.

When you invite all people to use any bathroom of their choosing, you have just sent out an engraved invitation to wicked men like the one I just talked about to come into our bathrooms and inflict sexual abuse on our young girls and women. Don’t think that they won’t. Those sexual predators ARE out there.

Target has made a stand saying they’re being inclusive to all people while excluding more than 1.2 million customers who say they don’t want this. Target is not the number one store, Walmart is. A few years ago, Target decided not to say “Merry Christmas.” Then, two and half years ago, Target suffered a huge breach in their customer security. People dropped them like a hot potato. This is bigger than saying “Merry Christmas.” I’m very curious as to what will happen to Target next. These things don’t slip past God’s nose unaware. God is fully aware of what type of business Target is. God knows how the many customers feel, who have signed the boycott. The Titanic comes to mind. They were so proud of their ship they announced that, “Not even God can sink it.” And then it sunk, because several bolts on it’s exterior got shaved off. Hmmm. Target, just warning you. You make a stand against people and mostly Christian people, God notices.

There is much talk lately about transgenderism and bathrooms. I gave it some thought and here’s what I came up with.

Firstly, I am a woman. I was born a girl baby, then grew into a girl toddler, then into a girl, then a female teenager, all the way up to woman. I have been a woman all my life. I’ve thought about what makes me a woman. A very basic test for whether I’m a woman or not, is just looking down. Just before I hop in the shower, I can look down and see clearly, I am a woman. I can see other things too, like the tummy I have and that my toenails need clipping, but I digress. Clearly, when I look down, I am a woman. It’s a very simple test.

Transgender men have to DO a lot of things to make them feel like a woman. They wear a lot of makeup. And I’m talking a LOT of it. They put on dresses and high heels and spanx, to give them that sense that they are a woman. They wear all of that stuff, yet many of us (women) hate it because it is such a burden. But there are those transgender males, piling on the makeup, squeezing themselves into pantyhose, fussing with their hair, and all that jazz. If they don’t do these things, clearly, they are men. They have to put on all the makeup, women’s clothing, high heels and spanx, because otherwise they look just like men.

If I don’t wear lipstick one day, I’m still a woman. In fact, I can go several days without lipstick, and I am still a female.

If I wear raggedy shorts (my homeschool uniform) and not a dress, I am, clearly, a woman. Think of that simple test I talked about earlier.

I don’t wear nail polish and I have remained a woman all these years. Even without the nail polish.

I don’t wear high heels, I prefer tennis shoes. I am woman hear me roar.

The more we reject God, the more we don’t want to accept His opinion on things. He made both men and women, He knows what He is doing. Yet a small percentage of people (and I mean a VERY small percentage) have decided that’s not what they want to be.

Transgender Man: “I don’t want to be a man, I want to be a woman!”

God: “Well I made you a man.”

Transgender Man: “I don’t want to be a man!!!”

God: “Well you can’t change that, I’ve already decided what you are.”

Transgender Man: “I’ll wear lipstick! I’ll get breast implants! I’ll take female hormones!!!”

God: “Well now, you will just be a weird man. I made you perfect, why are you wanting to mutilate yourself?”

Transgender Man: “I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body!!!”

God: “Well that was for about nine months. You are free now!”

Transgender Man: “I’ll use the woman’s bathroom! You know I will!”

God: “That won’t make you a woman. You will just be a weird man going in a women’s bathroom.”

Transgenders are merely playing dress up. Insisting, they use a women’s bathroom is just part of the play acting. It’s all a mental illness and we are just contributing to their ridiculous fantasy. Going into a woman’s bathroom does not make you a woman. I can go into a men’s bathroom and I will come out a woman every time. I could go in there a thousand times, and still come out a woman. I will never walk into a man’s restroom and get magically changed into a man. Can you imagine if that could happen?

First Boy: “C’mon, let’s go in the women’s restroom today. Let’s freak out our moms.”

Second Boy: “Are you sure? What if we can’t change back?”

First Boy: “My brother does it all the time. C’mon. Let’s just try it!”

Second Boy: “I’m scared. I don’t want to be a woman.”

First Boy: “We’ll go right back into the men’s room and we’ll change right back. C’mon. It will be fun!”

Second Boy: “Okay…I guess…you promise? We’re going right back into the men’s room to change back?”

First Boy: “Yes! I promise. We’ll change back right away!’

You know if that could happen it would happen in cities across the nation. Kids all over the place would be hopping into the magical bathrooms to change their sex. But it won’t ever happen. There are no magical bathrooms. Our sex is fixed just like the sun. The sun rises and sets everyday because it was fixed by God. Our sex is male and female because it was fixed by God. We can’t change the sun and we can’t change our sex. God fixed both. And God made both beautiful.

I was going to be the greatest basketball star Dillingham ever saw. Really, I was. I had been planning this in my head for as long as I could remember. And seeing as there was nothing else to do in town, being the greatest basketball star seemed like a really good idea. It was better than getting high, drunk or pregnant, which seemed like the only other options for kids.

We didn’t have little league or any such thing. So I didn’t get to prove my muster until I reached 7th grade and could play Junior High basketball. I was tall and getting taller, so things were looking good for my plan of becoming the greatest basketball star. I showed up the first day of practice. This was all part of the plan. We had to do layups. Coach didn’t show us how to do a layup, so I figured, since this WAS my dream and I was tall, a layup wasn’t too hard.

Coach talked about offense and defense. Having never played basketball before I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. (Hey, we didn’t have internet back then, give me a break!) He made us run lines at the end of practice. Whew! Those really hurt. I was in the middle of a major growth spurt and those lines really did kill my knees. (Just so you know, I grew five inches in a little over a year, so there).

So we kept practicing. I kept doing my layups. I kept trying to follow coach when he talked about offense and defense. I kept running those lines, though my knees were killing me. Frankly, I was killing it. My plan was succeeding.

The first game was a home game. Not sure who we were playing, but I was ready. All twelve of us were ready and raring to go. Game time. I wasn’t one of the starting five, but that’s okay, I was only a seventh grader. It was the eighth graders who were starting. Everything was part of the plan. I was playing basketball, getting taller, and working the knees. It was all coming true. The game started. The starting five, started playing. We were doing well. We were winning. We played the first half of the game and we came back to the second half at a comfortable lead. By the fourth quarter, we were so far ahead, coach started putting the bench in to play. There was seven of us. One girl got put in. Another girl went in. And another, and another. Four of the bench were put in the game. Then the fifth girl. And now there were two girls left on the bench who didn’t have any play time. I looked up at the clock. There were three minutes left. The girl next to me got put in the game. Two minutes left to play. One minute and thirty seconds left to play. I was still sitting on the bench. My eyes got really wet. I swallowed hard. My eyes were blurred. I’m not going to play this first game. That was okay. I think I’m okay. But I wasn’t okay. I was sitting at the end of the bench with tears dripping down my face, watching my dream shatter. Suddenly, there was thirty seconds on the clock. Coach called me to go in. Thirty seconds on the clock!!! That was how good I was? I choked back the tears and trotted out to the court. I was so emotional, I didn’t know what I was doing out there. But I only had less than thirty seconds. How bad could I screw it up?

My dream died that day. The next day after the game, my mom, who didn’t know a thing about basketball, took me to the local court to practice layups. Apparently, despite my height, my layups weren’t very good.

The facts surrounding my basketball playing seemed to paint a picture of me not being a very good basketball player. The coach waited until there were thirty seconds in the game to put me in. My mom felt she needed to help me in my layups. I still didn’t know what offense or defense was. I’m not a very good basketball player. The most painful part of that realization, was sitting there on the bench, feeling rejected by the coach. Being the last one on the bench to be put in the game. The coach waiting for the last thirty seconds before he would put me in. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the coach to pick me.

That whole story reminds me of God. I never had to sit on the bench and wait for Him. He did the work on the cross and waited with His arms open wide for me to accept Him as my Savior. I never had to be good enough. I never had to be perfect or good. He wanted me just as I was. He loved me just as I was. He accepted me just as I was. God loved me and I never had to prove anything to Him. He did the work. That is what I love about my faith. It was never anything I had to do. It was all God, always God. How amazing is that?

P.S. I didn’t always stink as a basketball player. The following year, I led our team to mostly wins as a starting five center. I went through high school playing basketball and played two years for my college team. So I didn’t stink all the time. I just had to learn the game. And I had to learn that basketball wasn’t everything. (I learned that lesson first thing).