My Angry Christmas Letter

My Angry Christmas Letter

A few years ago, I received a Christmas letter from one of the Godliest women I know. It wasn’t your typical Christmas letter. She had fallen through the attic and broken multiple bones. She typed with one hand. Her letter was raw and real and truthful. In spite of the pain, she had hope in Christ.

This year I’m opting for truth. If you prefer candy canes and professional photos of happy families by the Christmas tree, stop reading now.

Because this year, I’m angry.

Perhaps you heard about our stint in Children’s ICU and a new diagnosis for our youngest, the “healthy” one, of Type 1 Diabetes.

“There is no cure” they said. “This is your new normal,” they say. “She’ll be dependent on insulin the rest of her life.” “You can’t save her remaining pancreas beta cells.” “Just give her more insulin.”

Every night I brush her beautiful read hair and another handful falls out.

“Will I lose it all, mommy?”

I don’t know.

So I lie.

“Of course not, sweetie.”

I smile. And I lie. And I’m angry.

In the words of our little neighbor years ago, “Mommy is sick. She’s sick and tired.”

I’m tired of fighting.

I fought 5G for months. Spoke at every city council meeting for miles around. Spoke to our friend the Senator. Spoke to the News. They ignored us. They called us conspiracy theorists. They passed the buck. They said there was nothing they could do.

I told my girls I was sorry I was so busy, but someday I wanted them to be proud of me for fighting for them.

I knew this would cause health effects that we could not begin to foresee.

Little did I know, Diabetes and uncontrolled blood sugars was one of them.

This MD, she knew. She told the world. Diabetes. Suicides. Neurological Problems. (She failed to mention that it would tank the collective immune systems of humanity…leaving them open to “a blizzard of disease and viruses.” But, it’s hard to fit in all the facts in 5 minutes or less.)

So yes, I’m angry.

For my daughter, who can literally FEEL when we go over a hill and come in site of a 5G tower.

“Mommy, there’s a tower nearby. I can feel it.” She tells me from the back seat.

Oh, but I know what you’re thinking. “It’s just her imagination.” “She’s just sensitive.” “It won’t affect me or my family.” “Obviously, you did something wrong or this wouldn’t have happened to you.”

Perhaps you should stop reading now. Your bubble is such a pretty color…

A woman came up to me at the Capitol a few months ago.

“I owe you an apology” she said. I was confused…I had no idea who this woman was.

“I’m a member of a PANDAS facebook group, and last year you asked us to help you fight 5G. I was too busy at the time, and too overwhelmed, to join you. Now, every time I’m within site of a 5G tower, my skin starts burning. We’re looking for land as far from the city as we can go. Maybe the hills, where should we go? Where are we safest?”

I appreciated her apology.

I spoke at a Farm Bureau meeting about Humanure. A crusty farmer came up to me afterward, speaking in a low voice.

“Every time I get near a 5G tower, I feel like I’m being electrocuted. I ended up in the hospital yesterday, thought I was having a heart attack, but they can’t find anything wrong.”

But don’t worry, I’m sure we’re the only ones….

Or perhaps it’s time to get angry.

Because our Government (under Trump, and now Biden) refused to stop 5G on every corner, and on every telephone pole, and now in space (Elon’s Starlink), there is literally nowhere to hide.

Yes, I’m angry.

I’m angry that children don’t know if they’re boys or girls, because we’ve polluted our air and our water and our food with phytoestrogens and testosterones and allow Humanure full of birth control and pharmaceuticals to be dumped on our land and over our aquifers, and our babies are pumped full of the opposite sex’s DNA from v@ccines created with the aborted fetal cells from girls and boys sacrificed “for the greater good.”

I’m angry that we now “accept” blatant lies and pedophilia as a “preference” and say nothing, because it wouldn’t be politically correct and heaven forbid we might offend someone.

I’m angry that our children are guinea pigs and cash cows for pharmaceutical companies to test their experimental products.

I’m angry that the pharmacy that is charging me $1,000 for the insulin my child needs to survive, is doling out “free” v@ccines to children her age with unknown (and known*) side effects.

I’m angry that those “free” v@ccines are triggering Type 1 Diabetes and out of control blood sugars and ketoacidosis, and no one says a word.* (Not to mention Myocarditis and Strokes and autoimmune diseases they ‘didn’t count’ as side effects in the trials.)

I’m angry that churches everywhere have forgotten that THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR HOME, and that we cannot add a single hour to our lives, not by wearing a mask, or getting a v@ccine, or refusing to visit our loved ones and Grandparents “to keep them safe.”

I’m angry that we’ve forgotten that our “Safety” is in Christ. Not in a pharmaceutical company or a government policy or a million dollar bank account.

I’m angry that we’ve been taught a gospel of complacency and do-nothingness. A gospel of “accepting God’s will” rather than a gospel that reminds us WE ARE HIS ARMY. And He’s coming back, not on a peaceful donkey, but on a War Horse.

So don’t tell me to accept this. Don’t tell me to be at peace. Don’t tell me to wait on Christ’s return to make it all right.

He didn’t put me on this earth to be a passive bump on a log. To do nothing and expecting Him to reward me for my life of ease.

He put me here to FIGHT. He put YOU here to FIGHT. With everything in you, FIGHT. If not for yourself, for your children, and your grandchildren.

May He fill you with the Holy Spirit and His Righteous Anger this Season.

For all that is lost. For all that is wrong. For all that He came to set us free from.

Do not sit idly by while the world goes to hell.

Put on your armour, prepare yourself for battle.

He isn’t finished with us yet.

Merry Christmas from the Donkey Dairy