Bezos’ $56 Million Second Wedding Is A Monument To A Culture That Celebrates Divorce

Odds are against Bezos’ new marriage given his previous record, age, and relationship conduct.

The New York Times Is Mad Transportation Secretary Duffy Raised A Big, Happy Family

A happy and successful man became the target of NYT ire simply because he promotes the secret to his endless joy whenever he can.

The 10 Years Since Obergefell Have Proven Its Critics Right

Opposing same-sex marriage is essential to defending the truth about human nature and about how we flourish and are fulfilled.

When the soul flatlines, call a ‘Code Grace’



Gracie, her mobility tech, and I moved slowly through the hospital hallway — our usual recovery route. She had just had her 92nd operation — yes, 92 — and she’s had six more since.

She walked on prosthetic legs with semi-quiet grit and more than a little sweat. An IV tree clanked beside her — wound vacs, oxygen, pain meds — a parade of endurance wrapped in machinery.

When the soul flatlines, don’t step back. Step in. Call the code. Be the grace.

Then came the yelling. Two doors down — profanity, chaos, pain.

We couldn’t move fast — not with all the gear and lines. The screaming was piercing. And no, nurses don’t get paid nearly enough.

“Code Gray,” someone said, the hospital code for a combative patient. Within seconds, nurses and security swarmed the room. As best we could, we steered Gracie and her gear down another hallway away from the noise. But the echoes followed — the anger, the struggle, the desperation.

Outside the chaos stood a woman — mid-50s, hollow-eyed, worn to the threads.

I knew the look. I’ve worn it. So will every caregiver sooner or later.

While her loved one raged, she stood helpless, desperate, hoping someone — anyone — might bring peace.

She was also in crisis. But hospitals have no code for her.

Hospitals have codes for medical emergencies:

  • Code Blue: A patient stops breathing. I’ve lived through that. Years ago, Gracie flatlined. I watched the team rush in and bring her back.
  • Code Red: Fire.
  • Code Pink: Infant abduction.
  • Code Gray: Aggression.

All are designed to alert, mobilize, and respond.

But what code do you call for when the soul collapses?

‘Code Grace’

We need a “Code Grace” — recognized by caregivers, hospital staff, churches, funeral homes, rehab centers, law enforcement, maybe even a nation — a code that triggers presence instead of procedures, compassion over containment, tenderness before triage.

Because sometimes the real damage isn’t limited to the patient’s bed. It’s standing just outside the door, trying not to fall apart.

The morning after that Code Gray, I walked into the lobby of the extended-stay hotel across from the hospital. Most guests there were tethered to the same world we were: the renowned children’s and teaching hospital nearby.

Then, I saw them again.

A mother, two children, and a woman I assumed was the grandmother. Weeks earlier, I’d seen the boy — screaming, flailing in a stroller — his mother and grandmother scrambling to contain the storm. Sensory overload. Fear. Pain in public. They rushed out before I could speak.

But now they were back and calm.

The mother looked tired — because she was. But steady. Present. Her mother stood beside her. Her son was quiet. Her daughter bounced nearby, unaware of the weight her mom carried.

I walked over and said, “I remember you from a couple weeks ago.”

That’s all it took. A door opened. Not pity. Not awkwardness. Just respect.

She shared her story: single mom, two kids — one with autism. Studying for a special education certification. The father? Gone. Domestic violence. But she didn’t quit. She just kept going.

She asked about me. I gave her the short version — my wife’s journey, my four decades as a caregiver. Then I looked her in the eye and said: “From one caregiver to another — you’re amazing.”

Tears welled up. Not from weakness. From being seen. Heard. Understood. For one moment, grace was louder than exhaustion.

Before I left, I shook her hand. “I’m proud to know you.” I also shared a quote I’d once heard — origin debated, but worth repeating:

You’ll never be criticized by someone doing more than you. Only by someone doing less. Remember that.

She nodded. She already knew.

What our nation needs now

But Code Grace isn’t just for hospitals and their periphery. We see soul flatlines everywhere — newsfeeds, comment sections, family dinners.

I’ve watched people unravel over political figures, convinced one man will either save or doom the nation. For some, it’s full allegiance to Trump (or Elon). For others, it’s Trump derangement syndrome — the belief that he’s the Antichrist with a social media account. But press in closer, and you’ll see: It’s not really about policy. It’s about meaning.

When faith erodes and identity frays, people grasp for something — anything — to hold on to. They hitch it to a personality, a movement, or a fight. That’s not politics; that’s a spiritual crisis. And yes, they need a Code Grace, too. Not to validate hysteria but to look behind it.

As many therapists say, “If it’s hysterical, it’s historical.” Beneath the rage is often someone terrified of being forgotten or irrelevant.

Jesus didn’t flinch at that kind of mess. He didn’t come to preserve an empire. He came to raise the dead. He didn’t wait for calm. He walked straight into the noise — and told it to be still.

He saw the bleeding woman, the man in the tree, the leper, the blind, the demon-possessed, the grieving sisters. He saw what others missed — or avoided. And he moved toward them with healing, with power, with grace.

Move toward the pain

The theologian Henri Nouwen once wrote, “Compassion asks us to go where it hurts … to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. ... Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.”

That’s the Code Grace response — and it’s not optional. It’s the calling of anyone who wears His name.

If we listen closely, we can hear the silent code.

Not in the ER but in the eyes of a caregiver who hasn’t slept; the tremble of a mother navigating autism in public; the woman in the hallway, trying not to scream; the colleagues gripped by headlines — because they’ve pinned their peace to politics instead of promises that don’t change.

When the soul flatlines, don’t step back.

Step in. Call the code. Be the grace.

Kids Don’t Just Need A Father Figure. They Need A Dad

America’s children need both fathers and dads in their lives to grow up strong and healthy.

Stepdads Have A Unique Opportunity To Teach True Love

Great stepfathers know, to truly love someone, you must care for the things they care about. Loving a mother means wholeheartedly loving her children.

Pride Month’s true competition? Faith, family, freedom



This June, as rainbow flags flutter and parades march on, a noticeable shift has occurred — corporate America is stepping back from its once-vocal support of Pride Month. That retreat offers conservatives not just a moment to observe but a moment to reflect: What are the values we ought to be truly proud of? What are we, as a nation, actually celebrating?

This year, according to Gravity Research, nearly 4 in 10 companies are scaling back Pride-related activities — a major jump from just 9% last year. Major sponsors like Google, Home Depot, Mastercard, and Citi have withdrawn support from some of the largest Pride events in North America. Even entertainment giants like Netflix and Disney have noticeably toned down their rainbow-wrapped algorithms.

If this trend is truly reversing, what should we celebrate instead?

These aren’t isolated incidents. They are part of a growing corporate recalibration — one triggered by consumer backlash. The Bud Light and Target controversies of recent years proved that when brands pander to divisive ideologies, everyday Americans take notice — and they push back. The market has spoken, and many companies are now listening. I’ll crack a Coors Light to that.

None of this is to dismiss the real people behind Pride Month — Americans who genuinely desire dignity, respect, and the freedom to live without fear or hostility. Every person is made in the image of God and deserves to be treated with decency. But that’s precisely why the corporate exploitation of these communities is so hollow. When support is only loud during ad campaigns and silent when there's pushback, it reveals that the motive was never about justice — it was about profit. Those who truly care about human dignity should be just as offended by this performative marketing as anyone else.

If companies are now walking away from Pride because it’s no longer profitable, we should ask a deeper question: Were they ever really “with” the LGBT community in the first place — or were they simply exploiting a cause to sell products?

The answer is obvious.

It wasn’t support — it was a sales strategy.Betrayal dressed in bright colors. You can’t sell “authenticity,” and these brands proved it.

What we’ve witnessed over the past decade is the rise — and now the reckoning — of performative activism. Rainbow logos in June. BLM hashtags in July. DEI statements in quarterly reports. All too often, these campaigns have felt more like virtue-signaling PR stunts than sincere commitments. It’s what critics have dubbed “rainbow capitalism”: when a company paints itself in the colors of a movement, not to live its values but to boost its bottom line.

One organization that has been instrumental in exposing this performative activism is Consumers’ Research. As a conservative watchdog group, it has launched campaigns targeting companies it perceives as prioritizing progressive agendas over their customers. For instance, in response to Bud Light’s partnership with a transgender influencer, Consumers' Research initiated a “Woke Alerts” campaign to inform consumers about companies' political stances. The organization's efforts have played a significant role in holding corporations accountable and encouraging a return to customer-focused values.

So, if this trend is truly reversing, what should we celebrate instead?

Rather than centering our national pride around identity groups or political campaigns, we should be celebrating the things that actually hold America together — faith, family, freedom, and community.

Faith, not in the empty slogans of corporate human resources departments, but in a higher purpose. Faith that grounds our moral order and has shaped the conscience of our country from the beginning. One can’t help but think of Matthew 15:8: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”

RELATED: Rainbow rebellion: How Christians can take back what Pride Month stole

  rarrarorro via iStock/Getty Images

Family, the foundational institution that no government program can replace. It’s within the home that virtue is taught, character is formed, and citizens are raised.

Freedom, especially the freedom to speak the truth — even when it’s unpopular — and to live according to conscience without fear of cancellation or coercion. The most inclusive flag in the land is Old Glory.

And community — real, local, lived-in community — where Americans help each other not because of corporate campaigns, but because it’s the right thing to do.

We know better. These are the values that deserve celebration. These are the virtues that built this country. And if corporate America is finally pulling back from the cultural fray, maybe it’s time for all of us to recommit — not to branding campaigns, but to the timeless truths that made America strong in the first place.

Pride Month 2025 isn’t just about what’s changing on Madison Avenue. It’s about what’s possible on Main Street. Let’s use this moment not to divide but to unify — by celebrating what we’ve always had reason to be proud of.

False Promises: Sexual Liberation Hurts Us All

A new book details how the sexual revolution has backfired and has severely damaged Western society.

Disney Ditches Lilo And Stitch’s Core Message Of ‘Ohana’ For The Sake Of Feminism

This new interpretation of the 2002 cult film has a brand-new ending that changes the story's message.

Phil Robertson Leaves An Eternity-Focused Legacy That Will Last Well Beyond Duck Dynasty’s Fame

[rebelmouse-proxy-image https://thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/Screenshot-2025-05-27-at-7.39.04 AM-e1748349631780-1200x675.png crop_info="%7B%22image%22%3A%20%22https%3A//thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/Screenshot-2025-05-27-at-7.39.04%5Cu202fAM-e1748349631780-1200x675.png%22%7D" expand=1]Life for Robertson was so much more than duck hunting in the swamp. Death for Robertson holds an even bigger promise.