Donald, I can identify with much of what you've written above. To me, it does not sound hyper-critical, nor do I think you are wallowing in self-pity. I think you are just one of the less-than-five-percent, who are what I call: "plugged in".
Those of us who are "plugged in" notice things. We notice injustice and unfairness...and it bothers us. We notice when we are blessed in some area...and we feel gratitude. We notice when a years-long burden is removed...and we rejoice. We have good working memories, and we are constantly comparing past behaviors to present behaviors, because that what happens when you have a good memory. It is something that one has no control over
The other ( probably) 95% are pod people...zombie-ing their way through life; never seeing cause-and-effect; constantly scammed because they can't remember the last time they were scammed, and not to trust again; and moving on to the next big thing...ping ponging through life, with no understanding how they are being victimized...or how they victimize others. Asleep at the wheel.
My biggest regret in life, is having spent more than two seconds investing time in such folks. If I had it to do over, I would spend most of my life in solitude. Some of these "friends"were bad people...but many were just pod people. I can't really blame them for not being something that they just COULD NOT be. It was partly my fault, for expecting a caliber of behavior from these folks, that was impossible for them. Like being angry at nursery school kids, because they got bored when you played classical music for them. I've been thinking a lot about this lately, because so many people who used to be in my life are dying suddenly. I just found out about someone I was very close to years ago, who died suddenly. I keep wondering....if way back when...I could have peered 40 years into the future, and could have seen all the people who surrounded me back then...line up for a suicide shot...would I have ditched them?
Still fighting it out about my dad's estate. Its not the money that matters to me (and anyway, we've already gotten some of it)...money won't be good that much longer. For the first time in my life I'm on a level playing field with my rotten siblings, and that's too important to me, to give that up...for now. They've all taken the Jonestown jab that killed my dad, so they could go at any time, as well.
Yes, there is little time left, but I have absolute faith that I am protected. I've been snatched from the jaws of death so many times in my life, I'm not worried. I just hate living on Sodom's doorstep ( west of Portland). It's depressing.
Just be careful out there. Things are getting more insane by the day. The Whole World is a Geopolitical Bubble in search of a pin, and the catalyzing event could at this point literally come out of nowhere.
Everything seems to be on a razor's edge. And the Blogosphere is completely insane. People have retreated to entrenched positions from which they simply will not budge.
Currently, I am doing a deep dive on Pearl Harbor. Not only did Roosevelt know about the attack, bu the Japanese had to have known he knew about the attack. But I think it is even deeper than that. The Japanese and Allied commands were working hand in glove to make sure the "surprise attack" was a roaring success. On the morning of December 7th, everything possible was done to keep the navy and army servicemen completely in the dark until the last possible moment.
The Discovery of the Japanese Midget subs at 3:00 in the morning Hawaii time was actually a signal to the insiders at Pearl Harbor that the Japanese Planes were launching and on the way. The B-17's were perfectly timed so that when the radar station picked up planes it was instantly decided they must be the B-17's, even though only 12 or so B-17's were en route and the radar operator reported easily over a hundred discernable aircraft.
And of course the "devastating attack" destroyed 8 antiquated battleships and the defensive air units, which were all parked for them to blow up like sitting ducks- allegedly to protect against sabotage. But the Japanese did not bother to bomb fuel depots or ammo dumps or maintainence facilities despite having a golden opportunity to do so.
People have no idea how deep and broad the "Deep State" really is. This evil has been maturing for over a century and now is about to cut lose.
And nobody seems to care. They go about their utterly frivolous lives.
As for the inlaws and outlaws- I walked away from all that in the early 1990's. Thank goodness my parents woke up. By my brothers, aunts, and uncles had too much proverbial skin in the game. Who wants to give up no-fault worldliness and a cowardly, sinful life? Not many.
But the consequences will be eternal.
I too have no fear of death, though not looking forward to any of the pains which may accompany it. My greatest fear, I think, is I might linger. My greatest nightmare is being relegated to a nursing home. They will probably have the suicide pill by my bedside, as they won't be able to milk my benfits, and give up early.
And needless to say my family will not only not give a crap, but probably enjoy the process, and think that I am finally getting what they feel has been coming to me for my revolt against the institutions.
I suppose, if I wanted to, I could post a two-hundred page sob story. My life of shame started in Kindergarten. I just could not skip. I suppose that came natural to most kids, but I guess I was just born with four left feet. Then came first grade. I was in my own world. I knew everything about Star Trek, Klingons, Vulcans, and Romulans, but utterly nothing about Football or Saturday Night Live. The NFL? What was that. Was that part of the Apollo Space program?
It only went downhill from there. In Second Grade, Sr Marie Adrian had it out for me. According to her, my handwriting was atrocious. No matter how splendid I made my "U's" and "P's" my penmanship got a U, which stood for unsatisfactory. One time I think I actually got an "N"- Needs Improvement. In retrospect, I think I was just being gaslighted. Everybody now thinks I have the greatest cursive in the world. But according to Sr Adrian I could not do anything right. I could not make a round wheel for my pine derby racer or a square stand for a trophy base.
I did learn how to read very quickly. In the third grade the class would be reading a story at he beginning of the reader while I would be reading one of the more complex short stories at the end. When the teacher called on me to read, somebody always had to show me where they were. The teacher thought I was not paying attention, but I knew the story inside and out- I had read it two months before. She was amazed that all my answers were right, even though I never paid attention.
But Sr Adrian convinced my parents I was a basket case, and they took me to see the Psychiatrist. Well, you should have seen the reaction once the class found out about that. I was no longer a classmate. I was an exhibit. And meanwhile, they must have thought whatever I had was contagious or something. I was absolutely shunned. What made matters worse was that our class had an odd number of students, so that when teams were picked I was literally the odd man out. Did not even get to be the last pick.
Sr Adrian cast a long shadow, and when I was in the 4th grade my mother decided to enroll me in the local public school. But the word got around and the students called me a "SPED", an acronym for "Special Education". I got pretty much the same treatment I had at the Catholic School.
In Fifth Grade I was back at Catholic School. I did love science. And in fifth grade I excelled at it. Mrs Bucher had me in the front of the class explaining the Apollo Rockets, Boosters, Stages, Solid versus liquid fuel...
But in the 6th grade it was back to being gaslighted. In my first ever science test, I got the lowest score- a whopping 18 out of 100 possible points. Good grief, the test was four question multiple choice. Even wild guessing should have been good for 25 points. I would recover my grades, but never my reputation. I was still always picked last.
But I did learn a few valuable lessons. The first is that human esteem is as changeable as a Northeast snowstorm, and twice as unpredictable. The second was that I would rather have 1 good friend than 20 fair weather associates. The third was just to do what I wanted to do, and to hell with what anybody else thought, including my parents.
Later in life, my father started to emulate me. He listened to the music I did, and read the books I read. And he escaped the shallow life he had inherited, the Life of Hello Dolly and Oklahoma and Guys and Dolls. The life of Bowling on Tuesday and Bridge on Thursday. I guess America 1.0 was not really it was that it was cracked up to be.
I appreciate you sharing your own experiences, WW. It's nice you don't seem to have developed the kind of persecution complex I have. If there is such a thing, of course. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. Thanks.
Nah, when I look back, I was blessed. God does write straight with crooked lines. If I was sensitive I would have been on the bottom of the Chesapeake years ago. God was just preparing me for the Traditional Catholic Circular Firing Squad.
No, not for a long time. I never really had great basketball skills. I was just a good shooter if I had room to fling it up. Baseball was my sport. Thanks!
I'm sorry, Donald. It is so painful to be tormented by strangers and then ignored by family et. al. One feels, and it's real, that there is NO SAFE PLACE when the monsters come after you. This happened to me during childhood as well. I know "they" tell us, "In actuality no one is thinking about you," but if that is supposed to help, it doesn't. It's obvious that "no one" DOES care about CERTAIN people and their lives, just not ours. So we see the injustice around us and now when we point it out, we're even more disappeared than before. We make them uncomfortable.
I called my father, who I have not seen in 12 years along with the rest of the family, to say Happy Birthday in November. "You didn't know?," he said, "Max is getting married. I'm sure you'll get an invitation." I babysat my nephew for about 4 years, 25 years ago. I loved him so much.
I think that was a problem, because suddenly my brother and his wife decided to move four hours away from me when Max was 4 and his little sister 2. The move wasn't close to anyone's job or other family. The story was my sister-in-law had a friend there. I was heartbroken. My brother and I, who were not close, fell further away from each other. I was, in my mind, disappeared. And my sister-in-law's friend had moved away less than 3 months after they arrived. One night before the move, I woke up crying from a nightmare and said to my husband, "They're taking Max away from me! I'll lose him forever." And I did.
I went to babysit Max and his sister once after they moved. Max was about 5, I guess, and he asked me, "Why don't you have babies?" I said, maybe someday soon, but I don't need them right now, I have you two. Max replied, "We already have a Mommy."
So I flew away, disappeared myself. He was right, he did have a Mommy. And he'd probably heard someone else saying the same thing.
Still no invite to the destination wedding in February. The funny thing about having a painful childhood is how it flows into adulthood. The world and people around you don't change - they all seem to get encoded messages to stay on the same page - but when you do change and try to overcome childhood, they refuse to let you. Donald, you write all these fascinating books, have had more success than most, and yet no family acknowledges it. They don't acknowledge how you recreated yourself and became something other than Cartman. They can't. Just like my family. If they acknowledge any success, kindness, worth, then they'd have to acknowledge that we overcame our pain and they NOTICED US. And they won't. Because they were and are complicit. They get the encoded messages. And If they have us around too much, we might let others know about it.
We seem to be kindred spirits, Cindy. I was moved by your story. I don't know why even close family can be so insensitive and uncaring, but it really seems like it's the norm at this point. You have a kind soul, and I appreciate your support. Thanks.
Thank you for sharing your experiences Don. I could relate to the sentiment of much of what you wrote. People can be real assholes that's for damn sure. I had a somewhat similar experience to you: on sports day in gym class in high school I did the most push-ups out of anyone one year. Of course I didn't make the leaderboard list, since the teachers were a bunch of jock-favoring pillocks...
Regardless though I wanted to tell you that after reading your Billy Shears book last year, I was especially intrigued by Mike Williams' contribution. I'd never heard of him before but since discovering his work on Youtube it's opened my eyes a lot. I do actually think Paul is dead now - Billy Shears is HIM. Have you seen his videos on Youtube? Very interesting stuff...
Sounds like you can definitely relate, Smoke. Yes, Mike was on my show a few years back. He goes by The Sage of Quay online. Very interesting guy. Thanks.
I understand where you're coming from growing up in a Catholic family that just kept reproducing like rabbits because thats what the Church said to do, even if you were dirt poor. My angst began attending that Catholic school. Kids were meaner than hell. So were the nuns, who I couldn't stand. I don't think I liked one of them; they weren't kind, ever. There were times I wanted to run away, commit suicide; absolutely hated my life and living in that house I grew up in with all the abuse. I feel for children today with all the evil and confusing battle of what identity they need to be, instead of learning skills on how to be a better person and become a positive influence on society. Sorry to say, but so many folks shouldn't breed, not everyone is fit to be a mom or dad. If you don't love yourself, you probably won't love your children either, at least thats my philosophy. My parents did what their parents did - have many children because those children helped around the house and raise the babies (cleaning poopy diapers - ICK). That is why I never wanted to be a parent. Was not the kind of life I was looking for. When women's lib came around, I felt grateful for the fact that I didn't feel so alone in what I wanted out of life. And I do not regret my decision to this day either. I remember attending a dance at age 31 and this fella said, You're 31 and never married? This was in 1986. Like I had a disease or something awful. Nope, never married and most times, glad I am not. We all have crosses to carry, Don, in one way or another. As we age, all we can do is to help others who are struggling with issues. We're smart and experienced enough now to see it. Hopefully, we can open a few minds and knock some sense into these kids, or anyone for that matter. Its a very tough world. I work very hard on paying it forwards. God Bless!
I love that parable...because it's so true. Out of the hundreds of seeds I've scattered, I only know of two that sprouted and became healthy plants...but those two are now touching other lives.
Donald, I can identify with much of what you've written above. To me, it does not sound hyper-critical, nor do I think you are wallowing in self-pity. I think you are just one of the less-than-five-percent, who are what I call: "plugged in".
Those of us who are "plugged in" notice things. We notice injustice and unfairness...and it bothers us. We notice when we are blessed in some area...and we feel gratitude. We notice when a years-long burden is removed...and we rejoice. We have good working memories, and we are constantly comparing past behaviors to present behaviors, because that what happens when you have a good memory. It is something that one has no control over
The other ( probably) 95% are pod people...zombie-ing their way through life; never seeing cause-and-effect; constantly scammed because they can't remember the last time they were scammed, and not to trust again; and moving on to the next big thing...ping ponging through life, with no understanding how they are being victimized...or how they victimize others. Asleep at the wheel.
My biggest regret in life, is having spent more than two seconds investing time in such folks. If I had it to do over, I would spend most of my life in solitude. Some of these "friends"were bad people...but many were just pod people. I can't really blame them for not being something that they just COULD NOT be. It was partly my fault, for expecting a caliber of behavior from these folks, that was impossible for them. Like being angry at nursery school kids, because they got bored when you played classical music for them. I've been thinking a lot about this lately, because so many people who used to be in my life are dying suddenly. I just found out about someone I was very close to years ago, who died suddenly. I keep wondering....if way back when...I could have peered 40 years into the future, and could have seen all the people who surrounded me back then...line up for a suicide shot...would I have ditched them?
Very insightful analysis, Kris. You are about as "awake" as can be. Thanks!
It all goes back to the parable of the seeds. Very few fall on good soil.
You have to update me on your attempt to get away from Portland Oregon. Something tells me we do not have much time left.
Still fighting it out about my dad's estate. Its not the money that matters to me (and anyway, we've already gotten some of it)...money won't be good that much longer. For the first time in my life I'm on a level playing field with my rotten siblings, and that's too important to me, to give that up...for now. They've all taken the Jonestown jab that killed my dad, so they could go at any time, as well.
Yes, there is little time left, but I have absolute faith that I am protected. I've been snatched from the jaws of death so many times in my life, I'm not worried. I just hate living on Sodom's doorstep ( west of Portland). It's depressing.
Just be careful out there. Things are getting more insane by the day. The Whole World is a Geopolitical Bubble in search of a pin, and the catalyzing event could at this point literally come out of nowhere.
Everything seems to be on a razor's edge. And the Blogosphere is completely insane. People have retreated to entrenched positions from which they simply will not budge.
Currently, I am doing a deep dive on Pearl Harbor. Not only did Roosevelt know about the attack, bu the Japanese had to have known he knew about the attack. But I think it is even deeper than that. The Japanese and Allied commands were working hand in glove to make sure the "surprise attack" was a roaring success. On the morning of December 7th, everything possible was done to keep the navy and army servicemen completely in the dark until the last possible moment.
The Discovery of the Japanese Midget subs at 3:00 in the morning Hawaii time was actually a signal to the insiders at Pearl Harbor that the Japanese Planes were launching and on the way. The B-17's were perfectly timed so that when the radar station picked up planes it was instantly decided they must be the B-17's, even though only 12 or so B-17's were en route and the radar operator reported easily over a hundred discernable aircraft.
And of course the "devastating attack" destroyed 8 antiquated battleships and the defensive air units, which were all parked for them to blow up like sitting ducks- allegedly to protect against sabotage. But the Japanese did not bother to bomb fuel depots or ammo dumps or maintainence facilities despite having a golden opportunity to do so.
People have no idea how deep and broad the "Deep State" really is. This evil has been maturing for over a century and now is about to cut lose.
And nobody seems to care. They go about their utterly frivolous lives.
As for the inlaws and outlaws- I walked away from all that in the early 1990's. Thank goodness my parents woke up. By my brothers, aunts, and uncles had too much proverbial skin in the game. Who wants to give up no-fault worldliness and a cowardly, sinful life? Not many.
But the consequences will be eternal.
I too have no fear of death, though not looking forward to any of the pains which may accompany it. My greatest fear, I think, is I might linger. My greatest nightmare is being relegated to a nursing home. They will probably have the suicide pill by my bedside, as they won't be able to milk my benfits, and give up early.
And needless to say my family will not only not give a crap, but probably enjoy the process, and think that I am finally getting what they feel has been coming to me for my revolt against the institutions.
Yeah, it does not get much worse than West of Portland, except maybe Vatican City, or Brussels, or Blackfriars Bridge, or Batavia Castle. Take care.
I suppose, if I wanted to, I could post a two-hundred page sob story. My life of shame started in Kindergarten. I just could not skip. I suppose that came natural to most kids, but I guess I was just born with four left feet. Then came first grade. I was in my own world. I knew everything about Star Trek, Klingons, Vulcans, and Romulans, but utterly nothing about Football or Saturday Night Live. The NFL? What was that. Was that part of the Apollo Space program?
It only went downhill from there. In Second Grade, Sr Marie Adrian had it out for me. According to her, my handwriting was atrocious. No matter how splendid I made my "U's" and "P's" my penmanship got a U, which stood for unsatisfactory. One time I think I actually got an "N"- Needs Improvement. In retrospect, I think I was just being gaslighted. Everybody now thinks I have the greatest cursive in the world. But according to Sr Adrian I could not do anything right. I could not make a round wheel for my pine derby racer or a square stand for a trophy base.
I did learn how to read very quickly. In the third grade the class would be reading a story at he beginning of the reader while I would be reading one of the more complex short stories at the end. When the teacher called on me to read, somebody always had to show me where they were. The teacher thought I was not paying attention, but I knew the story inside and out- I had read it two months before. She was amazed that all my answers were right, even though I never paid attention.
But Sr Adrian convinced my parents I was a basket case, and they took me to see the Psychiatrist. Well, you should have seen the reaction once the class found out about that. I was no longer a classmate. I was an exhibit. And meanwhile, they must have thought whatever I had was contagious or something. I was absolutely shunned. What made matters worse was that our class had an odd number of students, so that when teams were picked I was literally the odd man out. Did not even get to be the last pick.
Sr Adrian cast a long shadow, and when I was in the 4th grade my mother decided to enroll me in the local public school. But the word got around and the students called me a "SPED", an acronym for "Special Education". I got pretty much the same treatment I had at the Catholic School.
In Fifth Grade I was back at Catholic School. I did love science. And in fifth grade I excelled at it. Mrs Bucher had me in the front of the class explaining the Apollo Rockets, Boosters, Stages, Solid versus liquid fuel...
But in the 6th grade it was back to being gaslighted. In my first ever science test, I got the lowest score- a whopping 18 out of 100 possible points. Good grief, the test was four question multiple choice. Even wild guessing should have been good for 25 points. I would recover my grades, but never my reputation. I was still always picked last.
But I did learn a few valuable lessons. The first is that human esteem is as changeable as a Northeast snowstorm, and twice as unpredictable. The second was that I would rather have 1 good friend than 20 fair weather associates. The third was just to do what I wanted to do, and to hell with what anybody else thought, including my parents.
Later in life, my father started to emulate me. He listened to the music I did, and read the books I read. And he escaped the shallow life he had inherited, the Life of Hello Dolly and Oklahoma and Guys and Dolls. The life of Bowling on Tuesday and Bridge on Thursday. I guess America 1.0 was not really it was that it was cracked up to be.
I appreciate you sharing your own experiences, WW. It's nice you don't seem to have developed the kind of persecution complex I have. If there is such a thing, of course. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. Thanks.
Nah, when I look back, I was blessed. God does write straight with crooked lines. If I was sensitive I would have been on the bottom of the Chesapeake years ago. God was just preparing me for the Traditional Catholic Circular Firing Squad.
Thanks for your honesty, Don. I don't know many courageous enough to put it out there like you do.
I appreciate that, Rhonda. I'm probably too much of an open book. Thanks!
Yeah, Don calls 'em like he sees them. One reason I follow his posts.
Great post Don. Thanks for sharing. I’m curious how the basketball team did without you as a lead scoring machine?
Thanks, Mike! I have no idea how the Rimrockers did that year. After I found out I wasn't on the team, I had zero interest.
Having those basketball skills do you follow pro basketball?
No, not for a long time. I never really had great basketball skills. I was just a good shooter if I had room to fling it up. Baseball was my sport. Thanks!
The Rim Rockers were 5-12 in the 1963 season. They really could have used Don.
Well, this would have been the 1969-1970 season, Mike. Thanks.
Great find WW.
I'm sorry, Donald. It is so painful to be tormented by strangers and then ignored by family et. al. One feels, and it's real, that there is NO SAFE PLACE when the monsters come after you. This happened to me during childhood as well. I know "they" tell us, "In actuality no one is thinking about you," but if that is supposed to help, it doesn't. It's obvious that "no one" DOES care about CERTAIN people and their lives, just not ours. So we see the injustice around us and now when we point it out, we're even more disappeared than before. We make them uncomfortable.
I called my father, who I have not seen in 12 years along with the rest of the family, to say Happy Birthday in November. "You didn't know?," he said, "Max is getting married. I'm sure you'll get an invitation." I babysat my nephew for about 4 years, 25 years ago. I loved him so much.
I think that was a problem, because suddenly my brother and his wife decided to move four hours away from me when Max was 4 and his little sister 2. The move wasn't close to anyone's job or other family. The story was my sister-in-law had a friend there. I was heartbroken. My brother and I, who were not close, fell further away from each other. I was, in my mind, disappeared. And my sister-in-law's friend had moved away less than 3 months after they arrived. One night before the move, I woke up crying from a nightmare and said to my husband, "They're taking Max away from me! I'll lose him forever." And I did.
I went to babysit Max and his sister once after they moved. Max was about 5, I guess, and he asked me, "Why don't you have babies?" I said, maybe someday soon, but I don't need them right now, I have you two. Max replied, "We already have a Mommy."
So I flew away, disappeared myself. He was right, he did have a Mommy. And he'd probably heard someone else saying the same thing.
Still no invite to the destination wedding in February. The funny thing about having a painful childhood is how it flows into adulthood. The world and people around you don't change - they all seem to get encoded messages to stay on the same page - but when you do change and try to overcome childhood, they refuse to let you. Donald, you write all these fascinating books, have had more success than most, and yet no family acknowledges it. They don't acknowledge how you recreated yourself and became something other than Cartman. They can't. Just like my family. If they acknowledge any success, kindness, worth, then they'd have to acknowledge that we overcame our pain and they NOTICED US. And they won't. Because they were and are complicit. They get the encoded messages. And If they have us around too much, we might let others know about it.
Thank you for the article, God bless.
We seem to be kindred spirits, Cindy. I was moved by your story. I don't know why even close family can be so insensitive and uncaring, but it really seems like it's the norm at this point. You have a kind soul, and I appreciate your support. Thanks.
Thank you for sharing your experiences Don. I could relate to the sentiment of much of what you wrote. People can be real assholes that's for damn sure. I had a somewhat similar experience to you: on sports day in gym class in high school I did the most push-ups out of anyone one year. Of course I didn't make the leaderboard list, since the teachers were a bunch of jock-favoring pillocks...
Regardless though I wanted to tell you that after reading your Billy Shears book last year, I was especially intrigued by Mike Williams' contribution. I'd never heard of him before but since discovering his work on Youtube it's opened my eyes a lot. I do actually think Paul is dead now - Billy Shears is HIM. Have you seen his videos on Youtube? Very interesting stuff...
Sounds like you can definitely relate, Smoke. Yes, Mike was on my show a few years back. He goes by The Sage of Quay online. Very interesting guy. Thanks.
Thanks Don! I'll have to look up that interview 👍
I understand where you're coming from growing up in a Catholic family that just kept reproducing like rabbits because thats what the Church said to do, even if you were dirt poor. My angst began attending that Catholic school. Kids were meaner than hell. So were the nuns, who I couldn't stand. I don't think I liked one of them; they weren't kind, ever. There were times I wanted to run away, commit suicide; absolutely hated my life and living in that house I grew up in with all the abuse. I feel for children today with all the evil and confusing battle of what identity they need to be, instead of learning skills on how to be a better person and become a positive influence on society. Sorry to say, but so many folks shouldn't breed, not everyone is fit to be a mom or dad. If you don't love yourself, you probably won't love your children either, at least thats my philosophy. My parents did what their parents did - have many children because those children helped around the house and raise the babies (cleaning poopy diapers - ICK). That is why I never wanted to be a parent. Was not the kind of life I was looking for. When women's lib came around, I felt grateful for the fact that I didn't feel so alone in what I wanted out of life. And I do not regret my decision to this day either. I remember attending a dance at age 31 and this fella said, You're 31 and never married? This was in 1986. Like I had a disease or something awful. Nope, never married and most times, glad I am not. We all have crosses to carry, Don, in one way or another. As we age, all we can do is to help others who are struggling with issues. We're smart and experienced enough now to see it. Hopefully, we can open a few minds and knock some sense into these kids, or anyone for that matter. Its a very tough world. I work very hard on paying it forwards. God Bless!
Thanks for sharing that, Fran.
I love that parable...because it's so true. Out of the hundreds of seeds I've scattered, I only know of two that sprouted and became healthy plants...but those two are now touching other lives.