Maturing is realizing when you wake up randomly at 3am or 4am you’re supposed to pray. Over your home, over your children. Then sit and listen to what God tells you to do next
This clip shows how original versions of TV shows have been shortened via syndication and streaming. But the bigger takeaway is that most people don’t realize it. In an era where books are being banned and original materials are becoming harder to find. This is just a small/fun example of that concept. If we don’t hold on to original copies of books, newspapers, magazines, vinyl, commercial VHS tapes, television recorded VHS tapes, cassette tapes, DVDs, original news broadcasts etc, we will watch history be edited with holes in it where things are missing and presented as though it is the complete picture. Here’s a light example of that concept.
teach your daughters about friends and frenemies
today, a girl pulled off another girl’s wig in front of a group of boys. she has lupus. she had patches of hair, and huge bald spots. the girl who snatched the wig ran. the boys laughed at first, but when they saw her head, they all stopped. i covered her head, and brought her to my office. she held it together until we got there…then she broke down. she kept slapping my desk and saying, “she’s supposed to be my friend. she knew. she knew.” 😔
I didn’t call my husband crying.
I called him angry.
It was 11:47 PM. I was sitting on the kitchen floor, laptop open, staring at an email that said my contract wasn’t being renewed. Just like that. Two years of overtime, weekends, skipped holidays — gone in one paragraph.
When he answered, I didn’t even say hello. “I lost my job.”
Silence. Not the awkward kind. The steady kind.
He said, “Okay. I’m coming home.”
He was on a night shift. I told him not to. I said I didn’t want him to risk it. I said I was fine.
He said, “You’re not.”
Twenty minutes later, I heard the door.
He didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t start giving solutions. Didn’t say, “You’ll find something better.” Didn’t minimize it.
He just sat on the floor with me.
He ordered food because he knew I hadn’t eaten. He closed my laptop because he knew I’d keep rereading the email. He made a list the next morning not of jobs for me but of bills he could cover alone “for as long as it takes.”
The next week, I found out he had quietly moved money from his personal savings into our joint account.
Not because I asked.
Because he anticipated.
Months later, when I apologized for being “a burden,” he looked genuinely confused.
“We’re married,” he said. “There is no yours and mine when things fall apart. There’s just us.”
That’s when I understood something about marriage.
It’s not about who plans the best anniversary or posts the sweetest captions.
It’s about who sits on the kitchen floor with you when your world collapses.
It’s about who absorbs your panic without adding their own.
It’s about who turns “your problem” into “our plan.”
Marriage isn’t loud.
It’s steady.
And when it’s real, you don’t have to beg someone to show up.
They already grabbed their keys.