Lets pray together🙏
Heavenly Father, cover Ivanka with Your peace that surpasses all understanding. Guard her heart, her mind, her home, and her family. Send Your angels before her, behind her, and beside her. Let her walk in safety, strength, and courage, knowing that You are her refuge and fortress.
We thank You that she is safe. We thank You that darkness did not prevail. And we ask You to continue protecting President Trump as he stands in Washington carrying the burden of this nation during such a serious time.
The Lord is our light and our salvation. Whom shall we fear?
God protect Ivanka.
God protect President Trump.
God protect the Trump family.
God protect America.
He drives a school bus in Dallas, Texas. But the kids on his route call him something else — Dad.
Every morning before the sun is fully up, Curtis Jenkins pulls his yellow school bus to the curb and waits. Not just to pick up kids. To see them.
For seven years, Curtis noticed things other people missed. The little girl who folded her paper lunch bag perfectly every day but left it on the bus — because there was nothing inside. The boy whose shoes were too small. The kids who got on quiet, eyes down, carrying weight no child should have to carry alone.
So Curtis did something simple. He made his bus a community.
He gave every child a job — a greeter, an assistant, a "police officer" keeping order in the aisles. Every morning he'd call out, "We're going to care about each other and love everybody, right?" And 50 small voices would answer back.
But it didn't stop there.
Over the years, Curtis spent thousands of dollars of his own money — money he saved by skipping his own Christmas gifts with his wife — on birthday cards, bikes, backpacks, turkeys at Thanksgiving, and 70 hand-wrapped Christmas presents. He didn't buy random gifts. He asked each child what they wanted. Then he went and got exactly that.
No donation page. No announcement. No cameras.
When the story finally got out and people questioned how a bus driver could afford it, Curtis just smiled.
"It doesn't take money. It takes discipline."
But here's the part that will stay with you.
When a reporter asked the kids what they loved most about Curtis — not one of them mentioned the gifts.
A fifth grader named Ethan, whose parents had divorced when he was four, looked up and said quietly:
"He's the father that I always wanted. In some ways, I wish my dad could have been like that."
Curtis heard it. Didn't flinch. Just nodded.
"That's the paycheck right there," he said later. "If I can get that, you can keep the money."
He wasn't looking for a medal. He wasn't going viral on purpose. He was just a man who decided, every single morning, that his bus would be the safest place those kids walked into all day.
Sometimes the person who changes a child's life forever isn't a teacher or a coach or a counselor.
Sometimes it's the person behind the wheel of a yellow bus at 7 a.m. — who chose to show up, and chose to care, when nobody was asking him to.
Tag someone who needs to read this today. 💛
"This Army soldier was on my delayed flight home to Mississippi. He had to watch his baby being born through FaceTime. He was crying, and it broke all of our hearts. Everyone stayed quiet so he could be there for the moment, even from far away.
When we heard the baby cry through his phone, the whole crowd started to cheer for him.“
Let’s honor our soldiers and their sacrifices.
He was 17 years old, deaf, and partially blind But when a toddler went missing, this senior dog stayed by her side for 15 hours Through the dark and the cold, he kept her safe — and then led rescuers straight to her ❤ A true guardian angel.
In 1975, Kathy Shelton was 12 years old.
Thomas Alfred Taylor, 41, lured her into a car and brutally raped her.
She was in a coma for 5 days, and her fertility was destroyed.
The pedophile's lawyer accused her of seeking older men, laughed at her in court, and her rapist only got 1 year in jail on a reduced fondling charge.
The lawyers name?
Hillary Clinton
This beaming rescue boy was once lost, now he greets the human who rescued him every single morning with the biggest goofiest grin in the world. Pure sunshine
There are almost 10,000 likes on this post and 1,000 shares and hundreds of comments on how amazing it is that Chandler did this
And it’s one of like a dozen on the page just about him and his supposed political and religious beliefs. It really is unfair to him
In 1933, in Paris, a baby girl was born into a loving Jewish family. Her name was Francine. At the time, there was nothing to suggest that her childhood would be devoured by history.
Seven years later, the world she knew vanished.
In 1940, her father, Robert, was captured by the Germans and sent to a prisoner-of-war camp in Austria. From behind barbed wire and watchtowers, he found a way to send a message home. It wasn’t sentimental. It wasn’t long.
It was urgent.
Run. Leave immediately. Don’t wait.
Francine’s mother, Marcelle, listened. In the summer of 1942, she took her nine-year-old daughter by the hand and fled toward the border, hoping speed might save them. It didn’t.
They were arrested.
Because Robert was a French POW, mother and child were spared immediate deportation. Instead, they were labeled “hostages”—a word that sounded almost merciful until you learned what it meant. Over the next two years, they were moved again and again through France’s transit camps: Poitiers. Drancy. Pithiviers. Beaune-la-Rolande. Each stop was colder, hungrier, closer to disappearance.
On May 4, 1944, that fragile protection ended.
They were ordered onto a train bound for Bergen-Belsen.
Each prisoner was allowed one small bag. Marcelle chose carefully. Hidden among the essentials were two pieces of chocolate—a luxury beyond measure, meant for moments when despair or starvation might otherwise win.
Bergen-Belsen was not a place of sudden death. It was worse. It was decay stretched over time. Hunger gnawed constantly. Disease spread unchecked. Corpses were stacked like discarded objects. Hope thinned by the day.
Francine was ten years old.
One day, in the middle of that nightmare, she noticed a woman lying apart from the others. Pregnant. Alone. In labor. So weak she could barely breathe, let alone survive childbirth. Francine reached into her pocket. She felt the chocolate.
It was her last piece. Her mother’s insurance against collapse. Something that might have meant one more day of survival. She hesitated. Then she gave it away. That single act—small, almost invisible—changed everything.
The sugar gave the woman enough strength. Enough energy to endure the pain. A baby girl was born in a place designed to erase life. Against all logic, both mother and child survived.
Weeks later, Allied troops liberated the camp.
Francine lived. Her mother lived. And somehow, unbelievably, they found Robert again. A family scarred beyond repair—but alive.
Time moved forward.
Francine grew up. She became a teacher. Then something more: a witness. She devoted her life to Holocaust education, traveling, speaking, refusing to allow memory to fade into abstraction.
Decades passed.
At a conference many years later, a woman stood up before speaking and said she needed to do something first.
“My name is Yvonne,” she said. “I’m a psychiatrist from Marseille.” She walked toward the audience.
“I’m looking for Francine Christophe.” Francine raised her hand. Yvonne placed something gently into it.
A piece of chocolate.
“I’m the baby,” she said quietly. For a moment, no one spoke. Because everyone understood: this was not coincidence. This was history closing a circle.
Fifty years earlier, a starving child had chosen compassion over self-preservation. That choice had grown into a life—a doctor who now helped others heal. A life that existed because kindness had appeared in the darkest possible place.
Francine Christophe is now in her nineties. She has children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. She still tells her story. Still insists on remembrance.
That piece of chocolate was never just food.
It was proof that the Nazis failed.
They tried to destroy empathy. They didn’t. They tried to erase human worth. They couldn’t. In a camp built to strip people of their souls, a ten-year-old girl proved that love can survive even there.
Some acts of kindness echo for generations.
BOOM 💥
Trump says he's boycotting the halftime show & watching Kid Rock at TPUSA
Hit that (RP) button If you're gonna turn your TV off right as the first half ends or if you're going to boycott the Super Bowl entirely
@NFL@nflcommish
Goodell is tagged, let him hear you 👍