Olivia
Online
Joy Turner
@Charist0106
Follower of Jesus. English.
🇧🇻✨️ 🏴 🇬🇧 ✨️🇮🇱
Kristiansand, Norway
Joined November 2015
874 Following
95 Followers
1.1K Posts
A quick one for journalists who have been following my posts.
If you want to talk about what happens when you complain about the NHS, please message me.
I’ve been doing this for years and I have kept everything.
The emails.
The letters.
The complaints.
The responses.
The timelines.
I’ve gone through the proper channels. I’ve chased. I’ve asked questions. I’ve challenged answers when they didn’t make sense.
And I think there are some very important questions about the complaints process that need to be asked.
If you’re a journalist and want to talk, DM me. ❤️
If @EdSheeran had a warm-up act that did blackface he would be gone before he sang or rapped a note.
So why have he and @LiveNation not yet dropped Macklemore, who does “Jew”face and has stunk up Ed’s tour with his divisive and hateful politics.
Dump him now!
For the last 9-months, my wife, Brooklyn has been pregnant with a very sick baby boy. Three or four months ago, we learned that the baby had severe hydrocephalus. Back in the old days, hydrocephalus was called, 'water on the brain' - too much brain fluid. Ultimately, we were referred to Cincinnati Children's Hospital, where we were told by several of the most highly regarded fetal specialists in the country that his condition was dire. The baby's condition was 'off the charts bad'. It was so extreme that the specialists stopped measuring and monitoring his fluid level because, at that point, it didn't really matter. The MRI's were sickening to look at.
We were told, pointblank, that there was over a 90% chance that the baby would either die shortly after birth or have such severe cognitive impairments that any quality of life would be hard to imagine. We had a meeting with palliative care regarding the use of life sustaining measures and had detailed, awful, and emotional discussions about the ethics of when we might need to remove or cease such measures - which would result in the baby 'passing away peacefully'.
Brooklyn relocated to Cincinnati and lived in a hotel close to the hospital - in case she went into labor. I commuted back and forth. On July 8th, Brooklyn did indeed go into labor. Literally, 15 minutes before they wheeled her back to start the C-section, we had another meeting with doctors regarding the use of a breathing tube and at what point we might need to remove that tube and let the baby go to Heaven. Guess what? The baby came out crying - which was the sweetest sound I ever heard.
In a nutshell, Charlie Schnarr stayed in infant intensive care until yesterday - when we all came home. He seems to be a normal, beautiful baby doing all the things that babies do. He has mild ventricular enlargement, but we can deal with that with checkups.
How did this happen?!
The doctors said, 'We do not have and cannot come up with a medical explanation for what we've witnessed here'. Somehow his brain found a way to naturally clear the blockage or re-route the fluid that was causing the oppressive back up of brain fluid. During the last week, I heard the words, 'divine intervention' and 'miracle' more times than I could count. Nurses with decades of experience and esteemed, nationally admired doctors were flabbergasted but jubilant. Because of the domino effect of friends, family, clients, colleagues and even strangers praying and asking others to pray for us, I do not doubt that there were thousands of people praying for us.
I'm a practical person that certainly believes in science and medical technology, but I absolutely know, from the bottom of my heart, that God was involved in this. I give ALL of the credit and glory to Him. Prayer is positively powerful. God is real, and He still performs miracles."
📷: Nick Schnarr
He was 32 years old, on a business trip, with a pregnant wife and two little boys waiting for him at home.
On September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer boarded United Flight 93, headed from Newark to San Francisco. He was supposed to come home to his family. Instead, he became part of a group of ordinary Americans who made an extraordinary decision.
After hijackers took control of the plane, Todd reached a telephone operator on the ground. He told her what was happening, asked her to pray with him, and learned that other planes had already struck the World Trade Center.
The passengers understood that their plane was likely being used as another weapon. They had a choice: remain in their seats and hope for the best, or fight back.
They chose to fight.
Todd and the other passengers and crew members organized an effort to retake the cockpit. At the end of his call, the operator heard him say:
“Are you guys ready? Okay. Let’s roll.”
Minutes later, Flight 93 crashed into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. All 40 passengers and crew members were killed, but the hijackers never reached their intended target.
Todd Beamer never made it home. Neither did the other 39 innocent people aboard that plane. But their courage helped prevent another attack on American soil.
They were not soldiers. They were people going to work, visiting family, and living ordinary lives.
And when the moment came, they fought back.
(An update on the family Todd left behind is in the comments) 🐝
Who to follow
“THIS ISN’T YOUR KIND OF PLACE.”
That’s what a security guard told me after recognising me while I was interviewing people at 'Black in the Square'.
A public event described as: 'An annual free festival held in Trafalgar Square, London, that celebrates Black culture and creativity.
I had simply walked into the event and started asking questions about what it was about and why London taxpayers were funding it.
Suddenly, I’m being told I shouldn’t be there.
Why? Because I'm a white man? A British patriot?
I’m an Englishman. I have every right to walk into a public event and ask questions.
I was assaulted along with my cameraman, they tried to steel our equipment, threatened us multiple times and called me a racist.
This is Britain in 2026.
A racialised event tells an Englishman that he’s not welcome at an event in his own country.
The more we are demographically replaced, the more this is going to happen. Racism towards white men is an endemic in Britain.
@MayorofLondon - you are an evil traitor.
.@edsheeran I brought my wife and two daughters to MetLife Friday because we are huge fans of yours. We arrived early, I spent $180 on two sweatshirts for them, watched the first two opening acts and were having a great time.
Then Macklemore decided to turn your concert into his political rally.
When he started chanting “Free Palestine” and pushing his clearly uneducated version of the Israel/Gaza conflict, my daughters looked at me completely confused. I had brought them to an Ed Sheeran concert, not to have an opening act lecture them about Middle East politics.
After Friday night, I started looking into Macklemore’s history. What I found, including his repeated use of antisemitic tropes, made the whole thing even worse.
So I took my family and walked inside alongside hundreds of your other fans. As we were walking in, even the MetLife security guards were rolling their eyes at what was happening on stage.
We waited until Macklemore was finished before returning to our seats. Then we watched your show, which was phenomenal.
I left Friday hoping maybe this had caught you and your team off guard.
Then tonight you allowed it to happen again.
You knew exactly what Macklemore had done the night before, and you gave him the stage again.
Friday might have been Macklemore’s decision. Saturday was yours.
You have a lot of Jewish fans who love your music, buy your albums and merchandise, and bring their kids to your concerts.
Tonight, you lost four of them. And I suspect plenty more.
@CombatASemitism
@StopAntisemites
This Humble Elevator Technician Ran Two Miles Into The World Trade Center To Save Hundreds Trapped In Stalled Elevators.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, 46-year-old elevator mechanic Charles "Chuck" Costello Jr. was working at a hotel in SoHo, twenty blocks north of the World Trade Center. It was a rare day for the New Jersey father of four to be working in Manhattan, but as a Boeing 767 slammed into the North Tower and hundreds of thousands of people began fleeing Lower Manhattan in terror, Costello did the unthinkable: he jumped out of his work site and ran over two miles straight toward the burning towers. When his coworker desperately urged him to stay back, the humble Navy veteran and devout Christian simply replied, "I'll be fine. Just keep your cellphone on," before disappearing into the thick smoke.
Inside the burning complex, stalled elevators had become horrific death traps, locking hundreds of panicked occupants inside pitch-black shafts filled with jet fuel smoke. While official contractors withdrew their crews from the chaos, Costello voluntarily charged into 1 World Trade Center to offer his technical expertise. Working alongside firefighters and police officers, who quickly came to know him as "the elevator man", he used his specialized tools and knowledge to override controls and manually force open jammed doors, freeing trapped workers line after line. After extricating countless people from the North Tower, he refused to seek safety for himself and instead ran directly into 2 World Trade Center to perform the exact same life-saving operation.
Costello’s tireless efforts saved hundreds of lives before the towers collapsed, but his refusal to abandon those trapped inside came at the ultimate price. On January 5, 2002, search and rescue crews finally recovered his remains deep beneath the rubble in a South Tower elevator shaft, resting side-by-side with a firefighter and a police officer. In his pocket were his driver’s license, union card, and rosary. Today, his son carries on his legacy as both an elevator mechanic and a volunteer firefighter. While the world remembers the overwhelming tragedy of that morning, Chuck Costello’s quiet, self-sacrificing courage stands as a testament to the highest order of human love, serving as a poignant reminder of how easily extraordinary human stories can be overlooked.
Look closer.
This is what “change” looks like inside your brain:
1. Stop rehearsing disaster.
In "The Lord of the Rings", Christ is everywhere at once and nowhere in particular.
In "Game of Thrones", Christ is crucified in every episode in different ways.
In "The Chronicles of Narnia", Christ is a lion.
In "The Pendragon Cycle", Christ is named and worshipped as a real historical person who saves, redeems, and transforms.
Whether you consider this a "Christian" series or not, I can't think of anything quite like it. Congrats to @JeremyDBoreing and team for making it happen on a grand scale, and bringing the message to the masses.
This is very personal for me to share.
My biological mother was a stripper working at a club in downtown Seattle. My biological father was one of her clients. She became pregnant with me while struggling with addiction and used drugs throughout her pregnancy. When I was born, I was immediately taken to the ICU to detox and was eventually placed for adoption.
By God’s grace, I was adopted by two wonderful parents who loved me deeply. I was four months old when they picked me up from the orphanage, and they are the only parents I’ve ever known. I never grew up feeling like something was missing. I never felt some deep longing to find my biological parents. I had a mom and dad who loved me, cared for me, sacrificed for me, and gave me a wonderful home.
Years later, after I got married and we had our first child, my wife encouraged me to learn more about my biological history. If for no other reason, she thought it might be good for the sake of our daughter to know whether there was anything medically or genetically significant in my family history.
So I eventually submitted my DNA to Ancestry. Through that, I discovered a half brother, aunts, cousins, and eventually was put in contact with my biological mother.
We were able to meet.
And when I met her, I got to tell her something I’d wanted to tell her for as long as I could remember: thank you.
Thank you for giving me life.
I got to tell her about the wonderful parents who adopted me. I got to tell her that I’d had a good life. I got to tell her about my wife and my children. I wanted her to know that the baby she carried in the middle of all that chaos became a man with a family, a calling, people he loves, people who love him, and a life for which he is profoundly grateful.
I’ve never been angry with her. Never. Not once.
For years I told my wife and children that if my biological mother ever found me, I knew exactly what I would say. I wouldn’t condemn her. I wouldn’t demand explanations. I’d simply thank her for allowing me to live.
Because without that decision, I wouldn’t have the extraordinary wife I have today. I wouldn’t know the indescribable joy of my children. I wouldn’t have experienced the friendships, ministry, laughter, sorrow, beauty, failures, victories, and ordinary moments that have made up my life. There are people I love who wouldn’t know me, children who wouldn’t exist, and a story that never would’ve been written.
She gave me the chance to live it.
We still stay in contact. We speak every few months, and I genuinely enjoy hearing her stories and learning about her life. Since the day I met her, I’ve prayed that the Lord would bring her to Himself. I still pray that.
I share all of this because lately I’ve been thinking a great deal about the choices parents make. About life and death. About how much hangs in the balance of decisions made in moments of fear, desperation, darkness, or confusion.
And yes, I’ve been thinking about those three little children whose lives were taken by the very person entrusted with protecting them. It’s difficult for me not to think about my own story alongside theirs. Their lives mattered. Their futures mattered. Everything they might’ve become, everyone they might’ve loved, every ordinary Tuesday morning and Christmas morning and wedding and child and friendship that might’ve filled the decades ahead of them mattered.
And it makes me profoundly grateful that my mother chose differently.
So if there’s a mother or father reading this who’s in a dark place and wondering whether your presence matters, whether your decisions matter, or whether the people who depend on you would somehow be better off without you, please hear me: your choices matter more than you can see from where you’re standing.
Choose life.
Don’t make an irreversible decision in the middle of a season that will pass. Don’t allow a moment of darkness to make a permanent decision about a future you can’t yet see.
Trust the Lord. Ask for help.
Jewish women being carried out of concentration camps after the end of WWII.
Never Forget.
🚨ALARMING: This is what assisted suicide Bill supporters think!
Last year, Baroness Hayter suggested people have an "absolute right" to end their life through suicide. Former Chief Coroner Thomas Teague reminded her: we try to prevent suicide because we DON’T condone it.
Now this is a BLM I can get behind.
September 5, 1972.
11 members of Israel’s Olympic delegation went to Munich to represent their country. They never came home.
They were murdered by Black September, a Palestinian terrorist organization linked to the PLO.
54 years later, we remember them - and remain unwavering in our fight against terrorism. 🕯️🇮🇱
When 740 children died at sea and every country said "no," one man—who had reason to remain silent—said "yes."
The year was 1942.
The ship drifted in the Arabian Sea, like a floating coffin. There were 740 Polish children on board. Orphans. Survivors of Soviet labor camps, where their parents had died of the flu or starvation. They had escaped through Iran, but a more terrible punishment awaited them.
No one would accept them.
The British Empire—the most powerful power of its time—refused entry to port after port along the Indian coast. "It's not our responsibility. Sail away."
Almost finished with food. No medicine. Time was running out.
Twelve-year-old Maria held her six-year-old brother's hand. She had promised her dying mother to protect him. But how do you protect someone when the whole world turns on them?
And then news came to the small palace in Gujarat.
The ruler was Jam Sahib Digvijay Singhji, Maharaja of Navanagar. In the royal system, he was just a minor prince. The British controlled the ports, trade, and army. He had every reason to obey and remain silent.
When his advisors told him that 740 children were stranded at sea after the British refused to take them to any port in India, he asked one question:
"How many children are there?"
"Seven hundred and forty, Your Majesty."
He paused and calmly said:
"The British may control my ports. But they do not control my conscience. These children are docked at Navanagarh."
The advisors warned him:
"If you challenge the British—"
"So I will stop. "
He sent a message to the ship: You are welcome here.
When British officials protested, the Emperor remained firm.
"If the strong refuse to save the children," he said.
I, the weak, will do what you cannot.
In August 1942, the ship struggled to enter Navanagara harbor under the blazing summer sun.
The children walked like ghosts—exhausted, blank-eyed, many too weak to walk. They had learned to hope for good. Hope had turned dangerous.
The Maharaja was waiting for them on the dock.
Dressed simply in white, he knelt down to be at their eye level. Through interpreters, he spoke words they had not heard since their parents died.
"You are no longer orphans.
You are my children now.
I am your Bapu—your father."
Maria felt her brother's handshake. After months of rejection, these words seemed surreal.
But he was serious.
He didn't build a refugee camp.
He built a home.
In Balachadi, he created something amazing—a little Poland in India. Polish teachers who understand trauma. Polish food flavored with memory. Polish songs in an Indian garden. A Christmas tree under a tropical sky.
“Suffering tries to erase you,” he said. “But your language, culture, and traditions are sacred. Let's keep them here.” "
Children who were told they had no place in the world finally found a home.
They laughed again. They played again. They returned to school. Maria watched her brother chase a peacock in the palace garden, and her body remembered again what safety meant.
The Emperor used to visit them often. He remembered names. He celebrated birthdays. He watched high school plays. He comforted children crying for parents who would never return. He paid for doctors, teachers, clothing, and food—from his own wealth.
For four years, while the world was torn by war, 740 children lived not as refugees, but as a family.
When the war ended and it was time to leave, many wept. Balachadi became the only home they had ever truly known.
These children have grown and moved around the world—becoming doctors, teachers, engineers, parents, grandparents. And they have never forgotten.
Warsaw's Good Emperor Square appeared in Poland. Schools bear his name. He was awarded Poland's highest honor.
But the original monument wasn't made of stone.
It cost 740 lives.
Today, at 80 years old, they still gather. They tell their grandchildren about an Indian king who refused to turn compassion into political calculation.
@LizaRosen0000 @CBNNews @HatikvahFilms As a British man we apologise for our Marxist Socialist Jew hating government
The Labour party who deny the Pakistani Muslims Rape Gangs
The Labour government that has submitted to Islam
@JennMGreenberg @IAmJeffMcCulley I don't think he was condescending. His post looked carefully written.
We are experiencing such pain in this awful crime and its aftermath that it's difficult to talk to each other well.
@JennMGreenberg Pray. It's literally the only thing that will help. Only God is truly Just as well as compassionate. Only God can help us move forward through the insane messes we have gotten ourselves in.
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