Shauna F.

@fabshafra

Joined October 2021

105 Following

3 Followers

35 Posts

fabshafra retweeted

Leem.

@leemthreads

6 days ago

I honestly wasn't prepared for what I found in one of my student's backpacks. I teach after-school tutoring, and one of my students is an 11-year-old girl. She's kind, respectful, always neatly dressed, and every single day her dad is the one who drops her off and picks her up. A few days ago, I accidentally sent a message to our parents' group that said: "Moms, don't forget to pack your kids' snacks and water bottles." A few minutes later, her dad sent me a private message. He wrote:

leemthreads's tweet photo. I honestly wasn't prepared for what I found in one of my student's backpacks. I teach after-school tutoring, and one of my students is an 11-year-old girl. She's kind, respectful, always neatly dressed, and every single day her dad is the one who drops her off and picks her up. A few days ago, I accidentally sent a message to our parents' group that said: "Moms, don't forget to pack your kids' snacks and water bottles." A few minutes later, her dad sent me a private message. He wrote:

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fabshafra retweeted

Tevin Macharia Mukabana

@TevinMacharia

3 months ago

In 2014, Travis Greene wrote Made a Way not from victory, but from fear, uncertainty, and silence. His wife was 21 weeks pregnant when her water broke. Doctors gave their unborn son, David, almost no chance to survive. For two months, it was bed rest, tension, and waiting… caught between hope and heartbreak. But Travis didn’t wait for the miracle to worship. He wrote in past tense: “You made a way.” Not “You will”… but “You made.” That is faith speaking ahead of manifestation. “Standing here, not knowing how we’ll get through this test…” — that was real. No answers. No visible way. “But holding onto faith, You know best…” — that was trust. What shocks man never shocks God. “And when it looks as if we can’t win… You step in.” — that was surrender. Where human strength ends, God begins. “When our backs were against the wall and it looked as if it was over… You made a way.” That is the language of the impossible. And then the testimony: “My son is breathing. My son is living.” When doctors said NO, God said YES. When it looked finished, Heaven whispered: “Not yet.” “Not yet” means God is not done. “Not yet” means the story is still unfolding. Their son was born at 28 weeks… alive. That is why this song carries weight. It is not theory, it is tested faith. Maybe you are in your own “21 weeks” moment — fragile, uncertain, afraid. Hear this: You may not see the way, but that does not mean there isn’t one. 2 Kings 3:17 — “You shall not see wind, neither shall you see rain; yet the valley shall be filled with water.” Don’t know how… but God will do it. #Faith #MadeAWay #TravisGreene #TrustGod #Worship

TevinMacharia's tweet photo. In 2014, Travis Greene wrote Made a Way not from victory, but from fear, uncertainty, and silence.

His wife was 21 weeks pregnant when her water broke. Doctors gave their unborn son, David, almost no chance to survive. For two months, it was bed rest, tension, and waiting… caught between hope and heartbreak.

But Travis didn’t wait for the miracle to worship.

He wrote in past tense: “You made a way.”

Not “You will”… but “You made.”

That is faith speaking ahead of manifestation.

“Standing here, not knowing how we’ll get through this test…” — that was real. No answers. No visible way.

“But holding onto faith, You know best…” — that was trust. What shocks man never shocks God.

“And when it looks as if we can’t win… You step in.” — that was surrender. Where human strength ends, God begins.

“When our backs were against the wall and it looked as if it was over… You made a way.”

That is the language of the impossible.

And then the testimony: “My son is breathing. My son is living.”

When doctors said NO, God said YES.

When it looked finished, Heaven whispered: “Not yet.”

“Not yet” means God is not done. “Not yet” means the story is still unfolding.

Their son was born at 28 weeks… alive.

That is why this song carries weight. It is not theory, it is tested faith.

Maybe you are in your own “21 weeks” moment — fragile, uncertain, afraid.

Hear this: You may not see the way, but that does not mean there isn’t one.

2 Kings 3:17 — “You shall not see wind, neither shall you see rain; yet the valley shall be filled with water.”

Don’t know how… but God will do it.

#Faith #MadeAWay #TravisGreene #TrustGod #Worship

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fabshafra retweeted

Lady B - IYALODE OF X

@mobola_ade

5 months ago

My name is Zainab. I’m 27 years old. An SS. That is, I live with sickle cell disease. My parents are both AS. Oh, they They knew. They were told. They still married. They said God approved it. They said love would be enough. They said faith would cover the consequences. I am the consequence. I was diagnosed before I was two. My childhood memories are not playgrounds or cartoons,they are; hospitals, needles, and adults whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear. In primary school, I missed classes so often that teachers stopped asking why. Some classmates thought I was pretending. Some thought I was cursed. I learned early how to smile while feeling different. By secondary school, the pain episodes became more frequent. I would wake up excited for school and end the day on a hospital bed. I watched my mates grow normally while my life moved in pauses, school, hospital, recovery, repeat. At 15, I lost my younger brother to sickle cell. We were both SS. That day changed me forever. My parents broke down in front of me — crying, apologizing, saying “We followed faith. We didn’t think…” But the damage had already been done. Sometimes I forgive them. Sometimes I resent them deeply. Both feelings live in me. In university, I tried to be normal. I joined sickle cell advocacy groups, volunteered with awareness organizations, spoke at events, encouraged parents to test their genotype. People call me strong. They call me a warrior. What they don’t see is me crying alone at night after another silent pain episode. They don’t see the fear that comes with planning a future in a body that doesn’t always cooperate. And Relationships? That’s another wound. I’ve been loved… briefly. The moment conversations turn serious about marriage, children, commitment….they leave. Some are honest. Some ghost me. Some promise forever and disappear quietly. One man once said he would do anything for me. He talked about taking me abroad, better care, a life without fear. I believed him. For the first time, my heart rested. Then one day, he stopped calling. That heartbreak triggered one of the worst crises I’ve had as an adult. Not because of physical stress but because hope collapsed. Now I’m older. The pain episodes come differently. Less dramatic, but more exhausting. My body recovers slower. My fears are heavier. I ask myself questions my parents never asked each other. I am strong, yes. But I am tired. If you are AS and the person you love is AS, please love your unborn children enough to stop and think. Faith is not a license to ignore knowledge. I am a proof to that I didn’t ask to be a lesson. But if my life can prevent another child from being born into avoidable pain, then my voice matters. That’s why I’m writing this to you. Because people listens to you and this story needs to be heard. I hope that your audience share this till it reaches those who are about to walk by faith and not by sight, Sickle Cell is real!. Adeyinka, keep rescuing lives, I love how you raise awareness and say the truth unapologetically, those who do not like you are probably those who wish they could be you. Have you met you?. Oh,I see you Queen Ade💪🏻

mobola_ade's tweet photo. My name is Zainab. I’m 27 years old. An SS.

That is, I live with sickle cell disease.
My parents are both AS.

Oh, they They knew.
They were told.
They still married.

They said God approved it. They said love would be enough. They said faith would cover the consequences.

I am the consequence.

I was diagnosed before I was two. My childhood memories are not playgrounds or cartoons,they are; hospitals, needles, and adults whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear.

In primary school, I missed classes so often that teachers stopped asking why. Some classmates thought I was pretending. Some thought I was cursed. I learned early how to smile while feeling different.

By secondary school, the pain episodes became more frequent. I would wake up excited for school and end the day on a hospital bed. I watched my mates grow normally while my life moved in pauses, school, hospital, recovery, repeat.

At 15, I lost my younger brother to sickle cell.
We were both SS.

That day changed me forever.

My parents broke down in front of me — crying, apologizing, saying “We followed faith. We didn’t think…”
But the damage had already been done.

Sometimes I forgive them.
Sometimes I resent them deeply.
Both feelings live in me.

In university, I tried to be normal. I joined sickle cell advocacy groups, volunteered with awareness organizations, spoke at events, encouraged parents to test their genotype. People call me strong. They call me a warrior.

What they don’t see is me crying alone at night after another silent pain episode.
They don’t see the fear that comes with planning a future in a body that doesn’t always cooperate.

And Relationships?
That’s another wound.

I’ve been loved… briefly.
The moment conversations turn serious about marriage, children, commitment….they leave. Some are honest. Some ghost me. Some promise forever and disappear quietly.

One man once said he would do anything for me. He talked about taking me abroad, better care, a life without fear. I believed him. For the first time, my heart rested.

Then one day, he stopped calling.

That heartbreak triggered one of the worst crises I’ve had as an adult. Not because of physical stress but because hope collapsed.

Now I’m older. The pain episodes come differently. Less dramatic, but more exhausting. My body recovers slower. My fears are heavier. I ask myself questions my parents never asked each other.

I am strong, yes.
But I am tired.

If you are AS and the person you love is AS, please love your unborn children enough to stop and think. Faith is not a license to ignore knowledge. I am a proof to that

I didn’t ask to be a lesson.
But if my life can prevent another child from being born into avoidable pain, then my voice matters.

That’s why I’m writing this to you. Because people listens to you and this story needs to be heard. I hope that your audience share this till it reaches those who are about to walk by faith and not by sight, Sickle Cell is real!.

Adeyinka, keep rescuing lives, I love how you raise awareness and say the truth unapologetically, those who do not like you are probably those who wish they could be you. Have you met you?. Oh,I see you Queen Ade💪🏻

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fabshafra retweeted

The Husky

@Mr_Husky1

6 months ago

He never wanted children. Not once had he pictured a life marked by small shoes at the door or stories whispered after dark. Then the telegram arrived in 1892. Thomas Brennan stood alone in his rented room in Denver, the thin paper trembling between his fingers. His younger brother was dead. And folded into that loss was a heavier truth: three children were now alone. Eight. Six. Four. No mother. No father. No one else. Thomas was thirty-four. Unmarried. Careful with his days. His life was quiet, ordered, and narrow by design. He had never prepared for this. But preparation means little when a train pulls in carrying three frightened children with tags pinned to their coats and one small bag holding everything they had left. When they stepped onto the platform, something inside him broke open. The early days were brutal. He burned dinners and ruined laundry. The children cried themselves hoarse at night, calling for parents who would never answer. Margaret’s hair tangled no matter how gently he tried. James struck out with his fists, grief turning sharp and dangerous. Little Samuel asked the same question again and again, hope clinging to his voice. “When is Mama coming back?” Thomas never had an answer. One night, he found Samuel asleep inside a closet, knees drawn tight, the door cracked just enough to breathe. “I’m safer here,” the boy whispered. So Thomas sat on the floor beside that closet until morning. He talked about their father. About kindness. About bravery. He stayed because leaving no longer existed as a choice. And without realizing when it happened, he began to learn. He learned which child needed silence and which needed arms. How to pack lunches just so. How to soothe night terrors, stitch torn sleeves, and stand still while grief washed through small bodies. He learned to hum songs he barely remembered. To wait up late. To walk them to school even when his legs ached. Somewhere along the way, he stopped being a man who took children in. He became their home. Time did what time always does. Margaret grew into a woman with steady resolve and a gentle voice, becoming a teacher. James turned his love of stones and soil into a geology shop of his own. Samuel, once the boy who hid in closets, found the courage to serve in the Army. At every graduation, every ceremony, every quiet triumph, Thomas sat in the back. Hands folded. Eyes wet. He never asked for recognition. Never expected gratitude. He never married. Never had children of his own. But he was never alone again. One evening, long after the children were grown, Margaret reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “You gave us a life when ours ended,” she said. And Thomas finally understood. Family is not always planned. Sometimes it is answered. Sometimes it is learned through scorched meals and sleepless nights. Sometimes it is chosen, again and again, until love settles in and refuses to leave. He never wanted children. But he became a father anyway. And it changed everything. A father’s love isn’t always planned, but it always transforms everything.

Mr_Husky1's tweet photo. He never wanted children. Not once had he pictured a life marked by small shoes at the door or stories whispered after dark.

Then the telegram arrived in 1892.

Thomas Brennan stood alone in his rented room in Denver, the thin paper trembling between his fingers. His younger brother was dead. And folded into that loss was a heavier truth: three children were now alone. Eight. Six. Four. No mother. No father. No one else.

Thomas was thirty-four. Unmarried. Careful with his days. His life was quiet, ordered, and narrow by design. He had never prepared for this. But preparation means little when a train pulls in carrying three frightened children with tags pinned to their coats and one small bag holding everything they had left.

When they stepped onto the platform, something inside him broke open.

The early days were brutal. He burned dinners and ruined laundry. The children cried themselves hoarse at night, calling for parents who would never answer. Margaret’s hair tangled no matter how gently he tried. James struck out with his fists, grief turning sharp and dangerous. Little Samuel asked the same question again and again, hope clinging to his voice.

“When is Mama coming back?”

Thomas never had an answer.

One night, he found Samuel asleep inside a closet, knees drawn tight, the door cracked just enough to breathe.

“I’m safer here,” the boy whispered.

So Thomas sat on the floor beside that closet until morning. He talked about their father. About kindness. About bravery. He stayed because leaving no longer existed as a choice.

And without realizing when it happened, he began to learn.

He learned which child needed silence and which needed arms. How to pack lunches just so. How to soothe night terrors, stitch torn sleeves, and stand still while grief washed through small bodies. He learned to hum songs he barely remembered. To wait up late. To walk them to school even when his legs ached.

Somewhere along the way, he stopped being a man who took children in.

He became their home.

Time did what time always does. Margaret grew into a woman with steady resolve and a gentle voice, becoming a teacher. James turned his love of stones and soil into a geology shop of his own. Samuel, once the boy who hid in closets, found the courage to serve in the Army.

At every graduation, every ceremony, every quiet triumph, Thomas sat in the back. Hands folded. Eyes wet. He never asked for recognition. Never expected gratitude.

He never married. Never had children of his own.

But he was never alone again.

One evening, long after the children were grown, Margaret reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

“You gave us a life when ours ended,” she said.

And Thomas finally understood.

Family is not always planned.
Sometimes it is answered.
Sometimes it is learned through scorched meals and sleepless nights.
Sometimes it is chosen, again and again, until love settles in and refuses to leave.

He never wanted children.

But he became a father anyway.

And it changed everything.

A father’s love isn’t always planned, but it always transforms everything.

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Who to follow

✨️Kgn ¹人³ Yute✨️

@fiahkris

On the outside looking 👀in

Judeen Angus 🇯🇲

@jjcurvaceous1

Follow this baddie ig. @jj.curvaceous Follow me on youtube useful content https://t.co/A6TrLO4YMx

Tashoya S

@butterstreete

Alive & Well 🙂 https://t.co/Dv8PxYbTqy

fabshafra retweeted

Rod @rodimusprime

over 1 year ago

Got me rooting for the white man in Black History Month

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fabshafra retweeted

Kerry-Ann Morgan

@patrioticjam

almost 2 years ago

My colleague said last night she thanked some @myJPSonline men for the work they are doing and enquired if she'd get back electricity. They said they were working hard to and they were going home to darkness as their electricity hadn't been restored as yet. She was touched 🥲

fabshafra retweeted

Jamaica Observer

@JamaicaObserver

about 2 years ago

Hundreds of students, staff and alumni of the Wolmer’s Trust Group of Schools turned out Tuesday to celebrate the 295th anniversary of the institution, the oldest school in the Caribbean. https://t.co/NHmcT9veYN

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fabshafra retweeted

GOTHICC @frankenfemme_

over 2 years ago

I’m obsessed with this TikTok. This is for anyone that feels like they want to quit. DON’T!

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fabshafra retweeted

star 💫

@stxrinsky

over 2 years ago

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Shauna F. @fabshafra

over 2 years ago

@deaniedeanz Most of it is your height, right?

Shauna F. @fabshafra

over 2 years ago

@Shanzi_a Happy Anniversary! I admire your relationship with your husband. May God bless and keep you both!

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fabshafra retweeted

CALL TO ACTIVISM

@CalltoActivism

almost 3 years ago

“Today, the man wearing red got on the subway, he opened his folder and started reading. 🧐 A few stops later a man got on and asked him “what are you studying for? You look confused, maybe I can help?” He said my son just failed a math test, and I am re-studying fractions so I can teach him. I am 42 years old and I don’t remember any of this, so I am reteaching myself. The guy in the black informed him that he use to be a math teacher, and would help quiz him. Everything the man in the red got wrong, it was broken down and corrected for him. By the end of the train ride, the man had a better understanding. He had a new method to come home with to teach his son. It’s the little things like this that I love seeing, because most people could care less about what the person next to them is going through. ❤️❤️❤️”

$CalltoActivism's tweet photo. “Today, the man wearing red got on the subway, he opened his folder and started reading. 🧐 A few stops later a man got on and asked him “what are you studying for? You look confused, maybe I can help?” He said my son just failed a math test, and I am re-studying fractions so I can teach him. I am 42 years old and I don’t remember any of this, so I am reteaching myself. The guy in the black informed him that he use to be a math teacher, and would help quiz him. Everything the man in the red got wrong, it was broken down and corrected for him. By the end of the train ride, the man had a better understanding. He had a new method to come home with to teach his son. It’s the little things like this that I love seeing, because most people could care less about what the person next to them is going through. ❤️❤️❤️”$

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Shauna F. @fabshafra

over 3 years ago

@AbkaFitzHenley Which Road is that?

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fabshafra retweeted

Tech Burrito @TechBurritoUno

over 3 years ago

Mesh drains in Australia prevent water bodies pollution...Should be a worldwide standard.

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Shauna F. @fabshafra

over 3 years ago

@ncbja No, I didn't have a scheduled appointment. I have tried that before and I got there 30 minutes before the appointment time, as recommended, and I still had to wait over and hour before I was attended to. So either way, there is a shortfall.

Shauna F. @fabshafra

over 3 years ago

I have been waiting at the bank to see an @ncbja customer service representative for 3 and 1/2 hours now, and I was just told that there are still 10 numbers before mine! Help!!!

fabshafra retweeted

Graham Stephan

@GrahamStephan

over 3 years ago

Passive income hack #234

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fabshafra retweeted

Insha | 📍Network school

@Insharamin

almost 4 years ago

Are you looking for a Remote job? Here you go 🚀👇🏻 → remoteok .com →showwcase .com → freelancer .com → remotive .io → remoteglobal .com → devsnap .io →working nomads .co → nodes .co →epic jobs .co → remotehunt .com → weworkremotely .com →flexjobs .com

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