@WendyLovesJesus So cool! I wish I wasn’t in the middle of a move or I’d dig out my grandfathers artifact he brought back as a US Marine from WWII: a bracelet he made from carving out a section of a crashed kamikaze Japanese Zero at Guadalcanal!
@heyphilsummers MGS1 was a page turner for me. It transitioned me into “modern” gaming coming from the NES & SNES. I remember playing the demo in a K-Mart years before it was released and being enthralled by the experience. I have several relics from the franchise but not that one! So cool!
If you claim to support human rights yet can’t bring yourself to show solidarity with those fighting for their liberty in Iran, you’ve revealed yourself. You don’t give a damn about people being oppressed and brutalised so long as it’s being done by the enemies of your enemies.
@MattWalshBlog Most people don’t realize how woke Kentucky has become. It’s been festering since the 90’s and is just now becoming a very concerning problem.
@WendyLovesJesus Amen! 2025 was a hard year for me and I’m looking forward to dedicating more time to scripture, above all. Hope you are having a very merry Christmas!
In 1977, Bing Crosby and David Bowie delivered one of the most beautiful duets of all time. It was Crosby’s final Christmas special.
Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy.
The day before my ex-husband died in a shootout with police, after robbing a bank, he called me to tell me he loved me, and he asked me to look after his mother if anything happened to him.
He didn't tell me about the bank robbery, but I'd left him years prior because he'd become dangerous. He threatened to kill and rob drug mules at the border, and to rob banks for years.
At the time of his death, I was remarried to a former LEO.
My second husband and I tried to help him for years, and failed.
Despite my lack of belief that he would actually rob a bank, I gave my word that I would look after her if she were ever alone.
Throughout our marriage, my first husband kept me away from his mother, Joan, because she was 'crazy'. I spent maybe 10 hours with her over the course of our 16 year marriage. When she talked about Jesus, we left.
At the time of the robbery, almost her entire family was dead, except for a cousin. Joans daughter died a year prior. Her husband was dying in an assisted living home, across town, but inaccessible to her. Now, her son was dead.
She was in assisted living, powerless to visit her husband.
She was a lifelong, Holy Spirit filled Christian.
After the trauma of the bank robbery it took me six months to pull myself together and visit her. I did it only because I promised my ex-husband that I would.
I deeply regret waiting so long.
When I arrived at the home, and saw her, my heart broke again. She was a husk of the woman I'd occasionally visited during my marriage to her son.
Her face was puffy, her eyes red from endless crying. It took her a moment to recognize me and my fear of her hating me for abandoning her son vanished as she grabbed me and held on.
My second husband and I visited once a week for two years. We took her shopping, and for lunch. She'd been a pilot, so we took her to the mall to ride on the slingshot ride, and we took her to visit her dying husband.
When she needed memory care we visited her at the lockdown home.
We were her only visitors for a year at the memory care home.
A month before she died, they prematurely moved her to hospice. Her cousin was her guardian; I had no legal rights as her former daughter in law.
I found out she was in hospice on my weekly visit. They'd moved her to a staging room, where there was no intercom. Then, they forgot to feed her or give her water or medicine.
They literally had to find her, at my demand.
I canceled work for a month, to stay with her. If I left, they didn't feed her, or give her water or morphine.
So I slept in the bed with her. I was an atheist and hated the God I didn't believe in, but I laid there giving her water on a sponge and read the Bible to her 12 hours a day.
I'd fallen in love with her.
It was all for her, but I soon found myself weeping while reading to her. She smiled at me, and just kept asking me to read God's word.
Her cousin came the last week of Joan's life. Cheryl sat quietly in the corner, reading her Bible to herself. Cheryl wanted me to leave. In her eyes I was a heathen. She refused to read the Bible to Joan.
The home wanted me to leave, saying that Joan was 'only hanging on because she felt loved, and I needed to leave so she could let go and die.'
Two days before she passed, in a coma, they finally kicked me out. Covid hit and they only allowed one visitor. Cheryl had legal rights, so I was barred.
Years later I can see the goodness of God in all that suffering. He had me reading the Bible, loving a woman who could give me nothing.
He taught me patience, perseverance, and He showed me His word.
I will love Joan forever. I can't wait to see her in heaven. She was a blessing in so many ways.
This is her on the swing at the mall (she had to sit in my lap for safety reasons), and in my lap at my home.
I think about her every day and feel the extraordinary love of Jesus, every time.
I love you Joan, sweet child of God. Dance. Let heaven rejoice at the blessing you surely brought to heaven.
Charlie Kirk: “Young people aren’t begging for more affirmation—they’re crying out for truth. Stop telling them they’re ‘enough’ when they’re drowning. Show them God’s law, their need for a Savior, and the path to real freedom.”
"When I asked my 11-year-old son to help me unload dirt from our small pickup into his mother’s new garden boxes, his reaction was typical.
“Ummmm… I’m busy right now,” He said.
He was playing Roblock on the family laptop, wearing sweat pants and an old T-shirt, lounging on the sofa, feet on the coffee table.
“No you’re not,” I said.
There was a fight, moaning, excuses... the usual.
Moments later, we were next to a wheelbarrow shoveling dirt. He looked at me with flat eyes, his hood up, shoulders slumped, and said, “Why do we have to do this?”
I thought for a moment, because I’ll admit, it was a valid question. Neither of us were all that into flowers or vegetables, or any of the things that would be grown in those garden boxes. But my wife, Mel, loves gardening.
I thought, and he waited, and finally I said, “When you love someone, you serve them.”
I went on, telling him that I want him to grow up to be the kind of man who serves his family, friends, and community.
“This” I said while gesturing to the dirt, and the garden boxes I built the weekend before, and the wheelbarrow and shovel, and the first of many truckloads of dirt we would unload over the next few weeks, “Is what love looks like.”
He didn’t like my answer. I could see it in the way he reluctantly picked his shovel back up.
We finished unloading the dirt. The next day, while I was at work, and the kids and Mel had the day off because it was between terms, Mel sent me this picture. Mel picked up another load of dirt and before she had a chance to unload it, Tristan voluntarily started working. When she asked him “why,” he shrugged and said, “Because I love you.”
I’d never been prouder of my son.
Credit: Clint Edwards