It’s OK To Be Different

She wouldn’t budge. She stood her ground. It seemed like people wanted her to change for them. They stared at her clothes, laughed at her hair. Made fun of her talk. She had very little friends, but she didn’t care. She was who she was, and she wasn’t changing for anyone. She sang in the choir, her voice sounding above all others. She sang from her heart, while others fidgeted with their song books, or looked around, some snickering at unspoken jokes. She sat alone in the cafeteria. She didn’t care. She was motivated, making above average grades. Some called her a genius. She had her plans made and her college entrance papers were already accepted. She knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. She had spent numerous days sitting under the dogwood trees scribbling notes and writing letters to herself, setting deadlines. She was strong-willed and had an attitude that few understood.She watched people observing their moves, how they dressed. She listened when they were near, picking up on their interests and desires in life. She jotted notes. She carried her journal with her everywhere she went. I heard about her in the papers a few times after high school was over. She was still making a statement today. Several years later, I read that she was running for president. I hope she gets it! She is different, she is weird, she is a genius. She is strong. She is just what this country needs.

Is This Your Child?

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An untimely and meloncholy loss of life - geog...

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He was only a child. Lying spread out on the street where he lay in a pool of blood. His home life had been less than perfect. No church foundation, no guidance at home. He looked for self-worth in his friends. He grew up in the streets, learning the way to fit in was to act tough. He went out  through the night and went  into the streets where  his friends were waiting. This is one of the toughest gangs known to the city. People crossed to the other side when they saw them. More and more guns were carried by the good and the bad. Drugs were forcing long time home owners to sell their homes and move elsewhere. Women were standing on street corners trying earn a living. Men in expensive clothes were strolling the streets. Tonight, the streets were full of noise. People whispering, sirens sounding. Police directing traffic. In the distance you can hear the EMS coming.  A sadness comes over me as I realize this is a reality in life. This is no longer a murder mystery book that we are reading. This is happening in our own back yard now, today. You can no longer say that this happens only in the bigger cities. As I look at this young man lying there lifeless, and realize that this life is over. One of God’s children was called home early. It unwillingly causes tears to form on my cheeks. We have to go back. We have to check our list of priorities in our lives. The only way is God’s way. This is our purpose here on earth. To love, and honor our glorious God. By doing this, we will place God as our number one in our lives, with family in second place. As a story writer, this has been the most difficult story for me to write. I ask God, now at this moment, to help me to be a better person. To help me to have more understanding, and to carry a compassionate heart. I pray that we protect our children, that we listen to them, and help nurture them in our lives. I don’t want to see another young man lying in the street surrounded by a pool of blood.