Watch what happens...

 

At times we allow pessimism and doubt
to control the narrative, almost as if we are creating
a safety blanket, that, should the worst happen,
we are already prepared.
The problem with that, is we are subconsciously already 

attracting a darker outcome than that which
is really desired.
Dare to look on the bright side and allow the light in.
Love yourself sufficiently to feel deserving of good 

outcomes and happy endings.

You are what you seek.
Look for the light and expect to find it,
And watch what happens ..

~ C.E. Coombes
Art by Amye

Source: Serendipity Corner on Facebook

One time I met a woman

 

One time I met a woman

With a basket on her arm

A basket filled with patches

And with fabric, thread and yarn

I wondered why she had it all

And so I walked a while

Watching as she greeted

Other people with a smile

I saw her greet a woman

Hanging on by just a thread

And a girl who was unravelling

With each and every step

I watched her as she stitched together

Parts all torn and frayed

And as she tied their loose ends

With the fabric she had made

And then I watched a man

Who told her that he couldn’t cope

He spoke about the heartache

That had snatched away his hope

She listened to him calmly

As she measured out her thread

And then she gently held his arm

And carefully she said

“I’ll hold you for a moment

And I’ll treat your heart with care

And it will feel different,

But perhaps less empty there”

But as I stood and watched her

As she patched his broken heart

I noticed that her dress

Was quietly coming apart

I realised that the hat she wore

Had six or seven holes

And the boots she wore upon her feet

Had barely any soles

The tights she wore beneath her dress

Were laddered and threadbare

And the jacket round her shoulders

Was in need of great repair

And now I saw it clearly:

That she spent her every day

Fixing other people

Making sure they were okay

Patching up and sewing

So that they could feel stronger

When they just couldn’t keep themselves

Together any longer

But she too needed love and care

And she too needed help

Yet she was spending all her time

On everybody else

On making sure that they were fine

To chase their hopes and dreams

Whilst she slowly, without knowing

Came apart

right

at

the

s e a m s

*****

Becky Hemsley 2024

Lovely artwork by Mariajesus Palacios

This poem is in my latest collection Words to Remember on Amazon.

Source: Becky Hemsley Poetry on Facebook

I did.

There I am, watching him. He sits on the steps of the Shell Station. A backpack beside him. His skin is rawhide. His beard is white.

His name is Buck. He’s from North Carolina. He says he completed two tours in Vietnam.

He’s not here begging, he’s resting his feet.

“My old feet hurt more’n they used to,” says Buck. “Hard getting old, buddy.”

There is a half-smoked cigar next to him. He dug this used cigar from an ashtray. It still has life in it, he says.

He’s sipping coffee.

“First cup’a joe I had in a week. Fella gave me a quarter a few minutes ago. Piled my coins together to buy me a cup.”

A quarter.

When Buck went inside to buy it, there were only cold dregs left in the pot. He asked the cashier if it were possible to brew a fresh pot. She told him to get lost.

“But I’m paying for it,” he insisted.

She escorted him to the door.

So, he’s drinking dregs for which he paid full price—for which he is grateful.

There are holes in his shoes. He found these sneakers in a sporting-good-store dumpster. Buck estimates he’s put nearly eight hundred miles on them. Who knows if he’s exaggerating or not. Buck has a flare for the dramatic.

Still, his bloody toes poke through the fronts. His middle toenail is missing.

Buck explains, “God says, ‘Don't worry what you’ll eat, drink, or wear.’ And I believe it. But it's hard sometimes. ‘Specially when you ain’t eaten and you don’t have [cussword] to wear.”

So I walk inside the gas station on a mission. I ask the aforementioned cashier to brew a fresh pot of coffee—I tell her it’s for me. I am very polite about it.

She smiles and says, “Sure, sweetie.”

Ain't she sweet.

I buy a hot cup, an armful of snacks, and a pack of Swisher Unsweetened Mini-Cigars. I give them to Buck on the sidewalk, and I tuck a bill into his hand. I wish I had something bigger, but I don't.

You would think helping someone down on their luck would make you feel good all over. Instead, it just makes me feel like I can’t do nearly enough.

Buck starts crying.

And the truth is, I’m embarrassed to even be telling you all this. Because this story isn’t about me—it’s about Buck.

Buck says with glazed eyes, “Did you know that I see God in you?”

And now I’m the one who has some major eye-glazing going on.

I stumble over my own words. All I can get out is, “Thank you for your service.”

I'm a bumbling fool. The words sounded better in my head than they sounded coming out of my mouth. They seem so… Lightweight.

He smiles. He stands to walk away. His big backpack must weigh eighty pounds.

“Going to Walmart,” he says. “Gon’ buy me some new shoes. Gon’ get me a hot pizza, man. Yessir, just saw God on the street corner.”

And he's gone.

I’m a middle-aged American. I’ve never known hunger. I’ve never not had a Sheetrock ceiling to cover my head. In many ways I'm spoiled. I'm lazy. I'm selfish. And sometimes, I get so lost in my own self-centered world that I can't see.

But.

I just met someone. An invisible someone. A man who—despite whatever his problems may be—isn't lost at all. A man who knows things, different truths than I will ever know.

Yes, he smokes secondhand cigars. But he also sees mankind. He sees us at our most charitable. And he sees us at our worst every time we tell him to get lost.

He sleeps in the open air, counting stars, covered by his military-surplus blanket. He prays for heaven to feed him every day. And somehow heaven does.

He is a man who people overlook because it's easier that way. A man who asked me for nary a thing.

Mister Buck, sir. Today, you met a young redhead who happened to have a few extra dollars in his pocket. A guy who wishes he could do more for an American serviceman, but is too ignorant to know how sometimes.

So you were wrong, Buck. You didn't see God on a street corner today.

I did. 

Source: Sean Dietrich on Facebook -

Mildly Feral

 

I am often mistaken for an adult.

It’s the composure.

The vocabulary.

The refusal to argue with nonsense.

The rest of me is still barefoot, wild-eyed, and mildly feral.

꩜ Ella

Source: Rebel Thriver on Facebook

People that love you care about how they make you feel.

 

“People that love you care about how they make you feel.” (Unknown)

The depth of someone's love is often measured not by grand gestures, but by the quiet consideration they show for your feelings.

Those who truly care understand that their actions, big or small, have a direct impact on your emotional well-being.

They strive to create a safe and supportive environment where you feel valued, understood, and respected.

This thoughtful approach to relationships isn't about perfection; it's about consistent effort and a genuine desire to nurture your happiness and peace of mind!

Source: Tips That Change Your Life on Facebook

_______________________________________________________

Another post from Tips That Change Your LIfe shared below that I think pairs well with the one above.

_______________________________________________________

"Pick the gentle one.

The kind one. The one who brings you peace.

The protective one. The one who is sure of you.

The one who respects you.

The one who understands your silence.

The one who listens with patience.

The one who sees your heart without judgment.

The one who holds your dreams with care.

The one who makes you feel at home, always." (Unknown)

Yes indeed, choose the one who softens the edges of your world, who meets you with kindness even on the days you feel unlovable. The one who doesn’t just hear your words but listens to the quiet spaces in between, understanding the weight of what you don’t say.

Choose the one who stands beside you, not just in laughter but in the moments when life feels heavy, offering steadiness without question. The one who honors your dreams as if they were their own, who protects your heart with gentle hands and unwavering presence.

Love should never leave you anxious or uncertain—it should be a refuge, a place where you are seen, known, and cherished for exactly who you are.

Source: Tips That Change Your Life on Facebook

Mitra @ https://www.facebook.com/tipsthatchangeyourlife/

My Accidental Feral Cat Career

 


My Accidental Feral Cat Career

I was never a cat person. Not even a little bit.

And yet… here we are.

It started in May 2025 when I discovered Mama Kitty living under my deck. She didn’t ask permission. She didn’t sign a lease. She simply moved in and brought children.

At first it was just her. Then Spot appeared — one of her four babies. Four. Under my deck. Without consulting management.

I named them Mama Kitty, Spot, Stripe, Boo, and Heartley, because apparently once you name them, you legally become responsible for them. That’s how it works, right?

Thus began my unpaid internship as Director of Backyard Operations.

Watching the kittens grow was pure joy. Tiny paws. Wobbly legs. Chaos at sunset. They turned my peaceful backyard into a WWE wrestling arena with fur. I’d sit and watch them like it was prime-time television. Better than streaming. Five stars. Would recommend.

Then Mama Kitty disappeared.

She left her teenage children with me like, “You got this.” She’d pop back in occasionally to eat, glance at her offspring like a tired mom at soccer practice, and then vanish again.

And then I noticed it.

The belly.

“Oh no,” I said to absolutely no one. “We are not doing this again.”

I had requested help getting her spayed. Help did not arrive. The universe said, “Surprise!”

Then she disappeared completely. Two whole weeks. When she finally reappeared, the belly was gone.

And what did I do?

I told her, “Go get those babies.”

As if she understood English.
As if she had a calendar.
As if I wasn’t already overwhelmed.

Every day she’d show up, inhale food like she had a train to catch, scan the perimeter, and bolt off the deck like it was actively on fire.

This went on for a while.

Then one day I saw something tiny streak across the deck.

Three. Tiny. Black. Kittens.

So now I had Mama Kitty, the original four, AND three bonus voids. Apparently my deck is a maternity ward.

Eventually Mama Kitty and the three little soot sprites were rehomed (bless whoever signed up for that). And I was left with the original crew: Heartley, Stripe, Spot — now known as Junior — and Boo, now called Sweet Boi, because obviously he needed a rebrand.

They come and go as they please, because they are feral and do not recognize authority. If they miss a meal, I spiral. If they’re gone for two days, I assume coyotes, aliens, or a secret double life.

I was not built for this.

I did not apply for this.

But somewhere along the way, these little freeloaders stole my heart.

I may not have been a cat person…

…but apparently I’m a colony manager now.

And management is tired. 

Diamond in My Crown Patty Loveless

 

As each long day rolls by and falls behind me
In the lonely night there's a peacefulness I've found
Though I'm weary even then when I rise to start again
There'll be a diamond, a diamond in my crown

I have wasted all that life has laid before me
I have watched as all the green fields turn to brown
But I shall not disavow all these ties that bind me now
There'll be a diamond, a diamond in my crown

Shining down some day I know
Brighter than all their streets of gold
When the burdens that I carry I will lay down
And the sorrows I have known
I'll see them all overthrown
There'll be a diamond, a diamond in my crown
Then the closer I will be to my sweetest victory
There'll be a diamond a diamond in my crown