Saturday, 29 November 2025

"Living with Autism"

 




Description of being autistic by Ava

 

“Take a seat and sit with me

I want to talk about ASD

If you don't mind I'd like to explain

A little thing called autism and how it affects my brain

It can make me anxious, angry and afraid

But this stays in my head, on my face it's not displayed

I may seem heartless and question your meanings

But it takes me a little longer to process the feelings

Take a seat and sit with me I want to show you ASD

A girl sitting quietly is all you see

But inside my mind I am far from free

My thoughts collide, my senses take over

I become overwhelmed by the smallest sound

Clicking pens, ticking clocks

That boy's chair and the way it rocks

All different smells attacking me

The perfumes, the coffee, the teacher's tea

Take a seat and sit with me

But not too close, I have ASD

I try to be social, I try to fit in

I come across rude, I can never win

I am very literal and straight to the point

If you want the truth I won't disappoint

When my brain is overloaded I sometimes lash out

My control fades, I scream and shout

I get confused and it all spills out

Intense emotions all trapped inside

Finally have nowhere to hide

Take a seat and sit with me I want to tell you about ASD

Please understand I am not to blame I've just got an atypical brain

But it's not all doom and gloom

I'm often the sportiest girl in the room

I'm quirky, unique, kind and caring

I'm loyal, protective and always sharing

I'm obsessed with frogs and all things green

I'm the youngest trendsetter you've ever seen

Take a seat and sit with me

I am Ava, I am me

I'm not just my label of ASD.”

 

Well done to 12-year-old secondary school student Ava who has won a national poetry competition with her entry about living with autism






Saturday, 22 November 2025

The Chalkboard Message






There are people who teach subjects — and then there are those who teach life.
They remind us that the smallest gestures can echo the loudest in the human heart. This is one of those stories.


Every morning, before the first bell rang, Mr. Lawrence would walk into his quiet classroom and pick up a piece of chalk.
Some days he wrote a quote:

“Be kind — everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Other days it was something simpler:

“You matter.”

It became a quiet ritual.
The students barely noticed at first — rushing in, laughing, complaining about homework. But slowly, the messages began to matter. They’d stop and read, even smile. Sometimes, the words felt like they were written just for them.

One morning, after class, a student lingered.
He looked at the board, then at Mr. Lawrence, and said softly,

“I was going to give up on everything today… but that message stopped me.”

He didn’t say which message. He didn’t need to.
Mr. Lawrence just nodded, his heart full and heavy at the same time.
From that day on, he never missed writing a note — for 25 years. Even on days when his own heart was tired, he kept that chalk moving, line by line, whispering encouragement into the silence.

Because sometimes, hope doesn’t shout.
It’s written in chalk — erased and rewritten, day after day —
until it finds the one heart that needs it most.




Reflection:
We may never know who’s standing on the edge, looking for a reason to stay.
But our small kindnesses — a smile, a word, a message — can be that reason.
What if we each left a little “chalkboard message” in someone’s day?

Quotes to reflect on:

“You never know who needed to see your light today.”

“One small act of encouragement can echo through a lifetime.”

“Even after the last bell rings, their lessons linger.”

“One teacher’s belief can silence a lifetime of doubt.” 








Saturday, 15 November 2025

November We Remember : You Raise Me Up


November We Remember: You Raise Me Up

As the days grow shorter and the air turns gentle with autumn’s calm, November invites us to remember — not only with sorrow, but with gratitude.

We remember the voices that believed in us, the hands that helped us rise, and the hearts that loved us into who we are today. Their presence shaped our paths, their kindness carried us through storms, and their love still lifts us — quietly, faithfully, beyond the limits of what we thought we could be.

When we listen to “You Raise Me Up,” we are reminded that love never truly leaves us. It lives on in the courage we find, the compassion we share, and the peace that settles softly in the spaces where they once stood.

This November, may we pause to give thanks for the lives that raised us higher — and continue to guide us, one quiet moment at a time. 💛


You raise me up 

When I am down and, oh, my soul, so wearyWhen troubles come and my heart burdened beThen I am still and wait here in the silenceUntil You come and sit awhile with me
You raise me up so I can stand on mountainsYou raise me up to walk on stormy seasI am strong when I am on Your shouldersYou raise me up to more than I can be
You raise me up so I can stand on mountainsYou raise me up to walk on stormy seasI am strong when I am on Your shouldersYou raise me up to more than I can be
You raise me up (up) so I can stand on mountains (stand on mountains)You raise me up to walk on stormy seas (stormy seas)I am strong (I am strong) when I am on Your shoulders (ooh)You raise me up to more than I can be
You raise me up (up) so I can stand on mountains (stand on mountains)You raise me up to walk on stormy seas (stormy seas)I am strong when I am on Your shouldersYou raise me up to more than I can be
You raise me up to more than I can be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-8Tp0IVSl8

 






















Sunday, 9 November 2025

"Respect the invisible"

 




RESPECT THE INVISIBLE

A car ahead was moving like a turtle and not giving me way inspite of my continuous honking!

I was on brink of losing my cool when I noticed the small sticker on the cars rear.

It reads...

"Physically challenged; Please be patient.”

And that changed everything!! I immediately went calm and slowed down!!

In fact I got a little protective of the car and the driver.

I reached work a few minutes late, but it was ok!

And then it struck me. Would I have been patient if there was no sticker!?

Why do we need stickers to be patient with people!?

Will we be more patient and kind with others if people had labels pasted on their foreheads?

Labels like:

~ Lost my job

~ Fighting cancer

~ Going through a bad divorce

~ Suffering Emotional abuse

~ Lost a loved one

~ Feeling worthless

~ Financially messed up

.....and more like these.

Everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about.

The least we can do is be patient and kind.

We don't have to put people through the pressures of explaining over times before we understand their pains and offer our little best.

As you go through each passing day always remember there's an invisible label on everyone.

A simple virtue of patience may just be the respect you're according that invisible label.

Author Unknown





Sunday, 26 October 2025

Appreciate and Be Thankful

 





A young man went to seek an important position at a large printing company. He passed the initial interview and was going to meet the director for the final interview. The director saw his resume, it was excellent. And asked, '

Have you received a scholarship for school?' The boy replied, " No '.

 It was your father who paid for your studies? '

Yes.'- He replied.

Where does your father work? '

My father is a Blacksmith'

The Director asked the young to show him his hands.

The young man showed a pair of hands soft and perfect.

 Have you ever helped your parents at their job? '

Never, my parents always wanted me to study and read more books. Besides, he can do the job better than me.

The director said:

I have got a request: When you go home today, go and wash the hands of your father and then come see me tomorrow morning.'

The young felt his chance to get the job was high.

When he returned to his house he asked his father if he would allow him to wash their hands.

His father felt strange, happy, but with mixed feelings and showed their hands to his son. The young washed his hands, little by little. It was the first time that he noticed his father's hands were wrinkled and they had so many scars. Some bruises were so painful that his skin shuddered when he touched them.

This was the first time that the young man recognized what it meant for this pair of hands to work every day to be able to pay for his study. The bruises on the hands were the price that he paid for their education, his school activities and his future.

After cleaning his father's hands the young man stood in silence and began to tidy and clean up the workshop. That night, father and son talked for a long time.

The next morning, the young man went to the office of the director.

The Director noticed the tears in the eyes of the young when He asked him: -' Can you tell me what you did and what you learned yesterday at your house?'

The boy replied: -' I washed my father's hands and when I finished I stayed and cleaned his workshop '

 Now I know what it is to appreciate and recognize that without my parents , I would not be who I am today . By helping my father I now realize how difficult and hard it is to do something on my own. I have come to appreciate the importance and the value in helping the family.

The director said, "This is what I look for in my people. I want to hire someone who can appreciate the help of others , a person who knows the hardship of others to do things, and a person who does not put money as his only goal in life". ' You are hired '.

A child that has been coddled, Protected and usually given him what he wants, develops a mentality of " I have the right ' and will always put himself first, ignoring the efforts of their parents. If we are this type of protective parent are we really showing love or are we destroying our children?

You can give your child a big house , good food , computer classes , watch on a big screen TV . But when you're washing the floor or painting a wall , please let him experience that too.

After eating have them wash the dishes with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you have no money to hire someone to do this it's because you want to love them the right way . No matter how rich you are, you want them to understand. One day your hair will have grey hair, like the father of this young man.

The most important thing is that your child learns to appreciate the effort and to experience the difficulties and learn the ability to work with others to get things done. "

 



Saturday, 18 October 2025

My name is Frank

 





My name’s Frank. I’m 64, a retired electrician.

Forty-two years I spent running wires through houses, fixing breakers, making sure people had light in their kitchens and heat in their winters. Never once did anyone ask me where I went to college. Mostly, they just wanted to know if I could get the power back on before their ice cream melted.

Last May, I was at my granddaughter Emily’s school career day. You know the drill —

doctors, lawyers, a software guy in a slick suit talking about “scaling startups.” I was the only one there with a tool belt and work boots.

When it was my turn, I told the kids, “I don’t have a degree. I’ve never sat in a lecture hall. But I’ve wired schools, hospitals, and your principal’s house. And when the hospital generator failed during a snowstorm in ’98, I was the one in the basement with a flashlight, keeping the lights on for newborn babies upstairs.”

The kids leaned forward. They had questions — real ones. “How do you fix stuff in the dark?” “Do you make a lot of money?” “Do you ever get zapped?” (Yes, once, and it’ll curl your hair.)

When the bell rang, one boy hung back. Small kid, freckles, hoodie too big for him. He mumbled, “My uncle’s a plumber. People laugh at him ’cause he didn’t finish high school. But… he’s the only one in the family who can fix anything.”

I looked that boy in the eye and said, “Kid, your uncle’s a hero. When your toilet overflows at midnight, Harvard ain’t sending anyone. A plumber is.”

Here’s the thing nobody told me when I was young — the world doesn’t run without tradespeople. You can have all the engineers you want, but if nobody builds the house, wires the power, or lays the pipes, those blueprints just sit in a drawer.

We’ve made it sound like trades are what you do if you can’t go to college, instead of a path you choose because you like working with your hands, solving problems, and seeing your work stand solid for decades.

Four years after high school, some kids walk away with diplomas. Others walk away with zero debt, a union card, and a skill they can take anywhere in the world. And guess what? When your furnace dies in January, it’s not the diploma that saves you.

A few weeks ago, that same freckled kid’s mom stopped me at the grocery store. She said, “You probably don’t remember, but you told my son trades are important. He’s shadowing his uncle this summer. First time I’ve seen him excited about anything in years.”

That’s the part we forget — for some kids, knowing their path is important and changes everything. It’s not about “just” fixing wires or pipes. It’s about pride. Purpose. The kind that sticks with you long after the job’s done.

So next time you meet a teenager, don’t just ask, “Where are you going to college?” Ask, “What’s your plan?” And if they say, “I’m learning to weld,” or “I’m starting an apprenticeship,” smile big and say, “That’s fantastic. We’re going to need you.”

Because we will. More than ever. And when the lights go out, you’ll be glad they showed up.”





Saturday, 11 October 2025

"Where the Light Never Dies"






Where the Light Never Dies                                                                                                                 Inspired by Lewis Capaldi and Celine Dion.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yqef_2KNBdY

 




Saturday, 4 October 2025

" Never Write Anybody Off, Ever "

 








“The Bus Stop Violin”

The wind cut through the high street as people rushed past the bus stop. Most hardly noticed the man sitting on an upturned crate, his violin resting on his knee. His coat was frayed at the cuffs, and his beard had gone white in patches.

Lena noticed him first because of the music. It wasn’t polished, but there was something raw and aching in the way he played Ave Maria. She slowed, fumbling for coins.

“Thank you,” the man murmured when she dropped a pound into the open case. His voice was soft, almost embarrassed.

“That was beautiful,” Lena said. “Did you study music?”

He hesitated. “Once. Long time ago. Before… everything.”

She almost walked on, but something in his eyes stopped her. “What’s your name?”

“David.”

“David,” she repeated. “Would you mind if I recorded a bit of your playing? People online should hear this.”

He shrugged. “If you like. Doesn’t matter.”

Lena took out her phone. David straightened, tucked the violin under his chin, and played again. This time the notes soared.

That night Lena posted the clip with a caption:

“Meet David. He’s homeless, but his music deserves a stage. Please share.”

Within hours it had thousands of views. By the next morning her inbox was full of messages: a retired music teacher offering free lessons, a local shelter offering a bed, a community orchestra wanting him to audition.

When Lena found David again at the bus stop, she held out her phone. “Look,” she said, showing him the messages.

He stared at the screen. “All… this… for me?” His hands trembled.

“Yes,” Lena said. “People want to help. They want you to play.”

He wiped his eyes. “I thought the world forgot me.”

“No,” she said softly. “Never write anybody off, David. Not even yourself.”

Months later, David stood on a small stage at a community concert hall. He wore a borrowed tuxedo, his beard neatly trimmed. In the front row sat Lena, grinning.

“Before I play,” David told the audience, “I want to thank the young woman who stopped at a bus stop and didn’t just walk by. She reminded me — and all of you — that no life is too far gone. Thank you.”

He lifted the violin. The first note rang out, clear and sure, and for the first time in years, David played not to survive but to be heard.




Saturday, 27 September 2025

A Sack of Stones

 





A Sack of Stones…

 

Once upon a time, in a quiet village nestled among hills, there lived a wise grandfather named Esteban and his curious but stubborn grandson, Martín.

Martín hated homework. Every day it turned into a battle at home. One afternoon, after his mother reached her breaking point, she left him with Grandpa Esteban to cool off.

— “What’s wrong, Martín?”

— “Homework, Grandpa! It’s boring, it’s hard, and I don’t want to do it!”

Esteban didn’t argue. He simply walked over to the corner and brought back an old sack full of rocks.

— “Help me carry this to the other side of the field,” he said.

Martín stared at it.

— “But it’s heavy! Why should I?”

— “I’ll explain on the way.”

Grumbling, Martín picked up the sack. Step by step, it grew heavier. After a while, Esteban spoke:

— “Homework is like this sack. It feels pointless and hard. But guess what happens if someone carries a sack like this every day?”

— “What?” Martín gasped.

— “Their arms grow stronger.”

— “Homework isn’t to bother you—it’s to make your mind strong. So when real problems come, you’re ready.”

Martín frowned, quietly absorbing the message.

— “And if I just don’t do it?”

Esteban paused and smiled gently.

— “Then someone else will always have to carry your weight. But do you want to rely on others forever?”

Martín didn’t answer. But his steps grew more determined. At the end of the field, they set the sack down and sat beneath a tree.

— “I hated carrying sacks as a boy too,” Esteban said.

— “But now, each one I lift reminds me of the strength I’ve built.”

That night, for the first time, Martín asked his mother to sit with him while he did his homework. It wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t give up.

💡Sometimes, what feels heavy isn’t a punishment—

it’s preparation.

And all we need is someone like Esteban to remind us:

the weight we carry today can become the strength we rely on tomorrow.





"Living with Autism"

  Description of being autistic by Ava   “Take a seat and sit with me I want to talk about ASD If you don't mind I'd like to...