1.7 Seconds

That’s how long I have to grab your attention before you scroll on to the next shiny thing. But this morning, or sometime else during the day I am going to post it at various other times because we are never on here altogether noways.

As we wend our way through the morass that we call the election process our focus will be guided by those who have skin in the game to what’s important. We have had the President’s ‘pat on the back’ State of the Union which portends to tell us just that, the state of the union. We even had our President and Vice President tell us where we stand in preparation for the advance of the coronavirus. In my opinion, none of any that I described amounts to a hill of beans.

It does not account for ‘the people’ who are hurting in America. Our economy might be great in financial terms while homeless encampments abound in major cities. Mass shootings, gangland shootouts, brazen robberies might call for gun control in politicians minds but in my mind I see a lot of people in anguish at the loss of their loved one, the desperation of those committing these heartless acts speak to lost souls whose lives are earmarked for desolate endings. It’s not the disparity between the have’s and have not’s, It is the hopelessness of the have not’s that they ever will have.

Those without, tend to do without for a long long time. The government will never comfort ye my people. Jesus said, the poor you will have with you always. And a lot of people think, okay, it’s not me. That is the group we need to heal first. Those that believe it’s not them, who fend for themselves, who make do as best they can, who live just above that threshold of pain either don’t know, or have forgotten where they came from. There is no condemnation of those folks. I’m just pointing out where our help is going to come from. From the same We The People group who live and walk among us.

Which brings us to We, to Me. The ones who are going to MAKE A DIFFERENCE are US. Where is our part, what can we do…and we don’t need permission. One kind act can turn a frown to a smile. One word of encouragement can light a spark of hope. Sharing knowledge, not selling it can provide a new path to someones future.

On March 1, 1978. a young woman drove me to downtown Chicago for the purpose of extricating my mere possessions of a box of books as I signed out of the Half Way House completing that portion of my 12 year prison sentence to become ostensibly a FREE MAN. Without a job, or place to stay or any additional help I would need with my finances, ($22.00), my medical health, readjusting to society after 7 1/2 years, I moved into a household of barely met Christians who belonged to a communal church, Reba Place Fellowship. Without that Difference Making Love. I most surely would have drowned in despair. And as I had so many times before, gone back to ‘my people’ behind Walls of hopelessness.

God’s Promises small group .

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