To the person that commented on Facebook that bullying “toughens kids up” and prepares them for “the real world”…
Take it from me, as a kid who was bullied a LOT… If you had any idea what that life is like, you wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
The only thing that bullying “toughens up” is a soft heart. It steals the ability to trust, to hope, and to love. It steals joy and peace and faith.
I’m 46 years old, no one has bullied me in nearly thirty years…and I still instinctively raise my fists when someone surprises me from behind.
I think you need to take a good long look at “the real world” and consider if that’s the kind of world you really want to perpetuate…
Hey everyone, I had the same problem with Outlook hanging on “Synchronizing subscribed folders” and “checking for new mail in subscribed folders.”
I think I FINALLY found someone who knows the answer!
Apparently (at least in my case), it was that Outlook had my entire folder hierarchy “subscribed” to check for updates every time, instead of just my Inbox, Sent, and Trash (and I had about a hundred other folders!)
Once I “unsubscribed” from all but those three, the problem went away immediately!
It’s not my answer, so I’m not comfortable copying and pasting it, but you can see the step-by-step instructions here. I’ll give you the long URL too, so you can see where you’re going:
Hope that helps!
Perry P. Perkins
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Okay, so I got LAMBASTED (in love) last night on Facebook, for apparently “keeping people in the dark” over my written works.
Cut me some slack, okay? It’s been a long time, and you can only beat a horse for so long before you get tired and the horse gets bored. So…here goes, and my apologies for the blatant self promotion…
I have two Christian mystery/suspense novels: “Just Past Oysterville”, and it’s sequel: “Shoalwater Voices”, a short story collection: “Four from Left Field”, an outdoor (hunting/fishing) humor collection: “Elk Hunters Don’t Cry”, a children’s picture book: “Something Scary in Frogville”, and then several cookbooks on various topics (mostly BBQ/Grilling.)
I’m also in a heap of Chicken Soup for the Soul books, but it’s too long of a list to look up, and I don’t have them available directly anyway, lol.
All of my titles are available on my Amazon Author Page.
Okay. Horn tooted.
(There, Janey, Michael, and Tan [et al]…am I forgiven??? LOL)
I think I peed my pants…
The “When’s dinner” scene is KILLING me!
Most of these friends and family are believers, and often, during their transition, or just after, I find myself in an odd emotional state. I see others around me grieving, and yet the only thing I seem to feel is a melancholy sadness, like that feeling you get after dropping a good friend off at the airport, knowing you won’t see them again for some time.
A “post holiday letdown”, if you will.
This is how I felt when my dad went home, and again, last night, after we celebrated the life of one of the best friends I’ve ever had.
I did cry during the memorial, but not at the thought of Ed going home. I cried when I looked at his kids sitting in the front row, two of them born into a birth-right of great parents, two whom God blessed to be adopted into it. Amazingly good kids, all.
I cried as I thought of how the God who created everything, looked down at all of the people in the world that He could give these four babies too, and He chose my friends…because He KNEW.
I cried the way I cry during the final scene of “It’s a Wonderful Life” (sorry, I’m a movie buff) as I sat there looking at these four amazing young lives that are the legacy of everything that was good, and best, and wonderful about my friend. These bright, shining arrows who are just being launched into a dark world to bring light…the warmth of my old friend’s fingers still on the bowstring.
As they spoke about their father’s love, his nurturing, and the gift of the unquestionable importance he placed on his family, I found myself nodding and smiling, tears on my cheeks as such a wave of respect and pride and joy welled up at how good, how amazingly well, my dear friend had run and completed his race. To see the living, breathing evidence standing tall (some extremely tall) before me. How grateful I was that God had blessed me with the opportunity to watch it, and be touched by it.
How can I grieve?
I felt like one of those crazed parents at an awards ceremony, and I wanted to leap to my feet and shout, “THAT’S MY FRIEND THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT! MY FRIEND DID THAT!” (Don’t worry, I didn’t, but I wanted to!)
I will miss my friend so much, and I will think of him often. Likely with the first whiffs of smoke from the campfire, at the crunch of autumn leaves beneath my hunting boots, the smell of meat cooking over glowing coals, and with the unrestrained laughter of a group of life-long friends…these will remind me of him, and I’ll wish he was there with us again.
But I won’t say goodbye Ed, and I won’t grieve for you. I will think of you, and smile through my tears, and be so very proud of how well you ran your race.
Have a good flight, Brother, I’ll see you there.