The only pen pal I ever had lived in another country.
Someone contacted me that he and the family were in very bad shape and needed help.
So, each month I would scrap what I could from our pot and send it on.
Ever so often my pen pal would send a letter in his little child’s hand. It filled my eyes and touched my heart.
As time went on the letters became more mature, the writing more legible.
Then one day I received a notice that my pen pal had turned sixteen; he had taken a job to help support the family.
Instantly, I knew…
There would be no more letters.
May Your Glass Always Be Half Full
News from Home: Sorry for the late post but I had to leave the house early Friday.
Jen hasn’t been feeling well lately. She needed a procedure where she would be
put to sleep; I had to be there.