The only pen pal I ever had lived in another country.

It began when he was nine.

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.

Thank goodness all turned out well