Is there enough evidence?

I read this post yesterday from Jason F. Wright, one of my favorite authors.
I don't even know his friend that passed away, but I am touched by the wonderful things that Jason wrote about him.
I have often wondered about this quote, when I have thought about my own life.
“If you were accused of being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” 
It truly makes you stop and think about your choices and actions in life!
Good Night dear friends!

In memory of Paul Moore. (Joni Young Moore, Kodi Erekson Wright,Laurel Christensen Day, Chantelle Squires) ‪#‎justliketheson‬

Jason F. Wright Official Fan Page added 3 new photos.

12 hrs · 

I don't often post with tears in my eyes. But this is one of those rare moments that invites my pride to sleep a little longer today.

And maybe it's because this post is about the sun ... and the Son.

I learned in the middle of the night that my friend Paul Moore died. You might recall that I wrote about Paul and his inspiring family last fall. Introducing him to my wife Kodi just 10 days ago is among the highlights of our marriage.

Being part of a special film with the Moores in his final mortal days is among the highlights of my career.

Know this — few people have ever faced certain death with such faith, hope and charity.

Walking with my family on the beach early this morning in Corolla, North Carolina, I looked out at the Sabbath sun and felt such gratitude for having known him.

God didn't have to cross our paths. But He did.

It's a blessing I didn't earn, but one I will always cherish.

Looking at the rising sun, I wonder why I feel such love for Paul and his dear wife, Joni.

It's not because of their suffering — many of us walk every single day through a painful loop of hearts that break, mend and then break again.

It’s not because of the divine love they have for one another. I know many marriages, including my own, that are sealed tight in a partnership with God.

Looking at the sun rising in the east and bathing everything in its redeeming light, I think it's because Paul reminds me of the Son.

Let's be clear, Paul was not perfect. That word is reserved for the One we follow. But in so many ways, Paul reminds me of Christ.

He was kind, gentle, generous, forgiving, patient, hardworking, loving, longsuffering and knowledgeable. Paul knew the gospel because Paul lived the gospel.

Despite his trials, Paul rose each day like the sun. He was a source of light to many outside his humble town.

Just like the Son.

Then, when he faced certain death, at far too young an age, he did so with faith, hope and charity.

Just like the Son.

And as the sun came to life across the ocean at my sandy feet, Paul will one day rise again.

Just like the Son.

In memory of Paul Moore.
1979-2016

Everyone's life can be a tribute!

I do believe that everyone knows someone in their live ...that has had a huge impact on them. Then when they pass on, there is usually something they could carry on in their own lives, to pay a tribute to them.
Here is an article about someone that did just that! Hope you read it!
Good Night dear friends!

Meet Aubri Whatcott: Her life is tribute to brothers killed in plane crash

Aubri WhatcottAubri Whatcott sits in the front row in a classroom packed with more than 100 eighth- and ninth-graders at West Point Junior High School in West Point, Utah. She and her classmates are in the middle of my novel, The Seventeen Second Miracle. And thanks to the sly planning of their teacher, Michelle Denson, I’ve surprised them by showing up to answer questions in person rather than via Skype.
The enjoyable session flows smoothly, like a winding country road. When it finally comes to an end, I stay awhile to visit with Denson and several students. I tell them how Denson is one of my favorite teachers in America and a pioneer of teaching my books and their concepts in public schools. They answer that she’s one of their favorite teachers, too, and the bond between students and teacher is obvious.
When they leave for lunch, I ask about each student who stayed back for a photo and a few extra laughs. “Tell me about Aubri,” I ask. And I wonder aloud about the maturity in her eyes.
“Maybe she should tell you,” Denson says with tenderness in her voice.
Soon, Aubri and I are visiting again in the hallway.
Soon, Aubri is telling me about July 20, 2014.
Soon, I’m learning a lesson about friends, faith and what the word tribute really means.
On July 20, 2014, Aubri’s brothers Daulton, 19, and Jaxon Whatcott, 16, were killed when their private plane crashed in Arizona near the Virgin River Gorge. They were flying from Davis County to Mesquite, Nevada, for a basketball tournament.
“They were late landing,” Aubri tells me during a recent interview. “We went up to the airport where they were supposed to land to see what was up and I just had this horrible feeling.”
It wasn’t long before they got the call.
“I’ve never been more devastated,” Aubri says, describing the blunt force of the news. They drove to St. George, spending the night at a relative’s house, and waited for the boys to be pulled from the mountain. They even visited the crash site, because in the words of Aubri’s father, “they still wanted to believe it wasn’t real.”
By the time they returned home to Clinton, Utah, a loving mass of family and friends had assembled for a vigil.
During our interview, I share with Aubri and her parents how impressed I was with her steady, seasoned countenance the day we met in early May. “A few more months have passed and now you’re at the one-year anniversary of something most of my readers cannot even comprehend. How are you really doing?”
She pauses. “There’s not a moment I don’t think about them. Even now.”
Aubri describes the things she misses most about her brothers. “The teasing. They could be so annoying! And the trips to 7-Eleven. They made me go along, but I had to sit in the back of their little two-door car and wait forever.”
She explains how these and many other little memories are what she cherishes.
Later, we discuss the things she’s learned in the year since the crash. She talks about loving friends and having as many as you can, the way her brothers did. “I want to love people. It doesn’t matter what you look like, what you do or don’t do, we’re all friends to support each other.”
Aubri has also learned to lean on her only other sibling, her oldest brother, Dace. “I would be a lot sadder because he was really there for me when everything happened. I don’t think I could be as happy without him. He is like my best friend.”
She also speaks freely about the many tributes organized for the boys everyone considered brothers. Both Aubri’s volleyball and basketball teams went undefeated during their regular seasons in honor of the Whatcotts and wore their initials on their uniforms.
They had special cheers, stomps and shirts to pay tribute to the brothers who were so passionate about sports. When prom day arrived, many young men showed up to present Aubri’s mother, Eileen, with a different kind of tribute — a flower.
But the family wasn’t surprised. Those same boys are frequent guests in their home and have become members of their extended family.
“Aubri has a lot of brothers looking out for her,” her dad, Rhett, said laughing. “She might not have a boyfriend until she’s 25.”
One of Aubri’s favorite tributes has come by way of the piano. In the past year, she’s taught herself to play her brothers’ favorite songs, Tom Petty’s “Free Falling” and Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” She’s played both at memorials for Jaxon and Daulton.
We talk about faith, too, and Aubri speaks about her belief in God, heaven and prayer.
“I have huge faith in prayer,” Aubri said. “After this happened my mom had trouble sleeping and when she couldn’t, she was really sad. Not happy at all. I didn’t like seeing her that way — so exhausted. One night I prayed to let my mom sleep better. Like one good night. And the next day she took me out to the store and said she felt so good. She slept well for the first night since all this happened.”
I marvel at the blessing of such an immediate response to prayer — often we don’t get answers right away — and she agrees. “Prayer will always be a huge part of my life.”
Toward the end of the conversation, I refer for the fifth or sixth time to the event as an “accident,” and this time I’m kindly corrected.
“We don’t like to call this an accident,” Aubri says. “I think that no matter what, this was supposed to happen. It wasn’t an accident.” She and her parents allude to very personal bits of evidence in their lives that prove this to be true. They don’t like it, but they accept their Heavenly Father’s will.
“They are doing something greater now,” Aubri adds.
As our discussion winds to a close, much like the one that started our friendship in a cramped classroom months ago in Utah, I ask Aubri how she thinks her brothers would grade her life at the one-year anniversary.
“I think they would be pretty happy with how good I am doing,” she says, then pauses. “But sometimes, they probably wish I could be even better.”
By enduring with such maturity a tragedy most cannot fathom, it’s hard to imagine her brothers feeling anything but tremendous joy at the way she’s pressing on without them. They surely enjoy the temporary tributes, I suggest, but must be even more proud of Aubri’s courageous life.
Daulton and Jaxon Whatcott know what the rest of us are quickly learning about young Aubri. She’s not just wearing, cheering or singing a tribute to her brothers.
She’s living one.

find it HERE:

It gets better!

Well, today went different than we had planned for Angie's 3 Day Sleep Over...she is still very sick. So we just laid low again, tried to get a lot of fluids in her and just sat around and talked. We watched a movie and then just headed her to bed early. I pray that tonight she does better than last night. She is such a sweetheart and hardly complains at all. Still no matter what she still wants to stay for her Sleep Over. It does my heart good!
Loved this letter that Jason F. Wright, great reminder to us all ...that "It gets better".
Good Night dear friends!

Letter to a stranger in a cemetary

Dear Sir in the cemetery,

I saw you last Sunday.

I was driving home from a church in the northern part of Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

You were visiting a different kind of church. Wearing a dark suit, you stood at the foot of what appeared to be a fresh grave in a quiet, sunny cemetery. You looked younger than me, but your face and posture breathed experience.

You were alone.

I admit that my heart suggested I slam on the brakes and approach you. But my mind argued otherwise. Yes, I did pull into the cemetery’s side entrance, but I observed from a safe distance and did not leave my car.

As I sat, I reminisced about my own graveside visits to those I’ve loved and lost. And I lingered on three words heaven has whispered to me over and over again.

It gets better.

Obviously, I do not know the circumstances of your loss, your relationship or your grief. You might have been there to mourn a mother who lived to 82, a brother who perished at 52 or a wife who passed at 32.

Or, perhaps most tragically, a toddler taken at just 2.

As an adult, you probably already know that the grief for every kind of death is distinct, like crayons in a box that are all the same size and shape, but when streaked across the paper are unique.

But perhaps in the postscript of a funeral, you don’t yet know that those three words are as real as the pain you feel.

It gets better.

I’m almost certain people who’ve been there surround you on all sides. Maybe not living the exact same shades of grief, but they’ve likely lost someone they loved more than anyone or anything. When you wonder about tomorrow, you wonder if they believe in those three words, too.

If my assumptions are correct and your own loss is recent, the grief might feel like a bright billboard that no matter where you turn or how fast you drive, is always right in front of you. It seems inescapable. Even when you close your eyes, even when you dream, your personalized shade of sadness finds you.

That’s part of the plan. Though today it may sound out of tune, grief is good. It means they lived, it means you loved, it means they left behind a piece of their soul inside yours.

Many years ago I invited one of my brothers to visit my father’s grave with me. Unlike the grave you watered with tears last week, our dad’s has seen only rain and sprinklers for a long time. My brother smiled and reminded me what I already knew. “He’s not there.”

I realized that day that for my brother, it got better. And, eventually, it got better for me, too. We miss him, of course, but our grief has turned into brighter shades of memories: the cheesy T-shirts, the bad jokes and a thousand lessons learned.

During this Holy Week, the days that lead to the victory of Easter morning, I’m reminded again of the many visits to gravesites that tugged at my heartstrings. I remember how cemeteries can be peaceful, healing settings and I don’t regret a single second spent there.

I also remember the billboard I couldn’t escape. I recall the pain that waited for me each morning like uncomfortable shoes at the side of my bed.

Perhaps like you, I wondered if the sun would ever rise again.

In time, I learned the most foundational and fundamental truth of eternal life.

The sun will rise again, because the Son rose.

Friends come and go, families grow, relationships end and 101 hearts are broken and healed every second of every day. But this Easter truth is constant.

He is Risen.

Just like Mary who sat outside an empty tomb, the graves we visit are simply symbols. The only life there is our own. The ones we mourn, the one you miss, is not there.

No, they’re not yet risen. But they will be!

Because he was.

And even though I don’t know you, because he is risen, I know these other three words are also true.

It gets better.
You can read it HERE:

Mom comes first!

I loved this article by Jason Wright. It is a very important message for kids to understand and learn. As I loving said good bye to Miss Jenny my companion for the last 2 days, I also realized that I was looking forward to being with Jeff. Just me and him again! How fun this empty nest stage is getting. Yes, there are still some lonely days but thank goodness for grandkids is all I can say!
So reading this article made me think of how grateful I am ...that Jeff and I have always been a team. The kids knew that we put each other first, and now after all these years and now that they are grown and gone...how grateful I am we already had our relationship going through all the years.
Good night dear friends.
Scroll to the bottom if you want to see what Jenny and I were up to today!

Message to kids: Mom comes firstt

This won’t come as a surprise to my kids, but now they have it in writing. In fact, next time it comes up, maybe I’ll just send a link and a wink.

Oakli, Jadi, Kason and Koleson, I love you.

I love you more than you know, maybe more than you’ll ever know. Each of you is talented, kind, funny and imperfect. All four of you are works-in-progress, just like your flawed folks. And you bring me and your mother more happiness than we can articulate.

But never forget: Mom comes first.

Here’s the thing, kiddos. You’re players on the team, and I need you in the game. But your mother isn’t just some assistant coach calling the dishwashing, cooking and make-your-bed-or-else plays.

She’s our co-head coach, a full partner. Without her, this team would have a laughable, losing record.

Remember, my time on the field with you is more or less 18 years. Sure, we could go overtime for college summers and any short-term boomerangs back home while you chase employment. But in time, you’ll each find someone to pair up with and start a team of your own.

You’re kids. We get it. Sometimes you’re tempted to pit one parent against the other. I did it, too. We approach one coach for this and the other coach for that.

If you fear one will say “no,” you ask the other instead. Sometimes, you even ignore the first coach’s answer and cozy up to the second one for another shot.

Yep. I did that, too. And just like every other parent, we don’t like it.

But you know what really makes dad-coaches like me crazy? When children disrespect and mistreat their mothers.

Here we go.

Once, as a teenager, on a muggy summer afternoon, your grandmother said “no” to what seemed like a perfectly reasonable request from her knucklehead son. With no one else in sight, I responded in a way I’ll always regret.

I was wrong. No excuses. No exceptions. No justifications.

And no, we weren’t alone.

My dad was right around the corner and it took just a few seconds for me to recognize that I hadn’t just stepped over a line, I’d smashed it with a sledgehammer.

Your Grandpa Wright led me down the hall to the couch in the living room and hung his giant right arm around me. I remember well the smell of lawn clippings and hard work. He was a big man and when he pulled you in close, you were his.

I’ll never forget the concern.

I’ll never forget the love.

I’ll never forget that he cut the discussion short.

Even more importantly, I’ll never forget the scene that came next.

When I hoped the dust had settled, I went looking for my mother. I found her sitting on a log that bordered our garden at the far edge of our side yard. Her back was to the house and even from a distance, I could tell she was crying.

But she wasn’t alone.

Dad sat at her right. He had his big arm around her. She was his.

The image is unshakable three decades later. They were a team.

While I knew my dad loved me, I knew that my mother came first. They are bound in this life and the next. He loved me and my siblings, but I wasn’t his best friend. He absolutely cherished our time together, but his wife was his top priority.

Mom came first.

Kids, it’s taken me time to understand this, but you aren’t really ours. You’re just in our care for a short time. You belong to a loving God who is your first Creator, your spiritual Father, and His perfect love for you is even tougher to describe than ours.

He’s a partner in our marriage. He and His son, the only Begotten One, are the reason our marriage is more than a legal contract between two consenting adults. It’s an eternal bond only possible by Them and through Them.

While I have faith our relationships with you will also endure beyond this life and into the next, it is your mom who is my best friend, my eternal companion, my co-head coach and the one with whom I am equally yoked.

Kids, I love you. But don’t ever forget that no matter the day, the debate, the game or how much time is on the clock, Mom comes first.

I found the article HERE:

Jenny and I went to one of my dear friend's house today. As we talked in her sewing studio, Jenny had fun playing and dressing up Gordy. She even drew her a picture of him! Then we just sewed and crocheted a little bit more. It was fun, hard saying good bye to her but she was ready to see her family. GRATEFUL is what comes to mind!

Personal Opinion

I love how Jason puts his words on to a page and many times after reading them, I want to go and do something, be better, help someone and on and on. What a beautiful thing to do with your talents...help others and encourage them to be better.
Anyway these are great words of wisdom to all of us, but I think tonight...I really needed to hear them for me.
Good Night dear friends!

‘Shrink the gap’ between your opinion and God’s by Jason Wright

One of my favorite people on the planet suffers from a confidence deficit.

It’s heartbreaking.

We have many mutual friends, and everyone in her path finds her talented, articulate, dedicated, focused and faithful. This friend is lovely inside and out, and she seems to be the only person who disagrees.

She’s in a near-constant state of doubt about her real value. “Am I a failure? Am I good enough? Smart enough? Am I trying hard enough? Giving up too easily? Am I being kind? Generous? Am I reading the Bible enough? Serving enough? Praying enough?”

The doubts spread and multiply like a dangerous virus. Oh, if only she knew.

She’s a force!

She’s amazing!

She’s great!

Plus, she holds untapped potential to be even greater!

During one recent exchange, my mind ignited an idea that I’m pretty sure I didn’t plant there. In a flash, I realized that we’d had it wrong all along.

My self-doubting friend shouldn’t worry about our opinions, but about what God thinks. Doesn’t He know the goodness in each of us and how much potential we possess?

Then, with this theme, I posed a few leading questions.

“Do you believe God is your Creator?”

“Yes.”

“Your literal Father in heaven?”

“Of course.”

“Is He perfect?”

“Yes.”

“Does He love you?”

Her humble smile and the gathering tears answered for her.

“All right. So He’s our Creator, our Father, He’s perfect and He loves us. If that’s all true, then would any of us be built for failure?”

She shook her head.

“Well then,” I said. “It’s time to ‘shrink the gap’ between who you think you are, and who God thinks you are. No, we’re not perfect, but He doesn’t make mistakes. We are divine creations with divine potential.”

I reminded her that we are all unique with different talents, strengths and weaknesses, but we all have one thing in common. No one ever has been predestined for failure. We are built for success.

I know what you’re thinking. You’ve been there, too.

We all have. It’s natural. We doubt. We question. We cry out for a reminder that we’re not alone.

We each have days when we wake up and wonder if our prayers are powerful enough to reach the all-powerful.

I think you and I, plus my friend, plus your neighbor, plus your neighbor’s neighbor, all suffer from a flexible confidence gap that constantly expands and shrinks between our self-imposed limits and the eternal potentials of heaven. But if God’s power is limitless, and if all of our talents, gifts and abilities come from Him, then aren’t they also limitless?

Consider that. You are unique, so is my friend, and she is talented in many ways. So are you. Those gifts come from an infinite Creator who knows us intimately, even how many hairs are on our heads.

We’re flawed, selfish, impatient and prone to repeat mistakes. No, we’re not perfect, but our Father is. And that’s the miracle that matters most!

Of course we must remain deferential, humble and attribute all our success to Him. But we also should never, ever doubt His best work. (That’s you!)

I sure hope my friend is listening, but by now I understand that it’s not just about her. It’s about all of us. May we all recognize that none of us are meant for failure, because we’re all meant for Him.

Let’s shrink the gap.

Found the article HERE:

Making new friends!

Glad to hear that I am not the only one that makes friends...any where they go!

Warning! At road closures, do not remain in vehicle

t

Do you remember that one time I was halfway through a 10-day, 50 store tour across eight states in the west? Then, as I was racing toward my last event of the day, 700 miles from where I started the morning, I hit a road closure for rock blasting at Snoqualmie Pass outside Seattle?

Oh yeah, that was Tuesday.

With folks waiting for me at the Deseret Book location in nearby Bellevue, Washington, I approached the temporary closure on I-90 that gave me two options. I could turn the car off and sit it out, or I could take a detour that my GPS estimated would take four hours across 200 miles. The detour would launch me so far off the path to the north that I’d need a passport and Frommer’s guide to Saskatchewan.

After having already spent 12 hours in the car on a journey that began in Boise Idaho, I chose the closure and put it in park.

While waiting, I made phone calls to the publisher and bookstore to let them know we’d need to push the event to the next morning. I hated knowing there were people waiting in the store and others on the way who likely wouldn’t be able to attend during regular business hours the next day because of work and family responsibilities.

As I sat in the car lamenting my misfortune, I remembered all the folks during the last week who made considerable sacrifice to see me.

Wonderful readers waited as long as two hours when the schedule hung me out to dry. Others drove long distances only to see me dash in and out of the store with so little time all we could do was shake hands, take a photo and express gratitude for one another.

In Utah last week, one longtime reader chased me to several stores, each time arriving just minutes after I’d left. Eventually they gave up with a shrug and smile. “Next time!” They said to me on Facebook.

In Idaho this weekend, a faithful reader drove from Rexburg to Ammon to find I was already on the freeway by the time she walked in the bookstore. But there were no complaints and no regrets; in each case they simply made the best of it.

Sitting in the stunning Snoqualmie canyon, I looked around and thought, what would these readers do? The answer was pretty obvious.

At road closures, they would not remain in the vehicle.

I stretched my legs and stood in that clean, crisp air, the kind that feels like it’s healing your lungs.

I looked at the SUV behind me and smiled.

Before I could even take a step toward it, the woman on the passenger’s side saw me and was hopping out to say hello.

Her name was Linda Sledd, and the beautiful smile on her face said she’s familiar with turning delays into delights.

“Do you have any books?” she asked with a laugh.

After introductions and an explanation of the lettering on the back of my rental car promoting the #50storetour, we dove down to the business of books, family, trips and writing. Her husband Dana soon joined us and the conversation comfortably rolled on, even if traffic didn’t.

I learned that the Sledd’s have a young granddaughter, Alicia, who’s an aspiring writer and is already working on her first novel. I signed a book for her and promised to be at her first signing someday.

We talked about Seattle’s weather, my daughter Oakli at Brigham Young University and the oddity of me driving a rental car from Phoenix to Seattle and back to San Diego.

“I’m so glad I got out of the car,” I told her.

Before we said goodbye with handshakes and hugs, I plied them with books and treats from my car – gummy bears, of course – and through the canyon we went.

Certainly, this adventure has produced a long list of memories sure to linger for months and years to come. But this one will always sit high in the altitude above the best experiences of this trip and most others.

When life hands my readers and friends – the terms are synonymous – detours and delays, they don’t withdraw and complain. They engage, exchange and learn. They make the best of every delay.

Some of the most interesting and memorable people we might ever meet aren’t the ones in the next cubicle, the pew behind us in church or next-door to us in the cul-de-sac.

They might be behind us in line in the grocery store or in the doctor’s office waiting room.

Or, maybe, they’re sitting in an SUV on I-90 in a canyon. And, if that’s true, we better get out of the car.

I found the story HERE:

Looking for the good ...is always a better choice!

I am grateful for any example of those people in the world...who look for the good in others. I think it is always a better choice and a great way to live our lives!
Have a great day dear friends!
Open Letter to an Unknown Driver in Woodstock, Virginia

Dear Unknown Driver:

On September 10, 2014, sometime between 8 and 10 p.m., you were driving northbound on Rt. 11 – Main Street – in Woodstock, Virginia. You were right in front of our quaint, small town movie theatre in the heart of Shenandoah County.

Of course, you know that part already.

You drifted to the right on the two-lane road, side-swiped my parked car, and sent my side mirror sailing 40 feet down the street.

You know that part, too.

What you don’t know, because you didn’t stick around, is that I was inside working just a few feet away and wouldn’t discover the damage until I left for the night. I rarely work late, but I’ve been crashing on a couple of deadlines and needed to stretch my day.

After seeing no note, no business card and having no clue who might have breakdanced with my car, I made a call across the street to the police station. Not surprisingly, they were there in two minutes.

The officers were consummate professionals. They circled the car, took pictures and asked questions. Despite it being fairly minor, they treated it with both seriousness and courtesy.

When I expressed surprise that someone would cause this kind of damage without taking responsibility, the men shook their heads and one of them said, flatly, “People just aren’t honest anymore.”

Soon the officers rolled on and I was crawled in my car window to make the short drive home. Sure, I was frustrated to know I would be dealing with police reports, insurance and a body shop for the next week, but what really bothered me was their assessment.

“People just aren’t honest anymore.”

It’s been two days and I can’t stop thinking about it.

I also can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you’d left a note, called the police or even knocked on my office door. (Mine is street level and the lights were on.)

You don’t know this, because you didn’t give me a chance, but I would have shaken your hand and expressed gratitude that no one was hurt.

I would have asked for your insurance information, and, if you were uninsured, I would have helped find a solution. If you’re a teen and you were driving your parents’ car and worried about the fallout, I would have offered to make the phone call for you.

As we gathered up the glass and broken bits, I would have asked about your family and told you about mine. I likely would have made a dumb joke about my daughter’s small Drivers Ed dent in the bumper that pre-dates your late night automotive side-hug.

Maybe you don’t even live in the area. Maybe you were passing through, staying at a local hotel or visiting a friend. If so, we could have played the who-do-you-know game and been reminded what a small world we live in.

Most importantly, I would have thanked you for being honest and for doing the right thing. I would’ve told you that the world is too cynical and in my experience, most people are inherently good. There are exceptions, naturally, but most people thrive when we assume the best in them.

The words still ring in my ears. “People just aren’t honest anymore.”

With all due respect to these fine police officers, I disagree. I think the planet is brimming with good, honest people who far outnumber those who cheat, lie and steal.

We were raised by them.

We work with them.

They’re our neighbors.

They’re everywhere!

Look – how many times in my own life have I needed a few more minutes than most to choose the right? Plenty.

It’s never too late to do the right thing. And just because it’s the oldest cliché in the book doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Thankfully, life isn’t scored by the halftime tally. We’ve all got until the final whistle.

Look me up on Facebook, drop me an email or knock on my office door and we’ll do our very best to work it out. We can even compare all the dumb things we’ve done. I bet my list is longer than yours.

“People just aren’t honest anymore.”

Malarkey – let’s prove them wrong.

Sincerely,

Jason

You can read more of Jason's article HERE:

Every Mother needs to read this!

I loved this article by Jason on the battle of PORNOGRAPHY! I truly believe we need to do all we can to help our children and families from the effects of it in our homes and lives! If we won't protect our homes and families...who will?
 Nothing good comes from it!

Good night dear friends!

Why my kids’ computer is in the living room

While visiting our home for the first time, a friend noticed the iMac sitting on a small desk in the corner of our very open living room. “That’s an interesting spot for a computer. Is that temporary?”

I laughed. “If by temporary you mean until all of my kids move out of the house, then yes.”

“But it’s so out of place.”

“Maybe,” I answered, “but you know what’s even more about of place? Pornography.”

As he nodded and the gears seemed to turn, I explained the painful lesson of another friend. Several years ago he discovered that his son’s first exposure to online pornography hadn’t come in a locker room, school bus or behind the backyard shed, but in his child’s own bedroom on the other side of a leaky web filter.

Think it can’t happen to you?

According to the 2014 Annual Report produced by Covenant Eyes, nine out of 10 boys and six out of 10 girls were exposed to pornography before the age of 18. Even the unintentional exposure is shocking: 28 percent of 16- to 17-year-olds have accidentally stumbled upon it. Perhaps most tragically, 15 percent of boys and 9 percent of girls have seen child pornography.

Yes, it can happen in your home.

Increasingly, parents equip children with desktop computers or laptops and don’t hesitate to give them privacy by setting them up behind closed doors in their bedrooms. Even with the best Internet filtering systems money can buy, that’s like placing pornographic magazines or movies on their bedroom bookshelf and hoping they don’t become curious.

Crossing our fingers isn’t enough.

Just do the research; no filter is flawless or fool proof. There is no greater barrier than the transparency that comes from computers being used in the high traffic areas of your home. As the axiom goes, often attributed to former Commandant of the U.S. Coast Guard Thad Allen, “Transparency breeds self-correcting behavior.”

Every home should set it own rules, but in our house, my children ask permission before using any piece of technology. Even my 15-year-old daughter asks permission for every single song or app download to her iPod.

Is it a bottleneck? Absolutely. Isn’t a little inconvenience a small price to pay for the safety of a child? And it isn’t just about inappropriate content – it’s about time. Parents should see what kids are doing on the computer and for how long.

Given that virtually every device in your home but your toaster has Wi-Fi capability, it’s good to have boundaries for things like smart phones and tablets. Carefully consider in your own family whether it makes sense to ban the laptop from your child’s room, but permit the tablet. In our home, none of my children are permitted to use smart phones or iPads in their bedrooms.

If you’re longing to be featured on the cover of Interior Design Monthly or participate in your local Parade of Homes, the ugly computer in the living room might be a deal breaker.

On the other hand, life is priorities. I doubt many have developed pornography addictions at a computer in the living room with the kids watching the Disney Channel a few feet away or playing Legos on the floor.

Let’s be blunt: Your computer in a public place is not the perfect solution. Unless you’re ready to unplug from the world entirely and move to the mountains, there isn’t one. We must remain vigilant and never let down our guard, no matter where the technology is placed. But this is a start worth the sacrifice.

Some may read this and think to themselves, “We can’t protect our kids forever.”

They’re right. But while we can, we should.

No, we must.
I read the article Here: