#Calling him the worst thing in the universe. A scourge upon reality. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

internaljiujitsu · 4 years

Text

Negrito: Race In The Latino Community

I had lots of nicknames growing up. Bolita (little ball) when I was a toddler because I was round. Jun (short for Junior), because I share a name with my dad. But the monikers I heard most from my mom and extended family were Negro (black), Negrito (little black) or Negrolo (black something or other). Notice a pattern?

As the darkest person in my Puerto Rican family, that’s how my loved ones would address me. It’s a common practice in Latino cultures. Identifying someone by their color, frowned upon in politically correct, modern society, has morphed into a term of endearment among racially diverse Latinos. Or so it seems.

Despite the wide range of hues within Latino culture that would suggest an evolved view of skin color, these societies are just as racist as any dusty mid western town full of red cap wearing “Americans.”

When a black South African, Zonzibini Tunzi, beat out Ms. Puerto Rico for the ridiculous Ms. Universe crown, the supervisor for the Island’s Education Department called the winner, “La prima de Shaka Zulu.” It means Shaka Zulu’s cousin. You know, the legendary African military leader.

In case you were wondering, there is no relation.

In 1937, Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo had forty thousand Hatitian migrants massacred to “whiten” the population of the Caribbean nation. Sixty years later, every Dominican in the world hailed the dark skinned Sammy Sosa as one of their own when he chased Babe Ruth’s legendary home run record.

And now — twenty years after that — Sammy Sosa is white.

In the eighties, my friends and family referred to African American people as “Morenos” (Dark Skinned) or “Cocolos” (a term originating with a dark skin group of people in The Dominican Republic.) We were all living in the same impoverished, dilapidated neighborhood together, but never felt the same. There was always an us against them attitude. We often felt as if we needed to fight for respect within our own neighborhood while buying into media perceptions of what it meant to be black and brown. And what we saw around us everyday did little to give us faith in ourselves or our darker brethren.

But I could blend in anywhere — while feeling comfortable nowhere. I belonged to a light skinned (except for me and my dad) Puerto Rican family growing up in a black neighborhood but I found myself relating more to white culture. While the Cosby Show was number one, I watched Family Ties. While kids were listening to Chuck D or KRS 1, I was head banging to Guns and Roses. I hated baggy clothes, preferring tight jeans and t-shirts. But I didn’t feel like I was rebelling - I just liked what I liked, and got plenty of shit for it.

To me, the Cosby show was bullshit. That’s not how it was for the black and brown people I knew. It was fantasy. Family Ties I had seen play out before my own eyes at white friends’ homes with cookie cutter lives that seemed perfect (spoiler alert: they weren’t). I wanted what they had so badly — peace of mind and enthusiasm for the future — and I wasn’t finding it where I lived.

I also hated my brother at the time (who I love to death) and wanted to be the opposite of him. He was a thug who always gave my parents headaches. He set a terrible example for his little brother while constantly asserting the fact that he was six years older and wiser. Once I stopped idolizing him, I detested everything he stood for. He has long since proven me and the old neighborhood wrong.

It took me years to become as secure as I am, but even now I get shit from people in my life. I’ve embraced my heritage and have ensured that my five year old daughter does the same. But when my parents hear my daughter speak proper Spanish without a Puerto Rican accent, they make fun of us. She’s been attending a Spanish speaking school since she was two. Her mother and I have attempted to be consistent with the dialect we use with her. That means she actually rolls her r’s and doesn’t sound like she’s gonna hock a loogie when she says “carro” or “perro.” My family thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

But it’s not just family. In a recent conversion with an old friend who had just retired from the police department, he called me an “Oreo.” Black on the outside and white on the inside. This guy is in his fifties. I chuckled when he said it, but haven’t returned his calls since.

The thing is, I know he was just fucking around. He himself is of mixed race and sounds like an Irish American with a Brooklyn accent, but looks Japanese. But there is something about police perception of dark skin people, how we are supposed to sound, that bugged me about what he said.

There’s too much chuckling that goes on. Too much nodding. A former close friend of mine, who is half Puerto Rican and married to a dark skinned Dominican woman, once complained that a guy he knew had “niggered up” his car ( because he added shiny rims, window tint and other bells and whistles). It wasn’t the first time I heard him use the word. Each time it turned my stomach. I didn’t get it — I was his friend. Both me and his wife would have been denied access to white bathrooms and water fountains. Just because we did not identify with black culture didn’t mean we wouldn’t be exposed to the same bigotry and hatred. What the fuck? It was too much for me to overlook. We haven’t spoken in years.

There was an ugly song I remember from the old neighborhood back in the day. There were two versions:

“A fight, a fight, a nigger and a white, the black don’t win, we all jump in.”

Or,

“A fight, a fight, a nigger and a white, the white don’t win, we all jump in.”

Which one you sang depended on who you were with. Which “us” against which “them?”

I remember, as a teenager, going to the Sunset Park pool in Brooklyn with a bunch of Latino boys. On the way home, there was a group of black kids walking ahead of us. The group I was with, only one of whom was my close friend, started taunting them. They hurled racial epitaphs and threats at the black kids for being in their neighborhood. I was silent and utterly confused.

As a kid, it was actually my one close white friend, Jesse, who was the least racist kid I knew. He might have been the most genuine friend I ever had. I stopped returning his calls because I didn’t trust his friendship. Not because of anything he did — My negative view of myself kept me from believing that he really wanted to be my friend. Why would he? He was from a great family that lived in a beautiful house and valued the things that mattered to me but weren’t for me.

When I hung out with Jesse’s friends, the chip on my shoulder was always ready to bash someone over the head. At a party in some kid’s basement, someone spilled a drink. The host, an Italian kid that I didn’t know, asked me to help clean it up. I told him to go fuck himself. Then he asked me, “What are you?”

The party ended when I dragged him down a staircase and started beating him down before being pulled off and barely escaping the awaiting mob. I am my brother’s brother, after all.

So even though I felt like a Martian in my own neighborhood and knew I wanted better, I didn’t think I belonged on the other side either. I was stuck in this bizarre place where the only role models I had were Roberto Clemente, Eric Estrada and Slater. I never knew anyone else successful that looked like me. At the same time it seemed everyone around me was determined to make sure I never forgot where I belonged.

When I was twelve years old, I refused to attend my zone school because it had a reputation for being the worst in the city. It wasn’t my parents that refused, it was me. I told my mom and dad I would not go to junior high unless they transferred me. What if I hadn’t done that?

As it turns out, the school I ended up going to (because my dad used a friend’s address) was in a good part of town and was the best public education I ever experienced. The work was so advanced that I went from being one of the smartest kids in class to struggling. I actually had to study — something I never had to do much of and found excruciatingly boring. At that new school, I felt like the bad boy. The outcast. The kid that didn’t quite belong and couldn’t keep up.

My grades suffered that year, and when I transferred to a another school, I wasn’t placed in the gifted program for the first time in my scholastic career. I petitioned the principal and pleaded my case, explaining the difficult circumstances of the previous year and promising that I would shine in his “7SP“ class, which got to skip the eight grade and go straight to “9SP” in the fall. Like when I refused to go to that war zone of a school, I once again stood up for my own education. I was thirteen years old.

The work that year was far easier than what I had learned at the other school. I breezed through. The kind of disparity that existed between the two public middle schools I attended is indicative of the subpar education that children of color receive within what is supposed to be one school system. Kids in bad schools aren’t exposed to the same world that their crosstown rivals are and are ill prepared for the reality that awaits — be it a college admissions exam or the job market. Those who do not take it upon themselves to find opportunities for advancement can’t rely on working parents with little time or education to advocate for them. They are left with shitty choices and no one to champion their cause.

The scourge of poverty and racism is further sullied by the structural hierarchy of “shade” in communities of color. In the Autobiography of Frederick Douglass, the trailblazing abolitionist and former slave writes of the preferential treatment lighter slaves received, even among the others in bondage. Proximity to whiteness, then and now, is proximity to power and privilege.

In the late 1700’s, Spain instituted the process of gracias al sacar. Mixed race people could purchase a decree that converted them to white. One such royal decree granted to Cuban Manuel Baez in 1760 says that it erased “the defect that you suffer from birth and leave you able and capable as if you did not have it.” Ain’t that some shit.

Alice Walker coined the term “colorism” in her book, “In Search of Our Mother’s Garden”. She describes “prejudicial or preferential treatment of same-race people based solely on color.” Research has shown that skin tone affects the outcome of job interviews, court cases and elections. This is not a secret among people of color. They grow up believing that the whiter they look, the easier they’ll have it.

How does that make a kid feel who wants so badly to get ahead in life but has the mirror, the media and the world outside his window saying he doesn’t stand a chance? As if even after you do all the work and get to the finish line, the tape will be pulled back another few feet each time you stretch to get across. The life you want will be just out of reach, no matter how long or how fast you run.

There has been a delusion among some that because we’ve had a black president, hip hope rules the world and the Rock is the world’s biggest movie star, racism doesn’t exist anymore. There are people of color in positions of power and prestige, but they are few and far between. There just hasn’t been enough time for all the seeds of opportunity that were only planted a generation or two or three ago to compete with those who have seemingly inherited an eternity of racial privilege. Just because so many people fought for and finally earned some basic human rights doesn’t mean the playing field has been leveled.

The destruction of the long standing racial hierarchy is a challenging ongoing project that the world must decide to address together. The perpetuation of negative stereotypes of black and brown people is not only meant to strike fear in every suburban household, but to reinforce in the mind of the oppressed their role in society. Centuries of subjugation have purposefully convinced young men and women of color that they are born with an inherent disadvantage. Then, once their will to fight was clear, the oppressors barked that those they once lorded over should be grateful to simply be out of their chains.

It is up to people of color, whether African American, Latino, West Indian, or any other subdivision of “black” that may exist, to burn down the old models. The carefully calculated lie that “whiteness” is more attractive, desirable or indicative of ability must be deleted from our main frame. We must believe we are just as capable, because we obviously are. We must know that we have the opportunities, even if we have to work harder for them. And we cannot fight among ourselves, to the delight of those that would sooner see us dead, in jail or all together erased from the annals of history.

With dog whistles long having been discarded in favor of bull horns, the paper thin veil has been lifted from our union. In a country already in pieces, further division because of infighting is not something people of color, no matter their shade, can afford.

#race #racism #latino #self esteem #stereotypes #mindset

2 notes · View notes

fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 5 years

Photo

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/where-is-the-outrage-for-us/

"Where is the outrage for us?"

MARLBOROUGH, Mass. (AP) — The moms meet in a parking lot overlooking the little white funeral home and watch the mourners drifting toward the chapel doors — a familiar scene, beginning again.

Cheryl Juaire taps nervously on her steering wheel.

“Are we ready?” she asks the two other mothers leaning into the window of her SUV.

The wake starting inside is for a stranger, another young man consumed by the great American plague. These women drove nearly two hours to shepherd his mother into their club, its thousands of members all bound by the same hell: They are parents of the dead from addiction, tasked with the unnatural act of burying their children at a rate unprecedented in modern American history.

“I’m going to stay in the car,” one mother says. “I just can’t go in.”

“I get it,” Cheryl assures her.

Cheryl, the leader of this unhappy welcoming committee, fishes a sympathy card out of her purse. She bought some in bulk not long ago and was stunned to find this was the last one left.

Each card equals another set of parents, their lives clawed apart by the opioid epidemic. Many are broke from paying for treatment or raising their grandchildren at retirement age. Some have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.

The chaos of addiction consumed their lives. Then the chaos ended with a funeral, and the quiet proved far worse.

Cheryl reads newspapers hunting for obituaries and searches social media for the newly bereaved, to invite them into the fold. You are not alone in guilt and grief and regret and rage, she needs them all to know. It has become her own kind of addiction, a habit to quiet the demons.

Her son, Corey Merrill, overdosed on heroin at 23 years old in 2011, just as the crisis was turning into catastrophe. She had thought using drugs was a failure of morality and gumption. Back then much of America thought the same — that addiction was merely a bad choice.

So, no, she had told Corey, he couldn’t stay with her because she hadn’t raised him that way, and he’d slept instead on a park bench.

Then he died alone, and she slowly arrived at the sickening realization that addiction is a disease she hadn’t understood, and because she hadn’t understood it, she couldn’t save him. She didn’t even know he needed saving.

Now this is her penance: wake after wake, mother after mother, trying to spare them the solitary torment that almost killed her.

Cheryl straightens the gold cross around her neck, smooths her bob, freshly dyed chestnut brown to hide hints of gray, and climbs out of the car.

“That mom gave birth to that child,” she says. “When those doors close today, and they put her son in the ground, it’s not the end for her. It’s just the beginning.”

___

Earlier in the week, four bereaved mothers who make up the board of Cheryl’s nonprofit met poolside at one of their homes on a suburban cul-de-sac in Wrentham. A white sign was staked out front in the grass, with #2069 printed in black. That’s the number of people opioids killed in Massachusetts in just one year, one state’s slice of the more than 400,000 who have died in the U.S. since the epidemic began in 1999.

Overdoses now kill more each year than guns or breast cancer or AIDS at its peak. They kill more than the entire Vietnam War. They kill nearly 200 people a day on average, the equivalent of a 9/11 every few weeks. “One analogy that can sometimes get people’s attention is that it’s like an airplane full of commuters crashing every single day,” one mother offered as the group struggled to somehow depict the magnitude of their mission.

And yet it feels to these mothers that the world is getting tired of hearing about all their dead kids.

They led a campaign of thousands across America to send President Donald Trump photos of their children, all mailed last Feb. 10 to reach him by Valentine’s Day. They expected the president to say, or tweet, that he heard them and would do something. They expected media coverage from coast to coast — that people would look into their children’s eyes and be so enraged they’d march in the streets.

But there were no marches for them. That Valentine’s Day, 17 people were gunned down at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida, consuming political and public attention. Cheryl grieves for the parents who lost a child there. But she did the math, and that many people will die from drugs by the time this three-hour board meeting concludes.

“Where is the outrage for us?” she asks. “Our kids are still dying, and the only thing I can do is try to pick up the pieces for the moms once they do.”

Her organization’s official name is “Team Sharing.” But she usually just says: “My Moms.”

When she started this group on Facebook three years ago there were only seven members, all mothers near her home in Marlborough, Massachusetts. Then another parent joined and another, as overdoses became the leading cause of death for young Americans, dragging down the nation’s overall life expectancy three years in a row for the first time in a century.

Now Cheryl, 60, begins each day at dawn in her recliner, before her part-time job as a receptionist at a church, studying a 25-page document, single-spaced, that lists the hundreds of Team Sharing members and details about their children. Some on her list have lost two children to drugs. One lost three. One lost four.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, Cheryl got a call from a mother who had already buried one addicted son, and she was screaming, incomprehensible. Cheryl sped to her house to find that her second son had overdosed in a bedroom upstairs. The paramedics were still there, and Cheryl held this mother as they carried his body out into the coroner’s truck.

Many parents of the dead try to channel their grief into change. The nation knows how to fix this, they insist; all that’s missing is the will. “Let the junkies die,” they’ve heard people say, even though the American Medical Association, the American Society of Addiction Medicine and the surgeon general all define addiction as a chronic brain disease that is, like some cancers and diabetes, fueled by a mix of genetics, behaviors and environment. The surgeon general notes that unlike those with cancer or diabetes, only about 10 percent of those with addiction get effective treatment.

This coalition of mothers believes the epidemic is unfolding much like AIDS did, with a society indifferent toward people believed to have brought their deaths upon themselves. That disease killed unabated by the thousands until masses started protesting.

So these parents testify before Congress, tell their stories in school gymnasiums and cry on local television news. They proselytize at rallies, warning that any family could be next, and see crowds filled with people who’ve already learned that the hard way. Cheryl led a picket outside Purdue Pharma, whose mass marketing of the powerful painkiller OxyContin helped unleash the crisis.

“What more do we have to do?” she wonders.

Cheryl doesn’t like to talk about politics. Both Republicans and Democrats have failed to stop this, she says. She voted for Trump, who declared a public health emergency in 2017, and remains hopeful that he’ll keep his promise to end the scourge.

Last year, Congress passed a legislative package designed to combat the crisis and appropriated $8.5 billion, a figure experts say is a welcome step but far short of the sustained funding required to build the necessary treatment infrastructure. During the AIDS crisis, the federal government increased funding by tens of billions, says Keith Humphreys, a Stanford University professor and drug policy expert. “The opioid epidemic is as serious as that one and will require similar resources.”

It overwhelms Cheryl to think of all the things the nation needs to do to solve this, and so she tries to focus on what she knows.

She knows parents with no money left to bury their children; the ashes sit in cardboard boxes. So the first agenda item at her board meeting this week is to decide how much to donate for headstones and urns. Her board members grimace.

There’s Cindy Wyman, who used to knock on drug dealers’ doors carrying a picture of her daughter. And Lynn Wencus, whose son emptied her bank account and pawned her wedding ring and still she borrowed against her 401(k) to pay for treatment. She once drove him to buy heroin because he was desperate to get into a detox facility that would only take patients with drugs in their system. She sat next to him as he shot up, holding overdose reversal medication and weeping.

“That’s what we were willing to do to save our kids,” Lynn says. “And even at that, it wasn’t enough.”

They dreaded the phone call for years. For Cheryl, it came in the middle of the night, from her oldest son, Bobby, a police officer.

“Mom, Corey’s dead,” he said. Cheryl felt her knees buckle.

That call is her marker in time: There was her normal life before it and her life now, which includes an unwanted expertise in burying young Americans.

Maybe, she suggests to the board, they should give parents $500 to help bury their first child and $1,000 for their second?

Lynn rubs her temples and groans. “Second child,” she repeats. “Oh God.”

“I know,” Cheryl says. And then, before she could stop it, her mind wandered down into the basement of a funeral home and she was shopping for caskets seven years ago. On that worst day of her life, her oldest son, the officer, collapsed weeping. Her middle son, Sean, was still addicted to the “happy pills” Corey had introduced him to. And Cheryl felt helpless to fix any of it.

She had stood at her son’s wake, shaking hands, smiling awkwardly — unaware that the fog would lift and the reality would crush her until she wished she would die, too.

When Corey was born, Cheryl had pulled his bassinet next to her bed and slept with her hand on his back, counting his heartbeats. She’d had her first two sons young, but Corey was planned. She always feared she would lose him.

“I just felt life was never going to be good for me,” she says. “And then something so good came along.”

Corey’s father left when the boy was 5, and for a few years it was just Cheryl and her sons. Corey slept in her bed every night. Four years later, she met Peter Juaire, a firefighter, and was smitten.

With a new husband there were new rules to follow; Corey was a jokester, always playing pranks, and didn’t like rules. He had been a Boy Scout and Little Leaguer, then he dropped out of high school and it all spiraled quickly. Cheryl saw him for the first time in shackles when he was arrested on a drug charge at 18. “That’s my baby,” she wailed, and the guards had to hold her up. Then he was in and out of detoxes and jails and called her sometimes to say he had nowhere to go.

Peter, a recovering alcoholic who got sober 31 years ago, thought Corey had to hit bottom, so Cheryl told Corey he couldn’t stay with them. Now when she envisions her son sometimes, he’s sleeping on a bench.

“Do you ever regret it?” she asked her husband once. No, he responded. Not that part. But he had made other mistakes long before, when Corey was young, and they didn’t get along.

Corey eventually went to rehab and moved into a sober living house, and Cheryl thought the nightmare was behind them — until the call came.

At first, she found herself going to the cemetery alone to lie down on his grave. She liked to imagine his bones and worried she was going insane.

She constructed a shrine by her front door, with piles of things she found and thought Corey had sent as signs: feathers, flowers, quarters.

She obsessed over whether he’d died believing he disappointed her and prayed he might come to her in a dream. He did once; she was washing dishes and turned from the sink and there he was, smiling, his baby daughter on his hip. Then “poof, he was gone,” and she feared that her sadness scared him away.

She wasn’t suicidal, exactly; she just didn’t want to live. She started drinking. She walked out onto the porch drunk one night and looked up at the stars and was overcome with guilt for seeing such beauty when her son would never see another sky. She collapsed to the ground and laid there begging God to kill her, until her husband came out, picked her up and put her in bed.

“I was watching her go away from me,” remembers Peter. “The road she was going on, I didn’t see us lasting.”

She heard from friends less and less until she stopped hearing from them at all. Years passed in isolation, until an invitation arrived to a dinner party with seven mothers whose children all died from overdoses. They sat talking for hours and confessed: They had felt compelled to sleep on their children’s graves, collected feathers they thought were sent from heaven, and begged God to kill them, too.

Cheryl went home that night and soon started her group.

“You’re not insane,” the moms tell each other.

Some tattoo their children’s ashes into their flesh. Some see mediums to try to connect with them. They share pictures of the sky and swear they see their children’s faces in the clouds.

Many worry people will forget their children or prefer to pretend they never existed, so Cheryl begins each morning acknowledging the parents whose kids were born that day, and the ones who died on it. She feels their rhythms: The first year is numbness, the second pure hell. She can tell which moms have been drinking, which have stopped leaving the house. “She’s a hard one,” she’ll say, making a mental note to keep a close watch.

She does this from the moment she wakes up until she falls asleep, sometimes phone in hand. Her husband tells her he’s worried it consumes her, but she shrugs and smiles at him.

Staying busy with other mothers means she doesn’t have to think about what she didn’t do for her own son.

___

All of that is what brought Cheryl to the little white funeral home in New Hampshire, a state with the nation’s fifth-highest rate of overdose deaths.

She had called in the troops: Cyndi Wood and Kay Scarpone, mothers of Marines who came home from the service changed men. All three women grew up in the same town, but they were never friends until heroin claimed their sons and lashed them together.

“All these beautiful lives,” moans Cyndi, who decides she can’t bear another wake and retreats back to the car. She pulls out a picture of her 20-year-old son Brandon, his cheeks rosy and his shirt collared. She was at the cemetery placing flowers on his grave recently and met another mother, visiting her son who had died of cancer. The woman asked Cyndi how her son died, and before she thought about it she blurted out, “An accident.” The instinct surprised her, like she’d absorbed the world’s stigma that being the mother of a drug addict is better kept a shameful secret.

“You feel alone when you lose a child like this,” she says.

Cheryl draws close to Kay as they walk together into the chapel, and she drops the sympathy card in a basket. She avoids settling her eyes on the photos of the person this young man had been or his wide-eyed child or the mourners shaking their heads because it didn’t have to end this way. The dam had broken at a recent funeral, and Cheryl had left the chapel sobbing.

“Break down later,” she tells herself, because she is supposed to be the strong one to show that life can exist after this.

Little is known about the long-term psychological implications for the hundreds of thousands of mothers and fathers who have buried their children since the opioid epidemic began. Grassroots organizations for these families are sporadic, funded mostly by bake sales and 5k races and spread out in pockets of the country at random, usually where someone like Cheryl lost a child and decided to start one.

The Partnership for Drug-Free Kids last year tried to drum up support on Capitol Hill for $10 million to establish a family support program so parents would not have to navigate the misery of addiction and death alone, says Marcia Lee Taylor, the organization’s chief policy officer. It got no traction.

“Who is saving us?” Cheryl wonders. “Nobody.”

Inside the little chapel, she folds her arms around this grieving mother. There is an electricity between women who’ve lost their children that no one else can feel, Cheryl swears, like they can sense each other in crowds.

“I shouldn’t be burying my son,” the woman says.

“You are not alone. We lost our kids, too,” Cheryl tells her, and the mother nods.

“We’re not going to have anyone left,” she says.

___

On the drive back home, Cheryl marvels at the sunny sky. Beautiful, she says. Maybe it’s a gift from Corey. Then she checks her phone and frowns. She was hoping for a message from another mother who recently lost her child. A mutual friend had asked Cheryl to call her, and she’s fretting now because she hasn’t heard back.

Two years ago, a member of her group told her about a mother who had just lost a son. Cheryl considered cold-calling her but didn’t want to intrude. The woman killed herself two days later, on her son’s birthday.

Regret tormented Cheryl — “What if I had called her first? Would that have made a difference?” — so she put the questions to her group on their Facebook page. They told her not to feel responsible; some told her she had saved their lives. “I know how this woman was feeling,” wrote one mother who had lost two children. “We don’t want to be on this journey.” A few months later, that mother killed herself, too.

These are the stakes for Cheryl, the keeper of so many parents’ grief. As she left the funeral home, dozens of them were starting to gather at a group member’s lake house for a potluck like any other, except the cars outside had bumper stickers or license plates commemorating lives cut short: “Jenn 29,” ″Joey 22.” And nametags read: “Debbie, Jay’s mom,” ″Lois, Robbie’s mom.”

Team Sharing’s annual party is one of Cheryl’s favorite days of the year. But to get there, she has to drive past the apartment building where her son died.

The first time she’d absentmindedly followed the GPS and suddenly there it was. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening,” she thought, and then: “Oh God, if only I’d understood. Why didn’t I spend more time with him? Ask him what was going on in his mind? Why? Why? Why?”

Now, as she passes the building again, she can’t resist the urge to pull into the parking lot. There’s the dumpster where Peter had hastily thrown the bedsheets before he let her go inside. A second-story window leads to the bedroom where Cheryl had curled on a bare mattress, imagining the imprint of Corey’s body. She remembers there were needles everywhere, even though she’d always thought he was scared of needles.

“When I’m sitting here and I’m all alone and I’m looking up at it, I don’t want to know, but I do want to know, but I don’t want to know what his last thoughts were. Was he in pain? Did he feel it? Did he know he was dying? Did he call my name?” she asks.

Most of the time, with the help of her moms, she manages not to think about it. And she has reasons to be hopeful.

Last May, personalized letters began arriving in her members’ mailboxes from the White House; they take that as a sign that the president was moved by all their Valentines. Her middle son, Sean, is in recovery and helps others struggling to get clean. Bobby, the officer, found a letter Corey had sent him and got his signature tattooed on his arm; the permanence helped him find peace.

Corey’s daughter, 4 months old when he died, is 8 and has her father’s green eyes. Cheryl takes her to the cemetery on his birthdays, sets up a little table, and they sing and eat cake. And her marriage survived. Peter accepts the shrine by the front door and her need to spend all day on the phone, talking to her moms.

She shakes her head to dislodge the tears. “OK,” she says. “I get to go to a party.”

In the SUV with a bumper sticker of her son’s name, Cheryl heads for the lake house. As she scribbles on her nametag, “Cheryl, Corey’s mom,” and stamps it to her heart, another mother steps out to take a phone call.

Three years ago, when a nurse at the hospital told this woman her son was dead from an overdose, she’d begged her to rip out her heart and give it to him. Now, her other son was on the phone, out of his mind. He just relapsed, he tells her, and he worries he won’t make it this time.

The mother tells a friend to thank Cheryl, and she quietly slips away.

___

Click here for more on Juaire’s group, Team Sharing, and here for additional resources on addiction and recovery. Go to this Q&A to learn more about the toll of the opioid crisis in America and the government’s response. For more in AP’s Left Behind series, see: https://apnews.com/TheLeftBehind

___

AP National Writer Claire Galofaro has reported for years on the opioid crisis across America. Follow her on Twitter at @clairegalofaro or reach her at [email protected]

Source link

#breaking news #Business #Education #entertainment #Health #health insurance news usa #health news united states #law #News #news online #Politics #sports #technology #travel #U.S. news #us public health news #weather #World news #Health News

0 notes

live4thelord · 5 years

Text

MSGR. CHARLES POPE

Satan is Real

Once again it is necessary to reiterate the true, Catholic, and biblical teaching on Satan and demons. Contrary to what Superior General of the Society of Jesus Fr. Arturo Sosa stated in a recent interview, the Church does not teach that Satan is merely a symbol or an idea. He is not the “personification of evil”; he is a person, an individual creature, a fallen angelic being (as are all demons). Scripture uses personal pronouns in referring to Satan and demons (e.g., he, him, they). The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms that Satan is an existing creature, a fallen angel who is envious of us and is a murderer from the beginning:

Behind the disobedient choice of our first parents lurks a seductive voice, opposed to God, which makes them fall into death out of envy. Scripture and the Church’s Tradition see in this being a fallen angel, called “Satan” or the “devil.” The Church teaches that Satan was at first a good angel, made by God: The devil and the other demons were indeed created naturally good by God, but they became evil by their own doing (CCC # 391).

Scripture witnesses to the disastrous influence of the one Jesus calls “a murderer from the beginning,” who would even try to divert Jesus from the mission received from his Father. “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.” In its consequences the gravest of these works was the mendacious seduction that led man to disobey God (CCC # 394).

This is Church teaching. Let no one be misled by the Fr. Sosa’s erroneous statements or by the implications that follow from his unfortunate, repeated remarks. Let no one be so unwise as to dismiss the truth that we have an enemy who is very much alive who commands legions of fallen angels. We must accept this as a definitive teaching of the faith and be sober about it.

Any exorcist or anyone who has ever assisted in an exorcism can well affirm Satan’s reality and his deep hatred for humanity and all that pertains to God.

As a more extended lesson, I’d like to point out some things I have written before about certain teachings and cautions that come from the Rite of Exorcism.

The Rite of Exorcism presupposes the Catholic teaching that Satan and all demons are persons. They are addressed as persons and commanded to reveal their names, ranks, and other pertinent information. These angelic persons respond, often reluctantly and with fury at first, but later, as their power is broken, with cries and whimpers. The exorcist is clearly addressing an angelic person, a fallen angel who then reacts and responds.

As he is dealing with a being who is both a creature of God and a fallen angelic person, the exorcist must find a balance. Sadly, he must usually inflict pain upon demons in order to drive them out. This is done through the prayers of the Rite of Exorcism and through other things recommended by the rite such as the use of holy water, the use of relics, the touch of a stole, and the use of the Holy Cross.

The exorcist must be careful not to hate demons or harbor unjust anger toward them. If he were to do so, they would have him; he would be drawn into their territory. If they can get him to hate and have vengeful anger, he will be theirs, little better than they save for the possibility that he can still repent.

Hence, the exorcist and any who would pray for deliverance from demons for themselves or others, do well to stay inside the norms of the Church and Scripture. These norms warn and set limits for those who would confront demons, lest they stray by pride or anger.

What are some of these norms? Here are just a few, but they are properly cautionary to be sure:

A lay person should never undertake to drive out demons except by the following simple formula: “I command you, all evil spirits, to leave me at once in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord.” At no time should a lay person ever engage a demon in conversation, ask questions, or in any way seek information.

Priests who only engage in minor exorcisms are similarly limited. While they are permitted to use more elaborate imprecatory prayers (found in the Manuals of Minor Exorcisms), priests are not to go beyond the commands therein. They are not to ask questions or to demand names or signs from demons.

Only appointed exorcists, delegated by the bishop, may or should ask things such as these: names and numbers of demons, their time of entry, why they possessed the individual, their rank, and so forth. The rite makes clear that only necessary questions should be asked. Other extraneous information is both unnecessary and potentially harmful.

Within the formal Rite of Exorcism, an exorcist does well to stick to the formulas, expressions, and norms of the rite. Banter, insulting language, and toe-to-toe debate are to be avoided. Good exorcists indicate that returning to the prayers of the rite is essential when demons seek to engage in debate, ridicule, and/or diversionary talk. Obmutesce pater mendacii (Be silent, father of lies) is a quick command from the rite to order the demons to be silent, and it is a good way to refuse to enter into pointless conversation.

Scripture also attests to the need to refrain from reviling demons:

For even Michael the archangel, when he disputed with the devil and argued about the body of Moses, did not dare pronounce against him a reviling judgment, but said, “The Lord rebuke you!” (Jude 1:9)

Further, hate and ridicule of any person (angelic or human) whom God has created is an ungodly attitude. Scripture says,

For you O Lord love all things that are and loathe nothing that you have made; for you would not fashion what you hate (Wisdom 11:24).

Therefore, anyone who confronts demons or suffers their oppression is warned that hatred, unjust anger, reviling, and ridiculing, is no way to fight them, for if we do so we become like them.

That said, exorcists and priests must often use strong language approved by the minor and major prayers of exorcism, most of which are drawn from Scripture or Sacred Tradition.

Consider, for example, the following rebuke of Satan from Scripture:

How are you fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How are you cut down to the ground, who did weaken the nations! For you have said in your heart, “I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the farthest sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High.” Yet you shall be brought down to Sheol, to the depths of the lake of fire (Is 14:12-15).

These verses speak truth. They do not revile; they state what happened and point to Lucifer’s prideful fall.

The Rite of Exorcism has collected many descriptions from Scripture and Tradition. They are not intended to ridicule or revile but rather to remind Satan of who and what he has chosen to become. They remind him of his pride, his destruction by God’s justice, his ultimate fate, and the many ways he seeks to harm us. Consider, then, some of the “titles” and descriptions of Satan drawn from both the old and new rites of exorcism:

Enemy of the faith

Foe of the human race

Carrier of death

Robber of life

Shirker of justice

Root of evil

Fomenter of vice

Seducer of men

Traitor of the nations

Instigator of envy

Font of avarice

Source of discord

Exciter of sorrows

Transgressor

Seducer full of deceit and lies

Enemy of virtue

Persecutor of the innocent

Horrible dragon

Prince of accursed murder

Author of incest

Leader of sacrilege

Teacher of all negative action

Teacher of heretics

Inventor of every obscenity

Hateful one

Scourge

Unclean spirit

Infernal adversary

Evil dragon

Inventor and teacher of every lie

Enemy of man’s salvation

Prince of this world

Deceiver of the human race

Ancient foe of mankind

Father of lies

Evil dragon

Cunning serpent

(I have compiled a pdf containing a list of these in both Latin and English here: Titles of Satan from the Rite of Exorcism.)

Thus, whether driving out Satan in a major exorcism or seeking to expel his oppression in a minor exorcism, all are cautioned not to stray from the understandings and descriptions of Satan that the Church provides in Scripture and Sacred Tradition. Again, the reason for this is that Satan seeks to draw us into his world of hatred and revilement. Do not go there in your thoughts and surely not in your heart.

It may be hard to accept, but God does not hate Satan. God does not hate even the worst of sinners. Justice requires God to recognize the final disposition of a person (angelic or human). Some are justly permitted to live apart from God’s kingdom in a hellacious parallel universe; that is their permanent choice. But God does not hate fallen angels or fallen humans. God is love, and love does not hate—and neither should we.

We ought to be sober about what sin has done to demons, fallen angels who were once glorious. Now, through the disfigurement of sin, they are in darkness and are horribly contrary to the glory for which they were made. They are to be pitied and kept at a distance. They will not change because angels choose once and for all. Their lies are to be resisted. Though they can still appear as lightsome, it is only for a time, and then their terrifying state of horror and darkness roars forth.

Remember, too, what the Catechism says about Satan’s power and why he permits some limited influence by demons:

The power of Satan is, nonetheless, not infinite. He is only a creature, powerful from the fact that he is pure spirit, but still a creature. He cannot prevent the building up of God’s reign. Although Satan may act in the world out of hatred for God and his kingdom in Christ Jesus, and although his action may cause grave injuries—of a spiritual nature and, indirectly, even of a physical nature—to each man and to society, the action is permitted by divine providence which with strength and gentleness guides human and cosmic history. It is a great mystery that providence should permit diabolical activity, but “we know that in everything God works for good with those who love him” (CCC #395).

Do not be deceived. Satan is real and we must resist him, strong in our faith. However, do not be so terrified that you forget that God, His angels, and the grace He bestows on us are more powerful and that God limits what demons can do. Trust God; call to Him; frequently recite the 91st Psalm. Be sober and watchful and stay distant from the once-glorious fallen angels we rightly call demons.

0 notes

alaruine · 7 years

Quote

Not all experiences in our lives are successful or enjoyable some of them may be painful but useful To light a small candle is better for you than to spend your lifetime cursing the darkness. Do not grieve that you failed as long as you try to stand on your feet again. The more one grows, the more miserable one becomes. The impossible asked: Where do you live? He answered in the dreams of impotent. The beta is devoid of the book is the house without a soul. It is not the strong who always win the war, but the weak who always lose peace. The titles are only a decoration for fools, and the great men do not need to name their names. Who loves loves the tree branches. We do not get peace by war, but with understanding. If justice disappears from the earth, the existence of man no longer has any value. It is not happiness to always work what you want, but to want what you do. The worst thing for a human being to be without work or love. Modesty in women's beauty and virtue in man. Your friend who tells you your mistakes, not those who beautify them to win your satisfaction. Friendship is a well that gets deeper as you take it. Smile a good word without letters. Do not think about the lost, so you do not lose what left. Who is satisfied with the little, will have no issues with hardships. the kind word is a passport to all hearts. If vanity increases lack of pleasure. Conscience is a comforting pillow for comfort. Who implants good reaps gratitude. the beautiful garden is not without snakes. Age is the only thing that the greater the shortage. The hearts are vessels, the lips are closed, the tongues are their keys, so every man shall keep his secret key. Experience is the comb that gives you life when you have lost your hair. Good money server, but he is a corrupt master. The greatness of your mind creates you the chastity, and the greatness of your heart creates you friends. Minute pain hour, and the hour of precise pleasure. There is no need to fear the sound of bullets. The bullet that kills you will not hear her voice. the wife stops rebuke her husbands to answer the phone. If you want to understand the reality of women, look at them when you close your eyes. If you have two loaves, each one, and buy the other flowers. Whoever falls in error is a human being, and whoever insists on him is a demon. Series strength is measured by its weakest link strongly. People can live without air for a few minutes, without water for two weeks, without food for about two months, and without the ideas of countless years. We spend the first half of our lives looking for money, success, fame, and spending the second half looking for doctors. Whoever buys what he does not need to sell what he needs. When people praise people, few believe it, and when they do, everyone believes. Sleeps deeply from someone who has nothing to fear of losing. Marriage comes without warning, as a point of black ink falls on human clothing. There is no failed man, but there is a man who started from the bottom and stayed in it. Money is often wasted, in search of money. If people refrain from talking about themselves and treating others badly, the great majority of people will be dumbfounded. The child has a small life, not knowing that life will play big. Our desires are as young children, the more tolerant we are with her. Choose your words before you speak, and give the choice enough time to mature speech, words like fruits need enough time to mature. Be wary of kareem if you insult him, and if he is deceived, it is wise if you embarrassed him, and foolish if mercy. If you teach a man, you know an individual. If you know a woman, you know a nation. The Orientals did not lose the weakness of power more than the poor of vision. The most laziness is that it makes one work like a lot of work. If the minimum is accepted by one of his loaners, the other's merits, and if you manage to deprive him of his own merits. The best way to overcome difficulties is to break into them. Whoever trusts in the good choice of God is not for him other than God chose for him. Through the science of his uncleanness was not alone, and from Anas with books, Salwa did not destroy him. Be in distress and iniquity, and in the infidels of patience, and in prosperity and thankfulness, and in prayer humbled, and to charity fast. I know, my son, that the place in this world is small, and that it is an arrogance, and a joy in it is a dream, so let it be easy, soon, honest, and a university word: Fear God in all your affairs. Some righteous people said: "I am ashamed of God to see me preoccupied with him and he is coming to me." It is not the body that carries the soul, but the soul that carries the body. I know that your opinion can not accommodate all things, so it is important for him, and that the owner does not sing all the people, so the people of truth are dedicated to it, and that your dignity does not affect the public. Hakim said: Evidence that what is in your hand is not for you, you know that it was before you to others. Who thought of the Yes God, then thought of his shortness in thanksgiving, blush from the question. A little livelihood with the safety of the soul is much more enjoyable with the aches. Your enemy is between your feet and his beloved soldier, but his armor is destroyed, and his rod has escaped. By leaving what does not concern you is what you mean. Hide the flag of the dead, and hide the life-saving action. Repent your Hassadk charity to them. The jewels of morality are revealed by cohabitation. Yes sown ground yourself to the good things. The most likely people are mind and complete them as well as to accompany his days with the prostrate, and his brothers by peace, and before the time of his forgiveness. The incompetent is called Tukla surrender, and the shortness of elation is convinced. The wise man looked at his mind and his mind, and the ignorant saw himself and his eyes. Whoever starts consulting and pleads with discretion, do not make a mistake. He who is sown with the mind of himself is disobedient, and whoever is impressed with his opinion is astray. In life is part of the dead, and to stay a share of the courtyard, and in the youth Diba of the pyramid, and in health of the elements of the sky. Do not fear those who warn, but beware of those who believe. Take Action and lied Hope noted term. The happy from the look of the world as it does not Asttara, and the work of righteousness is not waiting. Sayings and judgment are famous for the knowledge of the river, and the wisdom of the sea, and the scholars around the river roam, and the wise in the midst of the sea are diving, and those who know in the ships of salvation will spy. In school we learn and then face exams, but in life we face exams and then learn lessons. Wisdom is the loss of the believer. Be careful to keep things small about moving forward towards achieving your goals as you set for yourself, and remember that your age is the head of your owner, do not waste in hesitation. The only constant thing in life is that it constantly changes. Do not scratch your skin like your fingernails. Avoid the accompaniment of the liar, if you have to do it, do not believe it. I teach him to shoot every day. If you suspect a man in love with him, ask your heart. Fear your heart. Whoever does not have a secret in his secret will not be able to reveal his knowledge. Your patience from the incendences of God is easier than your patience on the torment of God. The length of the mind destroys the mountains. As arrogant as standing on the mountain, people see young people and see him as small. The day is two days for you and the day for you, if you do not have a good time, but if you do not be angry. Shawr in your order who fear God. The people act in the opinion of a companion, and the cast of the face is free. Do not flirt with Sharif, he will be angry with you, and do not despise you. Do not stop creating and come like him, shame on you if you do great. Ruling and poetic proverbs that do not cease to be created, and a shame is upon you if you do great. If you do not fear the end of the nights and do not hesitate to do what you want. Sword The truest news of the books is the limit between grandfather and play. If you are in all things your friend's letter has not received which you adore. On the fate of the people come resolute and come to the dignity of dignified. For those who can not find it difficult, or realize the dream, then what is the hope? If only young people would come back one day and tell him what he did. Do not count glory as you eat it will not reach glory until licking Sabra. Your brother is the right one who seeks with you and who harms himself to benefit you. If the opinion reaches advice, seek advice or advice. Those who did not pass through his days, blindness was better than guidance. But one is a modern one, so be a good talk for those who see. And the scourge of the mind of fancy, who is on the whim of his mind has survived. It is not your travel to earn riches, but your place in against is travel. I have seen that the promise of God is right and that the fire is Life Quotes #Life #Quotes #Top #Famous #Best #Time #Collection #Love #Positive #Cute #Beauty #Quotes #Art #Romance #Amazing #Flowers #Winter #painteditmyself #Landscape #relationships #coloringbook #Naturephotography #Life #painting #Sunset #wedding #Quote Famous Quotes The Best Quotes of All Time Famous Quotes Inspirational Quotes Motivational and Inspirational Quotes Collection Love Quotes

http://www.alaruine.com/2017/08/not-all-experiences-in-our-lives-are.html

#SEO #Local SEO training

1 note · View note

alaruine · 7 years

Text

Not all experiences in our lives are successful or enjoyable some of them may be painful but useful

To light a small candle is better for you than to spend your lifetime cursing the darkness. Do not grieve that you failed as long as you try to stand on your feet again. The more one grows, the more miserable one becomes. The impossible asked: Where do you live? He answered in the dreams of impotent. The beta is devoid of the book is the house without a soul. It is not the strong who always win the war, but the weak who always lose peace. The titles are only a decoration for fools, and the great men do not need to name their names. Who loves loves the tree branches. We do not get peace by war, but with understanding. If justice disappears from the earth, the existence of man no longer has any value. It is not happiness to always work what you want, but to want what you do. The worst thing for a human being to be without work or love. Modesty in women's beauty and virtue in man. Your friend who tells you your mistakes, not those who beautify them to win your satisfaction. Friendship is a well that gets deeper as you take it. Smile a good word without letters. Do not think about the lost, so you do not lose what left. Who is satisfied with the little, will have no issues with hardships. the kind word is a passport to all hearts. If vanity increases lack of pleasure. Conscience is a comforting pillow for comfort. Who implants good reaps gratitude. the beautiful garden is not without snakes. Age is the only thing that the greater the shortage. The hearts are vessels, the lips are closed, the tongues are their keys, so every man shall keep his secret key. Experience is the comb that gives you life when you have lost your hair. Good money server, but he is a corrupt master. The greatness of your mind creates you the chastity, and the greatness of your heart creates you friends. Minute pain hour, and the hour of precise pleasure. There is no need to fear the sound of bullets. The bullet that kills you will not hear her voice. the wife stops rebuke her husbands to answer the phone. If you want to understand the reality of women, look at them when you close your eyes. If you have two loaves, each one, and buy the other flowers. Whoever falls in error is a human being, and whoever insists on him is a demon. Series strength is measured by its weakest link strongly. People can live without air for a few minutes, without water for two weeks, without food for about two months, and without the ideas of countless years. We spend the first half of our lives looking for money, success, fame, and spending the second half looking for doctors. Whoever buys what he does not need to sell what he needs. When people praise people, few believe it, and when they do, everyone believes. Sleeps deeply from someone who has nothing to fear of losing. Marriage comes without warning, as a point of black ink falls on human clothing. There is no failed man, but there is a man who started from the bottom and stayed in it. Money is often wasted, in search of money. If people refrain from talking about themselves and treating others badly, the great majority of people will be dumbfounded. The child has a small life, not knowing that life will play big. Our desires are as young children, the more tolerant we are with her. Choose your words before you speak, and give the choice enough time to mature speech, words like fruits need enough time to mature. Be wary of kareem if you insult him, and if he is deceived, it is wise if you embarrassed him, and foolish if mercy. If you teach a man, you know an individual. If you know a woman, you know a nation. The Orientals did not lose the weakness of power more than the poor of vision. The most laziness is that it makes one work like a lot of work. If the minimum is accepted by one of his loaners, the other's merits, and if you manage to deprive him of his own merits. The best way to overcome difficulties is to break into them. Whoever trusts in the good choice of God is not for him other than God chose for him. Through the science of his uncleanness was not alone, and from Anas with books, Salwa did not destroy him. Be in distress and iniquity, and in the infidels of patience, and in prosperity and thankfulness, and in prayer humbled, and to charity fast. I know, my son, that the place in this world is small, and that it is an arrogance, and a joy in it is a dream, so let it be easy, soon, honest, and a university word: Fear God in all your affairs. Some righteous people said: "I am ashamed of God to see me preoccupied with him and he is coming to me." It is not the body that carries the soul, but the soul that carries the body. I know that your opinion can not accommodate all things, so it is important for him, and that the owner does not sing all the people, so the people of truth are dedicated to it, and that your dignity does not affect the public. Hakim said: Evidence that what is in your hand is not for you, you know that it was before you to others. Who thought of the Yes God, then thought of his shortness in thanksgiving, blush from the question. A little livelihood with the safety of the soul is much more enjoyable with the aches. Your enemy is between your feet and his beloved soldier, but his armor is destroyed, and his rod has escaped. By leaving what does not concern you is what you mean. Hide the flag of the dead, and hide the life-saving action. Repent your Hassadk charity to them. The jewels of morality are revealed by cohabitation. Yes sown ground yourself to the good things. The most likely people are mind and complete them as well as to accompany his days with the prostrate, and his brothers by peace, and before the time of his forgiveness. The incompetent is called Tukla surrender, and the shortness of elation is convinced. The wise man looked at his mind and his mind, and the ignorant saw himself and his eyes. Whoever starts consulting and pleads with discretion, do not make a mistake. He who is sown with the mind of himself is disobedient, and whoever is impressed with his opinion is astray. In life is part of the dead, and to stay a share of the courtyard, and in the youth Diba of the pyramid, and in health of the elements of the sky. Do not fear those who warn, but beware of those who believe. Take Action and lied Hope noted term. The happy from the look of the world as it does not Asttara, and the work of righteousness is not waiting. Sayings and judgment are famous for the knowledge of the river, and the wisdom of the sea, and the scholars around the river roam, and the wise in the midst of the sea are diving, and those who know in the ships of salvation will spy. In school we learn and then face exams, but in life we face exams and then learn lessons. Wisdom is the loss of the believer. Be careful to keep things small about moving forward towards achieving your goals as you set for yourself, and remember that your age is the head of your owner, do not waste in hesitation. The only constant thing in life is that it constantly changes. Do not scratch your skin like your fingernails. Avoid the accompaniment of the liar, if you have to do it, do not believe it. I teach him to shoot every day. If you suspect a man in love with him, ask your heart. Fear your heart. Whoever does not have a secret in his secret will not be able to reveal his knowledge. Your patience from the incendences of God is easier than your patience on the torment of God. The length of the mind destroys the mountains. As arrogant as standing on the mountain, people see young people and see him as small. The day is two days for you and the day for you, if you do not have a good time, but if you do not be angry. Shawr in your order who fear God. The people act in the opinion of a companion, and the cast of the face is free. Do not flirt with Sharif, he will be angry with you, and do not despise you. Do not stop creating and come like him, shame on you if you do great. Ruling and poetic proverbs that do not cease to be created, and a shame is upon you if you do great. If you do not fear the end of the nights and do not hesitate to do what you want. Sword The truest news of the books is the limit between grandfather and play. If you are in all things your friend's letter has not received which you adore. On the fate of the people come resolute and come to the dignity of dignified. For those who can not find it difficult, or realize the dream, then what is the hope? If only young people would come back one day and tell him what he did. Do not count glory as you eat it will not reach glory until licking Sabra. Your brother is the right one who seeks with you and who harms himself to benefit you. If the opinion reaches advice, seek advice or advice. Those who did not pass through his days, blindness was better than guidance. But one is a modern one, so be a good talk for those who see. And the scourge of the mind of fancy, who is on the whim of his mind has survived. It is not your travel to earn riches, but your place in against is travel. I have seen that the promise of God is right and that the fire is Life Quotes #Life #Quotes #Top #Famous #Best #Time #Collection #Love #Positive #Cute #Beauty #Quotes #Art #Romance #Amazing #Flowers #Winter #painteditmyself #Landscape #relationships #coloringbook #Naturephotography #Life #painting #Sunset #wedding #Quote Famous Quotes The Best Quotes of All Time Famous Quotes Inspirational Quotes Motivational and Inspirational Quotes Collection Love Quotes

wallpaper hd for #photo #model #fashion #fashionweek #photographer #popularphoto #hairstylist #makeup #instagood #bestoftheday #photooftheday #day #likes #good #female #world #beauty #art #style #photos #amazing #bride #travel #camera #canon #nikon #vacation #happy #farm #love #nature #naturelovers

0 notes

alaruine · 7 years

Photo

The most beautiful rule in life

People pass through his life in many different situations, whether happy or sad, and these positions gain experience in how to deal with life and people, and we will mention here the most beautiful of that rule.

The knowledge of the river, and the wisdom of the sea, and the scholars around the river roam, and the wise in the midst of the sea are diving, and those who know in the ships of salvation shall pass away. In school we learn and then face exams, but in life we face exams and then learn lessons. Wisdom is the loss of the believer. Be careful to keep things small about moving forward towards achieving your goals as you set for yourself, and remember that your age is the head of your owner, do not waste in hesitation. The only constant thing in life is that it constantly changes. Do not scratch your skin like your fingernails. Avoid the accompaniment of the liar, if you have to do it, do not believe it. I teach him to shoot every day. If you suspect a man in love with him, ask your heart. Fear your heart. Whoever does not have a secret in his secret will not be able to reveal his knowledge. Your patience is closer to the incarceration of God than your patience to the punishment of God. The length of the mind destroys the mountains. As arrogant as standing on the mountain, people see young people and see him as small. The day is two days for you and the day for you, if you do not have a good time, but if you do not be angry. Shawr in your order who fear God. The people act in the opinion of a companion, and the cast of the face is free. Do not flirt with Sharif, he will be angry with you, and do not despise you. Do not stop creating and come like him, shame on you if you do great. Ruling and poetic proverbs that do not cease to be created, and a shame is upon you if you do great. If you do not fear the end of the nights and do not hesitate to do what you want. Sword The truest news of the books is the limit between grandfather and play. If you are in all things your friend's letter has not received which you adore. On the fate of the people of determination comes the defeats and come to the dignity of dignified. For those who can not find it difficult, or realize the dream, then what is the hope? If only young people would come back one day and tell him what he did. Do not count glory as you eat it will not reach glory until licking Sabra. Your brother is the right one who seeks with you and who harms himself to benefit you. If the opinion reaches advice, seek advice or advice. Those who did not pass through his days, blindness was better than guidance. But one is a modern one, so be a good talk for those who see. And the scourge of the mind of fancy, who is on the whim of his mind has survived. It is not your travel to earn riches, but your place in against is travel. I have seen that the promise of God is right and that the fire is the kefrina.

wallpaper cute animals drawings cute animals videos cute animals cartoon cute animals to draw cute animals list cute animals pictures cute wild animals baby animals names photo model fashion fashionweek photographer popularphoto hairstylist makeup instagood bestoftheday photooftheday day likes good female world beauty art style photos amazing bride travel camera canon nikon vacation happy farm love nature naturelovers hd for #photo #model #fashion #fashionweek #photographer #popularphoto #hairstylist #makeup #instagood #bestoftheday #photooftheday #day #likes #good #female #world #beauty #art #style #photos #amazing #bride #travel #camera #canon #nikon #vacation #happy #farm #love #nature #naturelovers 2017 wallpaper cute animals drawings cute animals videos cute animals cartoon cute animals to draw cute animals list cute animals pictures cute wild animals baby animals names 2017 photo model fashion fashionweek photographer popularphoto hairstylist makeup instagood bestoftheday photooftheday day likes good female world beauty art style photos amazing bride travel camera canon nikon vacation happy farm love nature naturelovers hd for #photo #model #fashion #fashionweek #photographer #popularphoto #hairstylist #makeup #instagood #bestoftheday #photooftheday #day #likes #good #female #world #beauty #art #style #photos #amazing #bride #travel #camera #canon #nikon #vacation #happy #farm #love #nature #naturelovers cute animals drawings cute animals cartoon cute animals to draw cute animals videos cute animals pictures cute animals list cute wild animals pictures of cute baby animals

The most beautiful rule in life http://ift.tt/2q2Gs2S

#ltr #text-align: left;#on #text-align: center;#<div dir= style= trbidi=> <div style=> <span style=

0 notes