Pope’s hug embraced everyone with disabilities, dad says :: EWTN News.
(From “Around The World Live” DVD.)
What can I say. My Great Grandma Kelly (maiden name: Ann McMillin) who came from Scotland when she was 6, in 1856, became a pioneer woman who sang Opera and raised a family of 14. So, I’m mixed up and eclectic music lover.
The 2nd version is “John Denver & Nitty Gritty Dirt Band” – Singing “Thank God I’m A Country Boy!”
Boy with autism arrested for assault after police called to classroom.
A police officer did this to an Autistic Nine Year Old – Little Boy!!! This is Child Abuse by an “Out of Control – Cop!“ Shame on him! I say to that cop, “Pick on someone your own size – not a little boy – with severe mental disabilities!”
Pray for this little boy, his mother, that Cop, and his Police Dept. Obama should step in and defend this little one.
A mother of a 6-year-old boy says her son was slapped by each of his classmates on the orders of their teacher as a form of discipline. Aiden Neely was accused of being a bully at his school, Salinas Elementary School, near San Antonio, Texas….
via Mom Says Teacher Had Students Slap Her Son.
MY TWO CENTS WORTH
Sue them, in perpetuity!
The bodies are stacking up, on Obama’s watch. All to cover up his lies. Dead men tell no tales? Or do their spirits cry out to God for justice? I rather think the later is so. God only let’s so much pass, then He steps in. The heat is on. And, between the dead unborn babies to dead squealers eventually it’s all going to be revealed. Either now or on Judgment Day. No one gets out of here alive w/o God’s scrutiny and His last laugh!

This painting reminds me of my eldest son. Ever since he could walk, he would take and “do chores” with his Dad. He’d walk down to the barn with his little pail, mimicking how his Dad watered the animals and fed them.
By the time he got to the barn, most of the water in his pail, had splashed all over his pants. When he was really just a toddler, he would try to navigate the cow pies. But, every once in a while, he’d fall face first or fanny first into a freshly kerplunked cow pie. “Icky Momma” and he’d show me his fingers covered in poop. He’d get frustrated and cry, and I’d take him back to the house, to give him a bath and wash his clothes. Just another life lesson and priceless childhood memories, waiting to be treasured, once again.
His Dad got a big kick out of that. Smiling as we recalled the event, to each other.
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