Slocomb, Alabama
Dear Aaron,
You are my best good friend. In many ways, you are the brother I never had. I’m not sure that’s a title you want to bear. I’m sort of a degenerate.
But I love you, brother. So help me, I do.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
Dear Aaron,
You are my best good friend. In many ways, you are the brother I never had. I’m not sure that’s a title you want to bear. I’m sort of a degenerate.
But I love you, brother. So help me, I do.
Northview High School lost one of their own a few weeks ago. Students returned after spring break and their world was decimated. The teenage security bubble had been shattered.
Senior Kara Santorelli was recently killed on Highway 29. Her car was struck by a vehicle traveling the wrong way. Both drivers died at the scene.
It was godawful.
Life is the ultimate game: no instruction manual at birth, no guarantee how much time is on the clock, and plenty of opportunities to screw it up. The crazy part is that God gave us the cheat code anyway. Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” We get a lifetime to figure that out, produce some good fruit, and use every redo grace gives us. But eventually, the clock hits zero.
This is weird. I realize this. But I wanted to write to you, dear loved one. Namely, because I’ve been dead for some time now. And the way I left this world happened so fast. So unexpected.
The 14-year-old boy cried as he knelt beside his bedside, clasping his hands together. He sobbed, imploring the heavens for a miracle.