Jason Frontczak turned pain into purpose. After 10 years sober and a past that includes prison, he now walks alongside others as a Peer Recovery Coach — offering hope, healing, and a path forward.
🎥 Watch his powerful story → https://bluewaterhealthyliving.com/shows/eileen-tesch-living-exponentially/rise-2-power-jason-frontczak/
#RecoveryIsPossible #PeerSupport #JasonFrontczak #FaithAndFreedom #GBSMedia #BWHL #PortHuronMichigan #AddictionRecovery #SecondChances #NewMedia
Grizzlies to assist in upcoming expungement clinic | News https://www.rawchili.com/nba/124064/ #Basketball #CommunityResourceFair #CriminalCourtClerk #education #employment #Erase&ElevateExpungementClinic #ExpungementClinic #ExpungementEligibility #fedexforum #FreeClinic #FreeEvent #Grizzlies #Memphis #MemphisGrizzlies #MemphisGrizzlies #NBA #ResourceFair #SecondChance #SecondChances #ShelbyCounty #ShelbyCountyCriminalCourtClerk
As mentioned Pop Shop Radiogram on 9395 this week captured with a KiwiSDR at Ottawa, Canada. Morgan City, LA USA WA5107SWL
#PopShopRadio #MFSK #DigitalModes #SWL #Shortwave #Radio #WRMI #SecondChances
I just posted my entry for this month's #IndieWebCarnival :
https://marisabel.nl/public/blog/Take_Two_-_Starting_Over_Again_and_Again
#otd #startrek #thenextgeneration #secondchances #picard #riker #troi #laforge #data #worf #drcruhser #thomasriker #maejamison #startrek58 @trekcore
Izzy Van Leer did not choose a life without love. Blossom Inlet decided that curse for her. Will the return of an old flame change everything? "You won't regret a second spent in [the Last Waltz in] Blossom Inlet" by Sandra Bass Joines.
#womensfiction #SecondChances #romance #books
https://www.amazon.com/Last-Waltz-Blossom-Inlet-Novel-ebook/dp/B0BLMF2LVP/
Bottling #SecondChances: #Inmates Craft #FineWine on a Remote #Tuscan #Prison Island
https://nicenews.com/environment/inmates-fine-wine-tuscan-prison-island/
In The Measure of Life by Judith Works, Nicole's journey begins in Rome with a crumbling marriage and unfolds into a powerful story of rediscovery, forgiveness, and finding peace in unexpected places. Rich with food, friendship, and self-reflection, this novel is perfect for readers who love emotional depth and a vivid sense of place. 💙📚
#TheMeasureOfLife #JudithWorks #BookTour #WomensFiction #LifeAbroad #SetInRome #SelfDiscovery #LoveAndLoss #SecondChances…
https://ginaraemitchell.com/measure-of-life/?utm_source=mastodon&utm_medium=jetpack_social
ABC News: 10 men at large after escape from New Orleans jail, considered armed and dangerous: Sheriff's office
https://abcnews.go.com/US/11-men-escape-new-orleans-jail-considered-armed/story?id=121879077
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It's play time.
#SecondChances
Our Employment Team Advisers provide one-to-one support to our Members (people with a criminal conviction) because we know how tough it is to find work if you have a conviction.
#secondchances #cleansheetworks #perseverance
Blunt Rochester Revives Push for Clean Slate Act, Aims to Boost Jobs and Second Chances https://shinemycrown.com/blunt-rochester-revives-push-for-clean-slate-act-aims-to-boost-jobs-and-second-chances/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=mastodon #CleanSlateAct #JobOpportunities #SecondChances #NonviolentOffenders #CriminalJusticeReform
The Forgotten Man: A Parable for a New Generation
1,703 words, 9 minutes read time.
Walking with the Good Samaritan: Servant Leadership for a New EraAffiliate Link
I had been walking down that same road for years. The same dusty, sun-scorched path that split the barren landscape between my home and the bustling marketplace. In a way, it had become my lifeline—familiar and predictable. I had learned to hate the road, but I also depended on it. It was a place of isolation, a place where my thoughts could be my only company, where I could let my mind wander and get lost in the monotony of daily life.
There were many things I had forgotten over the years: the face of my father, the laughter of my childhood, the warmth of a friendship that had been long extinguished. What I hadn’t forgotten, though, was the road. And one fateful day, I was left to walk it alone.
It started with a quiet whisper in my ear, an enticing invitation to venture out a little further, to see something beyond the ordinary. You see, I had always been a man driven by ambition, by the need for recognition, and by the belief that I deserved more than what my small world had to offer. I had a good life, by many standards—safety, security, and a reputation that made people respect me—but it never felt like enough. There was a hunger in me that was always unsatisfied, a thirst for something more, something greater.
It was this ambition, this longing for more, that led me down the path that would eventually change my life forever.
One day, a wealthy merchant had come to town, and I had heard rumors of the treasures he carried. My instincts told me that if I could make an impression on this man, I could secure my future, maybe even gain the riches I had always dreamed of. But it wasn’t just about the money—it was about the power, the prestige. It was the chance to prove I was better, that I deserved something more than what I had been given.
So, I began planning. I knew that the road to the merchant’s camp was treacherous, but my pride told me that I could navigate it alone. I was no stranger to hardship. In my mind, I was untouchable, invincible even. Nothing could stand in my way. It was my choices, my will, that would determine my fate. I had walked the road countless times before and had survived every challenge. But this time would be different.
I set out early in the morning, my mind filled with the promise of something greater, something beyond my wildest imagination. As the hours passed, I grew increasingly aware of the isolation around me. The silence of the barren hills, the dust in the air, the weight of the sun pressing down upon my skin. But still, I pressed on.
And then, it happened.
A group of bandits emerged from the shadows of the rocks. They surrounded me with the swiftness of predators, their faces masked, their weapons drawn. I tried to fight back, but I was outnumbered. It didn’t take long before I found myself lying on the ground, my body bruised and bloodied. My possessions were taken, my dignity stripped away, and I was left there, half-conscious, alone on the side of the road.
In that moment, I thought to myself, “How could this have happened? How could I have been so careless?” But deep down, I knew the answer. It was my pride, my arrogance, that had brought me here. It was my own choices, my own desire for more, that had led me to this place of ruin. And as the hours passed, the pain only grew worse, the realization of my foolishness sinking deeper into my bones.
I was not the only one who passed by that day. There were others—people I had once called friends, people I had respected. The first was a priest, a man of God. He saw me lying there, wounded and broken, but he kept walking. I remember the look on his face—indifference mixed with a touch of superiority. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a nuisance, a distraction from his holy duties. He passed me by without a second thought.
Next came a Levite, a man of the law, someone who had always been quick to uphold tradition and righteousness. He saw me too, but his response was no different from the priest’s. He crossed to the other side of the road, avoiding me with the same cold detachment. It wasn’t that he didn’t see me; it was that he didn’t care.
But then, something unexpected happened.
A man appeared from the distance. He was a Samaritan—a man from a group that my people had long despised. The Jews and the Samaritans had been at odds for generations, locked in a bitter rivalry that went back centuries. Yet, as this Samaritan approached, something in his eyes told me that he was different.
He didn’t hesitate. He knelt down beside me, his hands gentle as they touched my wounds. I tried to speak, to thank him, but my voice was weak. He didn’t need my gratitude. Instead, he lifted me up, carefully and without judgment, as if I was a brother he had never met before.
The Samaritan didn’t just stop to offer a word of sympathy; he took action. He used his own supplies to bandage my wounds and then helped me onto his donkey. The journey to the nearest inn was slow and painful, but he stayed by my side, never once complaining, never once turning away.
At the inn, he paid for my care, ensuring that I would be well-treated until I had recovered. And before he left, he told the innkeeper that if the cost of my stay exceeded what he had already given, he would cover it. “Take care of him,” he said. “Whatever it costs, I will pay.”
I had been left for dead by those who were supposed to help me—by those who considered themselves righteous, by those who believed they were above the likes of me. But the one person I least expected to show mercy was the one who did.
Then Jesus.
It was in that moment that everything changed for me. The story of the Good Samaritan became more than just words. It was my story. I had once been like the priest, like the Levite, judging others from a distance, thinking that my position in society gave me the right to look down on those who were less fortunate. But in my hour of need, I was shown mercy by the one I had been taught to despise. It was as if God Himself had reached down and pulled me out of the pit I had dug for myself.
I realized that my choices had led me to this place. It wasn’t fate or bad luck. It was my pride, my refusal to see the humanity in others, my selfish desire for more. And now, I had been given a second chance. The Samaritan didn’t owe me anything, yet he gave me everything.
The moral of the story isn’t just about helping those in need. It’s about understanding that we all have a choice—to be like the priest, to be like the Levite, or to be like the Samaritan. We can choose to turn away, to ignore the suffering of others, or we can choose to step into the mess, to offer mercy where it is least expected.
In that moment, I understood what it truly meant to love my neighbor. It wasn’t about who was worthy of my help. It wasn’t about whether or not they fit into my social circle, my ideology, or my expectations. It was about showing kindness, compassion, and mercy to those who need it the most—without conditions, without judgment.
And so, I was left with a choice. I could continue down the road of self-righteousness, clinging to my pride and my ambition. Or I could choose to live differently, to be a neighbor to those who were suffering, to show the same mercy that had been shown to me.
I chose the latter. And though I may never fully repay the Samaritan for his kindness, I have vowed to be a good neighbor to others, just as he was to me. I can only hope that my actions, however small, might one day make a difference in someone else’s life—just as the Samaritan’s actions changed mine.
Now, I see the road differently. It’s no longer a place of isolation and pride, but a reminder of the choices I make and the impact they have on the world around me. And every time I walk it, I remember that no one is beyond mercy, and that love has the power to transform even the most broken of lives.
And so, my story continues—not as one of ambition and pride, but as one of grace, humility, and the redemptive power of compassion. I hope it’s a story worth sharing, not just for me, but for all of us.
D. Bryan King
Sources
Disclaimer:
The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.
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🌟 Give Your Old Content New Life! 🌟 Ever wondered if your past posts still have potential? Discover why your "dead posts" deserve a second chance and how they can shine again! 🌿✨ Click here to transform your old content into fresh opportunities: https://blog.nuelink.com/repurposing-content/ #ContentRevival #BreatheNewLife #SecondChances
The Lost Keepsake
1,282 words, 7 minutes read time.
108 Moral Stories (Illustrated) for ChildrenThe late afternoon sun dappled through the thinning leaves of the oak trees behind Ethan’s house, painting shifting patterns on the moss-covered stone wall. A cool breeze whispered down from the nearby foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Ethan, a boy of ten with a mop of sandy brown hair and eyes that held a perpetual spark of curiosity, was on one of his usual explorations. He loved the quiet solitude of the woods, the way nature held tiny treasures for those who looked closely enough.
Today, his keen eyes spotted something glinting amidst the tangled ivy clinging to the old wall. He carefully pulled back the vines and there it was: a delicate, heart-shaped locket. It was made of tarnished silver, its surface etched with swirling floral patterns that hinted at age. A tiny hinge allowed it to be opened, and inside, nestled against faded velvet, were two miniature photographs. One was of a young girl with serious, wide eyes, and the other showed an older woman with a kind smile etched with wrinkles. The locket felt cool and smooth in Ethan’s palm, radiating a sense of history and personal significance. A thrill of discovery, mixed with a faint unease, ran through him as he slipped it into his pocket.
The next afternoon, the usual boisterous energy was missing from their gathering spot beneath the sprawling oak. Caleb, ever the restless one, was kicking at loose acorns with unusual quietness. Sarah, typically the most composed of their small group, sat perched on a low-hanging branch, her shoulders slumped. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and a palpable sadness hung in the air around her. Billy, the youngest, sat silently beside her, his brow furrowed in concern.
“What’s wrong, Sarah?” Ethan asked, his stomach tightening with a premonition.
Sarah’s voice trembled as she spoke. “It’s my grandmother. She’s lost her locket.”
Ethan’s heart lurched. The image of the silver heart in his pocket flashed through his mind.
“Her locket?” Caleb echoed, his usual enthusiasm replaced by sympathy. “The one she always wears?”
Sarah nodded, tears welling in her eyes again. “Yes. It was her mother’s. She’s had it since she was a little girl. She wears it every single day. She’s just… lost without it.” Sarah explained that her grandmother had visited the stone wall area the previous afternoon, enjoying the last warm rays of the sun. They suspected it might have come loose and fallen off there.
A wave of guilt washed over Ethan. He could feel the weight of the locket in his pocket, a tangible representation of his secret. He mumbled something about being sorry and avoided Sarah’s gaze.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a desultory search around the stone wall. Caleb, usually full of playful antics, was uncharacteristically focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he peered through the undergrowth. Billy, eager to help, diligently turned over fallen leaves. Ethan participated, pretending to search, his eyes scanning the ground while his mind wrestled with the growing turmoil within him.
He kept replaying the moment of discovery, the way the locket had felt in his hand, the glimpse of the faded photographs. He thought of Sarah’s grandmother, a kind woman with a gentle smile who always had a Werther’s Original candy for him. He imagined her distress, the empty space where the locket usually rested against her chest.
That evening, the weight of his secret became unbearable. He sat on the edge of his bed, the silver locket lying heavy in his palm. He thought of the Sunday school lessons his mother had always emphasized – the importance of honesty, of treating others as you would want to be treated. He remembered a story about finding something valuable and the inner peace that came from returning it.
He considered keeping it. It was a beautiful object, a piece of history. No one had seen him find it. But the thought of Sarah’s sad eyes, the image of her grandmother’s worried face, gnawed at his conscience. He knew, deep down, what the right thing to do was.
The next morning, Ethan walked to their usual meeting spot with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. He clutched the locket tightly in his hand, its cool surface a stark contrast to his sweaty palm. Sarah was already there, her face still etched with worry. Caleb stood beside her, offering quiet words of comfort. Billy trailed behind, carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked, a silent offering of sympathy.
Ethan took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Sarah,” he began, his voice a little shaky.
All three children turned to look at him.
He opened his hand, revealing the tarnished silver locket.
A gasp escaped Sarah’s lips. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Ethan! Where… where did you find that?”
Ethan’s cheeks flushed. He explained how he had found it nestled in the ivy by the stone wall two days earlier. He mumbled about being distracted by his exploring and not realizing its significance until Sarah had mentioned it was missing.
A wave of emotions washed over Sarah’s face – surprise, relief, and then a deep gratitude. Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. She rushed towards Ethan and hugged him tightly.
“Oh, Ethan! Thank you! Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to my grandmother.”
Caleb clapped Ethan on the shoulder, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Wow, Ethan! You found it! I knew it had to be around there somewhere.”
Even Billy beamed, holding out his wildflowers towards Ethan as a silent gesture of appreciation.
Sarah pulled back, her eyes shining. “I have to tell her right away! She’s been so upset.” She took the locket from Ethan’s outstretched hand, her fingers tracing the delicate carvings. “She wears this every day. It’s like a part of her.”
Later that day, Ethan saw Sarah again, her face radiant. She told him how overjoyed her grandmother had been to have her locket back. The older woman had held it close to her heart, her eyes filled with tears of relief. She had insisted that Sarah bring Ethan over to thank him personally.
When Ethan went to Sarah’s house, her grandmother greeted him with a warm hug and a gentle smile. “Ethan, you are a very honest and kind young man,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “This locket… it holds so many memories. I thought it was lost forever. Thank you for bringing it back to me.” She pressed a Werther’s Original into his hand, her familiar gesture now carrying an extra layer of heartfelt gratitude.
As Ethan walked home that evening, the setting sun casting long shadows across the fields, he felt a quiet sense of peace settle within him. The initial thrill of finding the locket had been fleeting, but the feeling of doing the right thing, of returning something precious and easing someone’s worry, was a warmth that lingered. He understood then that true value wasn’t found in possessions, but in the integrity of his actions and the connections he shared with his friends and his community. The lost locket, worn close to a grandmother’s heart, had not only been found but had also revealed a deeper truth about honesty and the quiet blessings it brings.
D. Bryan King
Disclaimer:
The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.
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#phantombetrayal #MotorcycleRomance #FoundFamily #SecondChances #Gritty #HavocInHarris #Duology #Romance #Gritty
Book Review Phantom Betrayal by E. Abraham
Where to find and Extra's
https://mybook.to/PhantomBetrayal (amazon)
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@hockey@lemmy.ca @icehockey @writers @writing
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After 20 Years In Prison She’s Pursuing A PhD: Meet The Woman Redefining Second Chances Through Scholarship & Advocacy https://shinemycrown.com/after-20-years-in-prison-shes-pursuing-a-phd-meet-the-woman-redefining-second-chances-through-scholarship-advocacy/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=mastodon #SecondChances #Scholarship #Advocacy #Inspiration #PhDJourney
Rep. Jasmine Crockett: "Can we get a do-over? Asking for the sane WORLD that wants off of this disastrous rollercoaster known as the Trump Administration/Crime syndicate/moronic monsters."
#politics #IEndorseThisRequest #SecondChances.
