Family Assistance through Counselling and Training - FACT

18/05/2026

It is impossible to overemphasize the immense need humans have to be really listened to. Listen to all the conversations of our world, between nations as well as those between couples. They are for the most part dialogues of the deaf.

If we would love, we must listen to one another. This is the first work of love. It is in listening that marriage matures.

Listening effectively means that when someone is talking you are not thinking about what you are going to say when the other person stops. Instead, you are totally tuned in to what the other person is saying.

Love is listening. Love is the opening of your life to another. Through sincere interest, simple atten-tion, sensitive listening, compassionate understand-ing and honest sharing. An open ear is the only believable sign of an open heart. You learn to understand life-you learn to live-as you learn to listen.

What did you hear these words saying for your marriage?

16/05/2026

10/04/2026

My name's Pauline. I'm 69. For fifteen years, I walked the same route every morning. Out my door at 6:45 a.m., down Elm Street, through the alley behind the Korean grocery, past the elementary school, and back home. Exactly forty-two minutes. Rain or shine.

It wasn't exercise. It was escape. From my empty house. From memories of Tom. From the silence that swallowed me whole if I stayed still too long.

But last month, I twisted my ankle. Doctor said no walking for six weeks. I was devastated. But also secretly relieved (?). Finally, an excuse to stop. Stop pretending the walks helped. Stop forcing myself out of bed. Just... stop.

The first week was fine. Slept in. Watched TV. Felt like a vacation.

Second week, my doorbell rang. The Korean grocery owner, Mr. Kim. Looked worried.

"Miss Pauline. You okay? You sick?"

"Just a sprained ankle. I'm fine."

He nodded, but didn't leave. "You need anything? Groceries?"

"No, thank you."

He left. Weird, but whatever.

Three days later, the school principal knocked. Mrs. Henderson. I'd never spoken to her in my life.

"Ms. Pauline? We wanted to check on you. The crossing guard mentioned you haven't been by."

"I hurt my ankle. Why does everyone inquire?"

"Oh, thank goodness. We were worried something happened."

"Why would you be worried about me?"

She looked surprised. "Because... well... you're part of the routine."

I had no idea what she meant.

Next day, an envelope appeared under my door. Inside, a drawing. Crayon. Stick figure with gray hair walking. At the bottom: "Get better soon. Love, Emma (2nd grade)."

I didn't know any Emma.

Then more letters came. A card from the alley cat lady I'd never spoken to. A note from the mailman. The teenager who worked at the Korean grocery. All asking if I was okay. All saying they missed seeing me.

I was baffled. I didn't know these people. Never said more than "hello" to any of them.

So I called Mrs. Henderson. "Why does everyone care that I'm not walking?"

Long pause. "You really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Ms. Pauline, you've been the neighborhood clock for fifteen years. Mr. Kim opens his store when he sees you pass. The crossing guard knows to head to her post when you walk by. Parents know if their kids see you, they're not late for school. The alley cat lady feeds the strays right after you walk through. You're... you're the signal that the day is starting."

I sat down, stunned.

"And Emma," Mrs. Henderson continued, "she's our anxious one. Scared of school every day. But she stands at the kindergarten fence every morning waiting to see you walk by. Once she sees you, she tells her mom she's ready to go in. You're her bravery trigger. She doesn't know why. But you are."

I couldn't speak.

"We thought you knew," Mrs. Henderson said softly. "That you were doing it on purpose. Being there for us."

But I wasn't. I was just... existing. Surviving. Walking to avoid my own loneliness.

Yesterday, my ankle healed. I laced up my shoes. Walked my route.
Mr. Kim waved. The crossing guard smiled.

The alley cat lady nodded. And Emma, little Emma I'd never met, pressed her face against the kindergarten fence and yelled, "You're back! I was so scared you died!"

Her teacher gently corrected her, but Emma ran to the gate. "Can I walk with you tomorrow? Just to the corner?"

Her mom, standing nearby, looked at me hopefully.

"Sure," I whispered.
This morning, Emma held my hand for three blocks. Talked nonstop about her pet fish. When we reached her school, she hugged my legs. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time."

I'm 69. For fifteen years, I thought I was walking to escape my pain. Thought I was invisible. Meaningless.
Turns out, I was the thread holding a dozen strangers' mornings together. The rhythm they set their lives by.
And I never knew.

Here's what I learned.

You have no idea what you mean to people. The small, ordinary things you do. They might be someone else's only constant. Their signal that the world is still turning. Their reason to be brave.

So don't stop. Don't assume you don't matter. Don't think nobody notices.
They do. And your "just surviving" might be someone else's entire reason to start their day.

Keep walking. Someone's counting on you. Even if you'll never know who."

25/02/2026

I always thought that people drank their tea from the saucer because the tea was too hot.

Do you remember our generation drinking tea from their saucer?

Then today I came across this poem that made me feel there was symbolism to the saucer ritual.
It echoes my thoughts... Let us have gratitude always..

*Drinking from My Saucer*
_by John Paul Moore_

I’ve never made a fortune and it’s probably too late now.
But I don’t worry about that much, I’m happy anyhow.

And as I go along life’s way, I’m reaping better than I sowed.
_I’m drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed._

I don’t have a lot of riches, and sometimes the going’s tough.
But I’ve got loved ones around me, and that makes me rich enough.

I thank God for his blessings, and the mercies He’s bestowed.
_I’m drinking from my saucer, ’Cause my cup has overflowed._

I remember times when things went wrong, my faith wore somewhat thin.
But all at once the dark clouds broke, and the sun peeped through again.

So God, help me not to gripe about the tough rows that I’ve hoed.
_I’m drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed._

If God gives me strength and courage, when the way grows steep and rough.
I’ll not ask for other blessings, I’m already blessed enough.

And may I never be too busy, to help others bear their loads.

_Then I’ll keep drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed._

24/02/2026

Beautiful.. read this .

Love in rituals

I almost filed for divorce last Tuesday.
I was sitting in my car, staring at the paperwork, convinced that "the spark" was gone. I felt numb. I drove to my parents’ house instead—seeking a place to hide, or maybe just looking for an excuse to delay the inevitable.

My parents, Margaret and Jimmy, have been married for 52 years. They are the kind of American couple you see in old photos: he’s a retired foreman who speaks in grunts; she’s a retired nurse who runs the house with quiet efficiency.

While Dad was out back tinkering with his old truck, I sat at the kitchen table and asked Mom the question that had been burning a hole in my chest.

"Mom," I whispered, watching her fold laundry. "After fifty years... are you actually still in love with him? Or are you just... used to him?"

She stopped folding. She looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read—somewhere between pity and amusement. She didn't answer immediately. She just patted my hand, smiled a tired, knowing smile, and went back to the towels.

I left an hour later, frustrated, feeling like she didn't understand the modern need for "connection" and "passion."

But when I got home, my phone buzzed. It was a long email from my mother. She isn't tech-savvy, so seeing her type this much was a shock.

I sat in my driveway and read it. By the end, I was weeping.

Here is what she wrote:

"My darling girl,

You asked me today if I still love your father. I didn't answer you then because love isn't a soundbite I can explain while folding sheets. But I want you to know the truth.

It makes me smile that you ask this. Not because it’s a silly question, but because the answer is complicated.

Do I love him like I did in 1972? No. If you are looking for butterflies in the stomach, or the nervous energy of a first date, or the fireworks of a Hollywood movie... then no, I don't have that.

But that isn’t love. That is adrenaline.

Love, after a lifetime together, isn't the explosion. It is the roots.

It is no longer the feeling that shakes you up; it is the certainty that holds you down when the world tries to blow you away. It doesn’t make my heart race anymore; it calms my soul. It doesn’t make my hands tremble; it gives me the strength to get out of bed when my arthritis flares up.

In this house, there are no big surprises anymore. We don't do grand romantic gestures. We have something better: We have rituals.

It’s the coffee pot starting at 6:00 AM exactly, because he knows I need it hot. It’s the small, silly arguments we have about how to load the dishwasher or who left the porch light on. It’s the way he instinctively pulls the blanket over my shoulder when I cough in the middle of the night.

I know what he wants and when, I do it instinctively, without fretting over it.

These seem like boring, trivial things to your generation. But they are everything.

At this stage of life, I don't need a man to buy me diamonds or take me to Paris. I need a man who listens when I say my back hurts. I need a man who just hands me a tissue when I’m crying over the news, without asking why. I need a man who doesn't leave the room when I’m depressed and don't even like myself very much.

And your father? He does that. Without fanfare. Without asking for a 'thank you.' He is simply there.

Loving someone for fifty years isn't like the romance novels. It’s more like developing a secret language that no one else on earth speaks. It’s a way of looking at each other across a crowded room and knowing exactly what the other is thinking, because you have shared the same bills, the same worries about the kids, the same grief when we lost friends, and the same stubborn will to keep going.

So, to answer your question: Yes. I am still wildly in love with him.

But not with the boy I met at the diner in '72. I am in love with the life we built. I am in love with the peace that comes from knowing that, no matter how crazy this country gets or how hard the storm blows outside, he is my shelter.

Don't look for the fireworks, honey. Look for the person who becomes your home."

I turned off the car. I tore up the papers on the passenger seat. I walked inside to my husband, who was sitting on the couch, looking just as tired as I felt.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I'd love that."

It starts with the butterflies. But it survives on the roots.

24/02/2026

THE TONGUE - Chuck Swindoll.

Verbal cyanide. A lethal, relentless, flaming missile which assaults with hellish power, blister-ing and destroying at will.
And yet it doesn't look anything like the brutal beast it is. Neatly hidden behind ivory palace gates, its movements are an intriguing study of coordina-tion. It can curl itself either in feither into a cheery whistle or manipulate a lazy, afternoon yawn. With no diffi-culty it can flick a husk of popcorn from between two jaw teeth or hold a thermometer just so.
But watch out! Let your thumb get smashed with a hammer or your toe get clobbered on a chair and that slippery creature in your mouth will sud-denly play the flip side of its nature.
Not only is the tongue untamed, it's untamable. Meaning what? Meaning as long as you live it will never take control of itself.

15/02/2026

*Boards outside a Church* with
A little bit of *humour*
😀
*Some are good & true*

1. There was a church that had problems with outsiders parking in its parking lots so they put up a sign :

CHURCH CAR PARK -
FOR MEMBERS ONLY. Trespassers will be baptized.

2. "No God - No Peace;
*Know God - Know Peace*

3. "Free trip to heaven.
Details inside!"

4. "Try our Sundays.
They are better than Baskin Robbins."

5. "Searching for a new look?
Have your *faith lifted here*

6. An ad for one Church has a picture of two hands holding stone tablets on which the Ten Commandments are inscribed and a headline that reads :
"For fast, fast, fast relief, *take two tablets*."

7. When the restaurant next to Church put out a big sign with red letters that said,
"Open Sundays," the church reciprocated with its own message :
"We are open on Sundays, too."

8. "Fight truth decay --
*READ the Bible daily*

9. "How will you spend eternity:
Smoking or Non-smoking?" 😀

10. "Dusty Bibles lead to *MESSY* lives"

11. "Come work for the Lord.
The work is hard, the hours are long and the pay is low.
But the retirement benefits are out of this world."

12. "It is unlikely there'll be a reduction in the wages of sin."

13. "Do not wait for the *hearse* to take you to church."

14. If you're headed in the wrong direction,
God allows U-turns

15. "If you don't like the way you were born,
try being born again."

16. "Looking at the way some people live,
they ought to obtain eternal fire insurance soon."

17. "This is a CH _ _ CH
What is missing?"
(*U R* )

18. "In the dark?
Follow the Son."

19. "Running low on faith?
Step in for a fill-up."

20. "If you can't sleep, don't count sheep.
Talk & pray to the Shepherd."🙏🌹