Nurturing Generations

02/02/2026

6-year-old Carly Elizabeth Tillery has been missing for over 10 months since March 7, 2025 in Jacksonville, Florida. The Jacksonville Sheriff's Office confirmed to Stay Inspired News that Carly's disappearance is part of an active and ongoing criminal investigation. Police said the child is considered endangered.

Carly has brown eyes, brown hair, is approximately 3'0" tall, and weighs about 40 pounds, according to the FDLE. Her poster is listed on the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children.

Anyone with information is asked to contact the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office at 1-906-630-0500 or the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children at 1-800-843-5678.

(Photo: National Center for Missing & Exploited Children)

02/02/2026

The Brat Bhride (Brigid's Cloak), is a piece of cloth, shawl, ribbon, handkerchief, or scarf that was tied or spread over a bush, tree, gate or on a window sill on 31st January - the eve before Brigid's Day.

It was put outside before sunset for Brigid to bless during the night as she passed by and then brought back inside before sunrise on 1st February.

This blessing by Brigid is thought to have given healing and protective qualities to the cloth which would be used in the home to help ease headaches, sore throat, and illness over the next 12 months.

It would be used too during childbirth and also to provide safety during a journey.

🌿💜🌿

02/02/2026

It's not just the difficulty of making the decision, it's also about having to answer difficult questions or experience accusations. ⁠
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Going no contact is a decades long process. Many estranged parents will claim that the decision came out of nowhere without knowing their child has made attempts to have conversations or care-take a parent so they might mature and become the parent they need to be. It is often the hardest decision a client will make while making themselves highly vulnerable to criticism from family and society.⁠
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Whether you are heading towards no or low contact or already in it, don’t lose sight of the truth and prepare yourself for criticism for those who aren’t interested in knowing your story or the impact. ⁠
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They weren't there, and their criticism is often rooted in the fact that they don't want to feel things about family.

02/02/2026

A teenager never stops needing affection… they just stop asking for it.

Many parents believe their child no longer wants affection because they no longer seek it. But the truth is, they stop asking because they’ve learned they won’t receive it.

At three years old, they hug you endlessly.
At thirteen, they push you away—but inside, their heart is trembling.

And if, in that moment, you’re not the one who reaches out, if you don’t set your pride aside, if you don’t cross that invisible wall they built out of fear, the bond begins to grow cold.

After an argument, they shut themselves in. You feel hurt and decide not to approach.
But while you wait for them to make the first move, they’re on the other side, staring at the ceiling, carrying a doubt that hurts more than any punishment:
What if they don’t love me like they used to?

Many teenagers seem to reject affection,
but in reality, they don’t know how to receive it without feeling weak.
And many parents pull away out of pride, fear of rejection, or the belief that it’s no longer needed.

But it is needed.
Very much so.

A hug, a brief word, a hand on the shoulder can calm a teenager who feels broken.

It’s not losing authority.
It’s reminding them that even in conflict, love doesn’t disappear.

Because when love is withheld out of pride, it feels like abandonment.
And that abandonment leaves wounds that can last for years.

02/02/2026

Please share this post to bring this child home.

Stop for a moment and really look at her face. This is a child. Twelve years old. Old enough to laugh loud, dream big, and believe the world will protect her. Since January 2, 2026, that world has gone quiet for Bakari M. Jones.
She disappeared from Phoenix, Arizona. Days have passed. Nights have dragged on. Life kept moving for everyone else, but for one family, time froze the moment Bakari did not come home.
She is not a headline. She is not a trend. She is someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. Someone who left behind a bed that has not been slept in, shoes by the door that have not been worn, and a family living in a constant state of fear and prayer.
If you are a parent or a grandparent, imagine this. Imagine lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the last day you saw your child. Wondering if she is cold. Wondering if she is hungry. Wondering if she is scared and calling your name when no one answers. That kind of pain burns. It does not fade. It gets heavier with every sunrise.
Too often, our girls disappear and the noise fades fast. Their stories slip down the page. Their names stop being said. Silence takes over, and silence is dangerous. Silence is how children stay missing.
Bakari is twelve. She is Black. She is vulnerable. And she deserves urgency, outrage, and action. The same action we would demand if she were our own.
Do not let her become a memory people talk about years from now with regret and what ifs. She is here now. She matters now. Her life is still unfolding, and it is on all of us to help bring her home.
If you know anything, even the smallest detail, contact Phoenix Police Department at (602) 262 6151. Share her face. Say her name out loud. Be the noise that breaks through the silence.
Bakari M. Jones is not forgotten. Her family is waiting. And until she is home, we should be too.

01/30/2026

Great article for Athletes looking for an edge:

🩸 It’s not just a bruise—it’s a biological switch.

We’ve all seen the purple circles.

From Olympic swimmers to your favorite CrossFit coach, cupping therapy has been trending for years.

Most people assume it’s just for deep tissue release or pain relief.

But a groundbreaking 2025 study just completely changed how we look at those marks.

Researchers published their findings in PLOS ONE, focusing specifically on university baseball players.

They wanted to see if cupping did more than just loosen tight shoulders.

They split the athletes into groups: one received real "dry cupping" suction (-400 mmHg), and the other got a "sham" version with barely any pressure.

They measured them for 8 weeks during intense preseason conditioning.

The results were wild.

The athletes who got the real cupping didn’t just feel better.

Their bodies physically recovered faster at a nervous system level.

The study found that cupping significantly improved the recovery of the Autonomic Nervous System (ANS).

Specifically, it helped the athletes switch out of "Sympathetic" mode.

That’s your body’s "fight or flight" stress response—the state that burns energy and halts recovery.

And it switched them into "Parasympathetic" mode.

That’s the "rest and digest" state where actual growth and repair happen.

In the high-stress world of athletics, the ability to flip that switch quickly is the difference between burnout and a breakthrough.

So the next time you see those purple circles, don't just think "pain relief."

Think of them as a remote control for your nervous system. 🧠

References: Chen, C. L., & Tang, J. S. (2025). Effects of dry cupping on exercise, autonomic activity and sleep in baseball players during preseason and in-season conditioning. PLOS ONE, 20(2), e0319479.

01/22/2026

"STOP! Just stop treating him like garbage!"
My 16-year-old grandson’s voice cracked as he yelled at his own mother. The music cut out. The guests froze mid-conversation. I stood there, clutching a small gift bag, praying the floor would open and swallow me.
My name is Arthur. I’m 71. Three years ago, I lost my wife—my everything. The silence in our old house has been unbearable ever since.
I have one son, Mark, 42, a solid man swallowed by his corporate job. He’s married to Jessica, and they have two kids: Leo, 16, and Sophie, 11.
I used to believe family was unbreakable. But after the funeral, something changed. Jessica’s warmth faded. It began with little things—sighs when I arrived, glances at her watch.
“Arthur, it’s getting late. You don’t want to drive in the dark,” she’d say after barely an hour.
One Saturday, I drove over just to see the grandkids. I missed their laughter. Jessica cracked the door open. “What do you need, Arthur?”
“Just wanted to say hi.”
“They’re busy—homework, sports. Not a good time.”
“I can wait on the porch…”
“No. Please call first next time.”
The door closed. I walked back to my car with a knot in my chest. I called Mark. Straight to voicemail.
The rejections piled up: soccer games, piano recitals, “They’re sick,” “They’re napping.” I was slowly being erased.
Then the secret texts started.
“Grandpa, why don’t you come over anymore?” — Leo.
“I try, kiddo. Your mom says you’re swamped.”
“We’re just watching Netflix. Mom won’t let you in.”
That one broke something inside me.
Last month was my 71st birthday. I sat alone in the kitchen with a store-bought cupcake and a single candle. No one came. Mark texted: “Happy B-day Dad. Crazy week—let’s catch up soon.”
The next day, Leo showed up at my door, sweaty from biking five miles. “Sorry about yesterday, Grandpa.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. Mom said you wanted to be alone. She wouldn’t let us come.” He handed me a wooden frame he’d made in shop class—a photo of us fishing. “I miss you. Sophie does too. She wrote you a card, but Mom threw it away.”
I hugged him and cried like a child.
Two weeks ago was Father’s Day. I waited by the phone. Nothing. That night, Leo called from his closet, whispering, “I begged them to invite you to the BBQ. Mom said it was for her husband, not you.”
“It’s fine, Leo.”
“It’s NOT fine. You’re a dad too! Why is she so mean?”
I cried myself to sleep again.
Then came Sophie’s 11th birthday party last Friday. Mark actually called: “Dad, come for cake.”
I went, nervous. Jessica rolled her eyes when I walked in but held it together in front of the neighbors.
Sophie tore into gifts—iPads, designer clothes, pricey sneakers. Then she reached mine: the exact doll she’d pointed out in a catalog months earlier. Not extravagant, but thoughtful.
“Oh, Grandpa! It’s the one I wanted!” She threw her arms around me.
Jessica let out a sharp laugh. “Really, Arthur? You shouldn’t waste your Social Security on… that. We could’ve gotten her a better one.”
The room went silent. Heat flooded my face. “It’s just a small thing,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, we can tell,” she muttered, turning away. Mark stared at the floor.
That’s when Leo stood. His chair scraped harshly.
“Why are you like this?” His voice trembled.
“Excuse me?” Jessica snapped.
“You’re a bully. You’re always mean to him. You lie to keep him away.”
“Leo, go to your room.”
“NO!” he shouted. “I’m done! Grandpa’s a good man! He’s alone! He just wants to see us, and you treat him like trash!”
Everyone stared.
“Leo, enough,” Mark said quietly.
Leo turned on his father. “No, Dad! YOU’RE the problem too! You let her treat your own father like dirt! Why don’t you stand up for him? He raised you!”
Tears streamed down Leo’s face as he looked at me. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I should’ve said it sooner.”
I pulled him into a hug. We both sobbed in front of strangers.
Jessica’s face twisted. “See? He’s turning my son against me!”
Mark finally lifted his eyes. He looked at his wife, then at Leo and me. Something shifted.
“It’s not him, Jessica,” he said, voice steady. “The boy’s right. You’ve been cruel, and I’ve been weak. It stops now.”
“Are you choosing him over me?” she hissed.
“I’m choosing family. He’s my father. He’s welcome here anytime.”
Jessica stormed out, pulling a crying Sophie behind her. The party fizzled awkwardly, but I didn’t care.
As I left, Leo grabbed my arm. “Grandpa, I’ve got your back. Always.”
“Thank you, son. You gave me my dignity back.”
Sophie slipped out the side door and hugged my leg. “I love the doll, Grandpa. Don’t listen to Mom.”
Things are different now. Mark calls every few days. The kids come over on weekends. Jessica stays cold and quiet—she knows the ground has shifted.
Yesterday, Leo said, “Grandpa, when I get my own place, you’re moving in with me. You’ll never be alone again.” Sophie yelled from the next room, “No, with me!”
I laughed—really laughed—for the first time in years.
Sometimes a child’s eyes see what grown-ups refuse to face. My 16-year-old grandson did what my 42-year-old son couldn’t: he stood up for what mattered.
Cherish your elders. We don’t need your money or your packed calendar. We just need to know we still count.

01/19/2026

When you find out at 9:42pm that your daughter passed her Counselor Preparation Comprehensive Examination!!! I am so excited that Sage is on her way to a career that will change and support so many lives! She starts her las semester this week and this mama is so proud......Congratulations Sage!!!!

01/09/2026