Kelly Hunt's Road to Recovery

02/15/2026

Had to explore and play piano after church. Love her!

02/14/2026

With Salad KraZe – I just got recognized as one of their top fans! 🎉

02/12/2026

Salad KraZe win TODAY! Veterans honored on the 11th of EACH month with a FREE menu Item! My choice today: Large Autumn Crunch salad and it was so good! Mark it on your calendar Veterans - 11th of each month. 🙂 The Cherry Berry smoothie is ridiculously great, too.

01/31/2026

Kendi made this game up! Love you! Focused and adorable. 🥰

01/22/2026

"My son brought home a classmate who smelled like ci******es and wore the same shirt three days straight.
Connor's eight. Came home Tuesday and said, "Mom, can Aiden come over? His house doesn't have internet for homework."

Aiden showed up. Skinny kid, unwashed hair, shoes held together with duct tape. Flinched when I touched his shoulder.
"You hungry?" I asked.
He nodded. Ate four sandwiches without looking up.

While the boys did homework, I noticed Aiden had no backpack. Just papers shoved in his jacket. His math worksheet had the wrong answers, but clearly he'd tried hard. Real hard.
"Aiden, want me to check your work?"
"My dad usually helps, but he's..... busy." The way he said 'busy' made my stomach hurt.
Connor whispered to me later, "Aiden's dad is sick. Real sick. And his mom left last year."
Aiden started coming over daily. Always hungry. Always grateful. Never asked for anything.

One evening, he didn't leave. Just sat on our couch at 8 p.m., staring at his phone.
"Aiden? Doesn't your dad wonder where you are?"
"He's sleeping. He sleeps a lot now."
Red flags everywhere. I drove him home. The apartment was dark, freezing cold. His dad answered the door, rail-thin, coughing. "Sorry. I work nights, sleep days. Aiden knows to manage."
He was lying. No night job. Just too sick to care for his kid.

I did something maybe I shouldn't have. Called CPS? No. I just started showing up.
Brought dinner "by accident-made too much." Picked up Aiden for school "since we're heading that way anyway." Bought Connor new shoes and coincidentally grabbed a pair "in the wrong size, can Aiden use them?"

Aiden's dad, Mike, finally broke down one Saturday. "I have stage four liver disease. No insurance. Can't work. Can't afford treatment. I'm trying to keep us afloat until...... until I can't anymore. Then he goes to foster care."
"What if he didn't?" I said.

My husband and I aren't rich. We're barely middle class. But we had a spare room.
Mike moved in three months ago. Hospice comes twice weekly. He's in our downstairs bedroom. Aiden's upstairs in what used to be my craft room.

It's not legal guardianship. It's not foster care. It's just...... what you do.
Mike's got maybe six months left. He watches Aiden and Connor play video games from his bed, tears streaming down his face. "He's laughing again," he whispers. "I forgot what that sounded like."

Last week, Aiden called me "Mama Lisa" by accident. Turned bright red. "Sorry, I meant"
"It's okay, sweetheart," I said.
Mike heard it. Squeezed my hand. "Thank you for letting me stay long enough to see him okay."

I don't know what happens when Mike dies. Maybe Aiden stays. Maybe we figure out custody. Maybe it gets complicated.
But right now? Two boys are doing homework at my kitchen table. One of them finally has shoes that fit.
Sometimes saving someone doesn't look like a big heroic moment. Sometimes it looks like extra sandwiches. Wrong-sized shoes. A spare bedroom.

Pay attention to the kid in your child's class who wears the same clothes. Who's always hungry. Who doesn't get picked up on time.
You don't need to be perfect. You just need to notice.
And maybe make one extra sandwich."

Let this story reach more hearts....
Please follow us: Astonishing
By Mary Nelson

01/09/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1Bbf4TsebV/?mibextid=wwXIfr

12/25/2025

❤️

"They found the coats on Thursday morning.

Fifteen winter coats. Good ones, not garbage. Hanging on the chain-link fence outside Lincoln Elementary. No note. No explanation. Just coats, zipped up like ghosts waiting for bodies.

Principal Morris freaked out. Called the police. "Could be stolen," she said. "Could be some kind of prank."
But then Kayla Martinez, eight years old, said her mom worked nights cleaning offices and couldn't afford a winter coat this year. She'd been wearing three hoodies layered up. She touched a purple one on the fence, the right size, and whispered, "Can I?"

Mrs. Alvarez, the PE teacher, said yes before anyone could stop her.
By lunch, all fifteen coats were gone. Fifteen kids who'd been shivering through recess were warm.

The next Thursday? Twenty coats. Different fence, same neighborhood, outside the community center. Then thirty coats appeared at the downtown shelter. Then blankets. Then winter boots.

No cameras ever caught who did it. No social media claims. Just... coats. Every Thursday. All winter long.
The news picked it up. Called them "The Fence Angel." Interviewed grateful families. But nobody knew.
Until March.

Old man died, Earl Hutchins, seventy-one, lived alone in a basement apartment on Fourth Street. When they cleaned out his place, they found receipts. Thrift store receipts. Hundreds of them. He'd been buying every decent winter coat he could find, spending his entire disability check, and hanging them up at night.

His nephew found a journal entry, "Lost my son to exposure in 2004. He was homeless, prideful, wouldn't take handouts. Froze to death behind a dumpster wearing a T-shirt. If I put coats on a fence, nobody has to ask. Nobody has to admit they need help. They just take it. Dignity intact."

I'm Kayla Martinez. I'm sixteen now. That purple coat got me through fourth grade. I never knew Earl. Never got to say thank you.

But last November, I took my babysitting money to Goodwill. Bought six coats. Hung them on that same fence.
My friends saw. They bought coats. Then their parents did. Then the high school started a coat drive, not for a bin, for the fence.

Last Thursday, there were 200 coats. Scarves too. Gloves. We call it "Earl's Fence" now. There's one in Detroit. One in Manchester. One in Vancouver.

I never met the man who saved me from freezing. But I'm becoming him, one coat at a time.
Because the best kind of help doesn't ask for credit. It just hangs there, quiet, waiting for cold hands to find warmth."
Let this story reach more hearts....
Please follow us: Astonishing
By Mary Nelson

12/24/2025

Merry Christmas Eve!

12/20/2025

Some of our 2025 Christmas photos!
Happy holidays, friends! Thank you for supporting me/us in this life journey.
I am grateful! 🌲 Happy Holidays!

12/14/2025

Kendi Cleo's baptism to watch! This was an amazing milestone, service and moment for all of us. We are so proud of her becoming part of the Avon Lake United Church of Christ family who clapped loud to welcome her. 🙂