fully shah dewa

@pln_123 tlng dibantu, mati lampu di daerah rumah saya. Ini yg kedua dalam seminggu ini. Sebelumnya mati di hari Selasa (3 Mar 2026) dari jam 16.00 s.d kira2 jam 22.00. Lokasi di daerah karangasembaru, sleman, yogyakarta. Sebelah utara fak teknik UNY. Tq

Sudah normal lagi. Thanks

@pln_123 tlng dibantu, mati lampu dari jam 16.00 s.d 21.26. Area sleman yogyakarta, utara fak teknik UNY

"My kid came home from school talking about the weird lunch lady. "Mom, she's so strange. She memorizes everyone's name by the third day. Like, all 600 kids." I figured she was exaggerating. Teenagers do that. Then parent-teacher night happened. I was running late, hadn't eaten, saw the cafeteria was open. Grabbed a sandwich. The lunch lady, older woman with gray hair in a hairnet, was cleaning tables. "You're Zoe's mom," she said without looking up. I stopped. "How'd you know?" "Same eyes. She sits table seven, always picks the apples nobody wants because they're bruised. Drinks chocolate milk even though she's lactose intolerant. Hurts herself rather than waste food." I stood there, stunned. "You know this about my daughter?" "I know it about all of them." She kept wiping tables. Started talking, not to me exactly, just... talking. "Marcus, table three, his dad left last year. Always takes double servings on Fridays because there's less food at home on weekends. Jennifer counts calories out loud to punish herself. Brett throws away lunches his mom packs because kids make fun of the ethnic food, but he's starving by sixth period. Ashley's parents are divorcing, she stress-eats in the bathroom." "Why are you telling me this?" She finally looked at me. "Because you're all at parent-teacher conferences talking about grades. Nobody's talking about this. About who's eating, who's not, who's hurting." "What do you do about it?" "What can I do? I'm the lunch lady. I make sure Marcus gets those extra servings without asking. I tell Jennifer the calorie counts are wrong, lower than they are. I pack Brett containers of his mom's food labeled as 'cafeteria leftovers' so he can eat it without shame. I bought Zoe lactose-free chocolate milk with my own money, tell her we're trying a new brand." I felt like I'd been punched. "Does anyone know you do this?" "The kids who need to know, know. That's enough." I went home and couldn't stop thinking about it. Started asking Zoe questions. She confirmed everything. "Yeah, Mrs. Chen just... sees people. She stopped my friend from... she helped when nobody else noticed." Turns out, Mrs. Chen had worked at that school for 22 years. Made $14 an hour. Knew the story of every struggling kid who came through her lunch line. Never reported it, never made it official, just adjusted portions, swapped items, paid for things quietly. Teachers didn't know the extent. Administrators had no idea. She just showed up, served food, and saved kids in ways nobody measured. Last year, Mrs. Chen had a stroke. Had to retire. The school hired someone new. Efficient. Fast. Didn't learn names. Within three months, the guidance counselor's office was flooded. Kids breaking down. Nobody could figure out why. Until one kid finally said it: "Mrs. Chen knew when we were drowning. She threw life preservers disguised as extra tater tots. Now nobody's watching." The school brought Mrs. Chen back. Part-time. Not to serve food. Just to be there. They called her position "Student Wellness Observer." She's 68 now, walks with a cane, can't lift heavy trays anymore. But she still memorizes all 600 names by the third day. Still knows who needs what. Still saves kids during lunch periods when everyone else is just serving food. My daughter graduated last month. In her speech, she thanked Mrs. Chen. "Some people teach math. Some teach history. Mrs. Chen taught us that being seen is sometimes the only thing standing between surviving and giving up." The whole cafeteria stood up. Turns out, weird lunch ladies who memorize names? They're the most important people in the building." . Let this story reach more hearts.... . Ai image is for demonstration purpose only. . By Grace Jenkins

“I couldn’t have children of my own… so God sent me the sons who changed my life. My name is Jack Lawson, and for most of my life I rode alone — on the road and in the world. My years in the U.S. Army changed my body in ways I didn’t expect, and I learned I wouldn’t be able to have children of my own. Growing up without parents, that news hit hard. I knew what it felt like to face life without someone in your corner. So I made a decision. If I couldn’t have a family the usual way, I’d build one with my heart. I met Malik, Eli, and Aaron at a group home. Three boys who needed a dad, and a dad who needed them just as much. Aaron was born with Down syndrome, Eli looked after him, and Malik stepped right into big-brother energy. Twenty years have passed. My sons are kind, hardworking, and steady men. People tell me they’re lucky. But the truth is, I’m the lucky one. Adopting them was the greatest road my life ever took.” . AI image is for Demonstration purpose only. . Credit: Lola Jones

"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces. But I see everything. Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments. One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?" "6:15," he said, confused. "Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it." He blinked. "You... you can do that?" "I can now," I said. Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?" "Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing." He cried. Right there in the parking lot. Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic. But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!" "Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel." He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us." The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over." Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it. But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note, "Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends" People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket. I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece." So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones. Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees. It's not glamorous. But it's everything." Let this story reach more hearts.... Credit: Mary Nelson

At age 17, she was rejected from college. At age 25, her mother died from the disease. At age 26, she moved to Portugal to teach English. At age 27, she got married. Her husband abused her. Her daughter was born. At age 28, she got divorced and was diagnosed with severe depression. At age 29, she was a single mother living on welfare. At age 30, she didn't want to be on this earth. But she directed all her passion into doing the one thing she could do better than anyone else. And that was writing. At age 31, she finally published her first book. At age 35, she released four books and was named Author of the Year. At age 42, she sold 11 million copies of her new book on the first release day. This woman is J.K. Rowling. Remember how she considered suicide at age 30? Harry Potter is a global brand worth more than 15 billion dollars. Never give up. Believe in yourself. Be passionate. Work hard. It’s never too late. She is J.K. Rowling

🖐 intention for my father in law for speedy recovery after admitted to hospital 3 days ago. Also the health for me and all my family

Mohon bersabar -pusat-

Happy birthday, Jürgen 🎂❤️

KEJANGGALAN LAPORAN HARTA KEKAYAAN (LHKPN) DEDY MANDARSYAH, AYAH LADY AURELLIA PRAMESTI *dilanjut jika banyak yg RT*

We play until Arab teams score

@tomowidayat @AMAZlNGNATURE Wahhh,,, cetho ngganteng akuuu

@AMAZlNGNATURE Saiki dadi pawang ulo to mas? @dabfully

Masterfully handling and capturing a Cobra.

Paten kali abang ini,,,

Yang setuju hak siar Timnas diambil @VidioSports RETWEET #TimnasDay

@fananinurhuda Fan,,, ah

orang pindah ke desa dibilang akan merusak desa. orang pindah ke kota dibilang akan jadi beban kota. 🤷‍♂️

@pln_123 . Mati lampu di daerah utara selokan Mataram UNY Yogyakarta. Sudah lebih dr 1 jam. Thanks

Surround yourself with people who want to see you win

Musik musik bosaaannn, s** bosaaaannnn

🤸🤸