Let me share some thoughts with you. Let me be a source of encouragement and support. May you never forget your dreams and remember miracles happen every day. Let us laugh, have fun, and inspire one another.
If you watched the first video of Joshua, a ten-year-old, non-verbal autistic child who also suffers from severe epilepsy then you will enjoy the follow-up video. We are trying to find guidance, help and support for this remarkable child and your contribution is a blessing.
Joshua is 10 years old. He has never said his mother's name
out loud.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't have something to say.
This is Joshua Trichardt. He has severe autism, he's
non-verbal, and he lives with epilepsy. He can't tell his parents when
something hurts, or when something scares him. He relies completely on routine,
structure, and the people who understand him — to feel safe.
Every smile. Every small achievement. Every moment of
connection — his parents, Louis and Joulene, hold onto every single one of
them.
Right now, Joshua is at a special needs school where he is
safe, cared for, and understood. But from next year, his parents will no longer
be able to afford his school fees.
They've applied for a place at Con Amore, a public special
needs school — but the waiting list is long, and no one can tell them how long
they'll have to wait.
Their greatest fear
is simple: that Joshua will have to leave his school before another place opens
up. And if that happens, one of them will have no choice but to stop working —
because Joshua cannot be left unsupervised, not even for a moment.
It's not just school fees. Every month, this family is
covering epilepsy medication, neurologist appointments, therapy, doctor's
visits, nappies, and the daily essentials that come with caring for a child
with complex needs.
As parents, they say
this is their worst nightmare. Not because they're asking for something extra —
but because they're fighting to hold onto the one thing that is already working
for their son.
To keep Joshua in his current school while they wait for a
place at Con Amore, this family needs approximately R9,200 (USD 570) a month.
That's it. That's the
ask. Not a luxury — just the chance to keep their son in the one place he
already knows he's safe.
If you can give, any amount helps — every donation goes
directly toward keeping Joshua in school, and covering his medication, therapy,
and care while his family waits for a place at Con Amore.
And if you can't give right now, you can still help — by
sharing this video. Every share is another chance for Joshua's story to reach
someone who can.
Joshua deserves the same chance to learn, grow, and feel
safe as every other child.
Thank you for taking the time to hear his story.
The CLR Foundation is committed to helping Joshua stay safe
and loved.
Every time you choose yourself… you teach the world how to choose you too.
It sounds simple, but it’s not always easy. We’re taught to put others first. To say yes when we mean no. To shrink, adjust, and compromise— just to keep the peace. And over time… we start to forget where we stand in our own lives.
But every small decision you make— what you accept, what you allow, what you walk away from— it sends a message. Not just to others… but to yourself. It says, “This is what I deserve.” “This is what I’m willing to accept.” “This is how I value myself.”
When you constantly put yourself last, people learn to meet you there. But when you begin to choose yourself— with your time, your energy, your boundaries— something shifts. Not because you’re demanding more… but because you’re no longer settling for less.
Choosing yourself doesn’t mean shutting people out. It doesn’t mean becoming selfish or distant. It means being clear. It means being honest. It means respecting your own needs enough… to stop ignoring them. And the more you do that, the more the world adjusts. People respond differently. Boundaries are respected. Energy changes. Because you’ve shown them how.
So if you’re waiting for others to see your worth… start by showing it to yourself. Choose yourself—again and again, in the smallest ways. Because every time you do… you’re teaching the world exactly how to treat you.
And if you want to watch the video here is the link -
Sirens
split the distance—one, then another—rushing toward town. Patty didn’t flinch.
She kept her eyes on the water and counted the beats between wails, steady as a
metronome. The sound wasn’t a warning; it was confirmation.
Behind her,
voices rose and fell—fragments carried on the air: ambulance… nursing home…
eight of them… how could this happen? People reached for the kindest
explanation first, as if kindness could make the story safer. Patty listened
without turning. She’d stopped believing in accidents a long time ago.