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Who’s Helping You?

Written by Aaron Williams on .

1 Kings 19:19-21    “Elijah went straight out and found Elisha …in a field …at work plowing;…. Elijah went up to him and threw his cloak over him.   20 Elisha deserted the oxen, ran after Elijah…".  21 So Elisha left; he took his yoke of oxen and butchered them. He made a fire with the plow and tackle and then boiled the meat — a true farewell meal for the family. Then he left and followed Elijah, becoming his right-hand man.” 

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Spread Love

Written by Contributor on .

At the end of last week, the world watched in sheer devastation when we heard news out of Newtown, Connecticut.

A gunman walked into Sandy Hook Elementary School and opened fire, killing 26 people, including 20 elementary school children.

It was with heavy hearts that so many watched, with jaws unhinged, as news reports continued to share more news about the incident, seemingly, every minute.

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Cowardice

Written by Sarge on .

Whenever there’s a tragedy, we hear the cries for greater controls, more legislation, abundant regulation and more restrictive oversight of anything remotely approaching violence. People want more firearms control. The restrictors become constrictors of constitutional guarantees as they try for a choke-hold on people’s right to protect themselves. They expect the government to intercede when danger and violence confront them.

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What’s My Age Again?

Written by Contributor on .

Recently when I was working at the front desk of a local hotel I stood a quarter on its side. I know, right. It was pretty sweet. It stood there on its side--suspended, almost magically--for over 30 minutes until I accidentally knocked it over. I tried for several more minutes to get it to stand back like it was until I finally realized "I've got far more important things to do with my time than stand quarters on their sides."

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Offended

Written by Sarge on .

Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack’s declaration rural America is becoming irrelevant sent me mind-stumbling back to a point early in my writing career when I entered a contest awarding a plaque for the much vaunted title of: Best Regular Columnist. I, and dozens of other struggling writers, were to be graded against each other’s personally categorized colleagues as denoted by the subscription sales of our “home” newspapers.

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