You Don't Have To Be The Rock
Her eyes held a stale look of determination, like bread that had set out too long. She tried to hide the weariness, but deep lines on her face betrayed her efforts. I watched her plop down on a bench, and brush a few strands of hair from her face. That’s when I felt my heart begin to stir.



We were met at the door by a frantic woman hurrying us inside with jumbled words and erratic gestures. She showed us to a middle-aged man lying face down on the floor. I bent down and gave him a shake. That’s all it took to realize the man was dead.
I rubbed sweat out of my eyes and took a quick glance around the stuffy room. People were milling around doing whatever it is people do while they’re trying not to work out. Checking Facebook, changing Pandora stations, writing a book (I’m looking at you 
I didn’t want to be at the gym.
The 4th of July. What a happy occasion. Especially when it involves a beach with pristine, white sand. That’s what it was for me and my family. That is until the group next to us started blastin’ the scene with profanity-laced gansta rap.
“Alright. Just a few more steps…that’s it. Now, have a seat on the stretcher and we’ll get going.”
This is a article from guest Beth Bacarella.
I love my local hardware store. It’s actually Ace Hardware but they’ve managed to give it a family-owned feeling. They also support a local Christian radio station which is pretty cool.
Enjoy this thought provoking article by my good friend Laurie Hilgers. 








