Author: Rhonda Schrock

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Nov 09, 2012

How to slay phantoms, find joy

In the light of the morning, there’s heaviness. “God’s in control.”Over and over, I repeat these words. This, I know. This, I believe. This, I proclaim. But along the horizon, storm

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Nov 07, 2012

When elections unsettle (know this)

Ask any Israelite if it mattered which king was put in. Ask them how they suffered under bad kings and prospered under good ones. Ask them about life under Ahab

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Nov 06, 2012

From potty training to college drop-offs, thanks for being there

I never saw it coming. Not as a girl growing up on the Kansas plains. Not as a bride relocating to the North. Not as the young mother of a

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Nov 02, 2012

When surprises come (say yes)

“Are you in line?” I say, not wanting to budge (a cardinal sin if you’re a kindergartener).  He nods. “Do you write in the Goshen paper?” he says at last.

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Oct 31, 2012

And one day, Heaven

We’re walking along, The Mister and I, down our country road. Fields lie bare on either hand, having felt the cut of the combine’s blade. Night is falling, and behind

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Oct 30, 2012

Writer recaps Olympic highlights, gives thanks that her training is done

That was quick. For four years, you waited with bated breath as weeks and months crept by. You had birthday, birthday, birthday and, well, birthday, and then it was time.

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Oct 29, 2012

Dear runner beloved

Turning to the sacred text, there it is, the story of the 1 and the 99. The story of the sheep gone missing and the Shepherd who pursued. The tale

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Oct 26, 2012

Not educated, but empowered

Her daughter’s standing there, all curly-headed. “Mama’s moved,” she says, smiling, too. And then she tells me, this petite girl, and earnest, about her job. She’s working just now in

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Oct 23, 2012

Columnist has questions for the Romneys, but won’t be taking any pictures

It’s the season for celebrity sightings. Not that I’ve seen any, mind you, but folks I know have had some excitement. In our small town, we’re not exactly overrun with

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Oct 19, 2012

Of bravery and Buddha, winter and spring

After he’s gone and I’ve written a bit, I pack my girlish backpack, grab my BOP (Bright Orange Purse) and dash over to his office. He waves me back to

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