Got it this morning.
Had no idea mature human beings could or would hunt hogs from helicopters, but this Texas outfit thought I might just take a shot.
Ten years ago, we stayed at a gorgeous South Dakota hunting lodge, way off-season. Even though we were the only guests, the place reeked of testosterone (more taxidermy than a Buffalo Bill museum). At my wife’s request, we stayed only one night. That place must have sold our names to someone else, who sold the addresses to these west Texas desperados. Now I’m on their list.
This summer I gave some bucks to a couple of pols Lou Dobbs calls “liberal Dems.” Within a week my inbox read like a who’s who — Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Jimmy Carter, and a host of political hopefuls from all over the country. Most of our mail, postal and digital, asks for what I can give. Daily, I still get something from John Ossoff.
A host of non-profits too. I’ve got a role in a local NPR station who does twice-a-year fund drives (yes, we have tote bags). This year when it was my turn during fund-drive week, the manager had us out in a nature center taking pledges, a place where, as a bonus, each and every donation also fed mice to the injured raptors getting healthy out back.
Places who will take whatever’s in your wallet abound, some describing far more urgency than the one I’m touting right now. The Reformed Journal is just one place to donate, not even that aspirational an enterprise. Why should you send us a twenty (or more) for a website like ours? Why support us? I’ll give you one answer: you’re investing in beauty.
Odd thing to say, I know. But on our pages this year, there’s been loads of political opinion, plus hundreds of testimonies, endless reflections, thoughtful meditations—all observant ideas to consider. Trust me—I’m a reader too.
My own contributions have been stories I dig up from the soil of our histories. I try my level best to tell them with as much grace as this son of Adam can muster. I want to make music with my words, to phrase things fittingly to meet the King—and for our readers. I hope those stories stay with. We all hope the same.
The Twelve clearly lacks the firepower of a helicopter hunt over west Texas, but if you keep up with it daily, as I do, you’ll never lose the joy—and the beauty–of the journey we all are on.
Our aim (get it?) is to increase our firepower in 2021. We expect The Twelve to keep humming along, but we’ve got some fresh ideas about offering more on the Reformed Journal side, making a smoother connection between the two, some new leadership, a new look website and more. Stay tuned for further details. Remember, it’s about beauty.
Spot us a twenty, won’t you? A monthly gift would be especially sweet.
Next year? Tote bags.
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I can’t wait for The Twelve tote bag! Or T-shirts. Or coffee mugs. Or bumper stickers! 2021 is going to be a great year. Sign me up!
Jim, thanks for the note about heli-hog-hunting–or is it hellish hog-hunting. It’s on my bucket list. B4 that, though, we’ll eagerly donate. Blessings, ya’ll!