Words matter. Fellow Americans and the rest of the world watched as President Trump called for the large group of his supporters to “walk to the capitol” after implanting the thoughts of “You will never take back our country with weakness. We will never give up. We will never concede. We will not take it anymore.” Earlier in the day his oldest son, Don Jr., challenged sitting members of Congress that wouldn’t support his father by stating “We’re coming for you!” This wasn’t campaign rhetoric, these were threats, challenges, and ultimatums and they knew exactly what they were doing. They wanted insurrection. They wanted people to do their dirty work, and the people did.

Our U.S. Constitution was tested this week.

The South Dakota legislature will convene for its annual session in only twelve days, and from a distance, it doesn’t appear as if it’s ready for this mid-pandemic session. Rep. Linda Duba of Sioux Falls announced this week that she will not attend the legislative session in person until she is vaccinated for COVID-19. She intends to meet all her obligations remotely, but at the moment, that is not considered an option.

By Eliza Blue Ten years ago this week, I left Minneapolis and rolled into a tiny town on the prairie. It was meant to be a temporary adventure, but when I crossed the Missouri River, and the landscape abruptly shifted to moonscape, I started to cry.

I have missed many funerals in my life, and we have all missed funerals of late, obeying rules which may or may not reduce other funerals. Some funerals I have missed occurred while I was away and didn’t hear about the person’s passing until the services were over and done.

As we close out the year, I want to thank our readers, local and around the country, our advertisers and printing customers, our news sources and contributors, our hardworking staff, our suppliers, our printers at the Mobridge Tribune, and the US Postal Service. If you’re reading this, I thank you too.

Imagine the very worst type of people committing the worst kind of crimes without a single regret and no punishment yet they repeat the sins time after time they repeat the sins time after time They don’t care who is harmed by their actions who is robbed, who is maimed, or who is killed who is robbed, who is maimed, or who is killed they live life this way from the start of each day in their darkest of souls for the thrill Imagine the very best type of person having never committed a crime no sin to his name and no guilt and no shame whom the prophets foretold before his time He preached of love everlasting and forgiving what others have done he stood in our place through his mercy and grace fought the forces of evil and won This man who was beaten and bloodied who was spit on and nailed to a cross who was whipped and stabbed and placed dead on a slab and for our sins paid the ultimate cost was the same little child in a manger the God who would walk among men sent here to claim willing souls in God’s name before this world ever began before this world ever began It’s not about the worst type of people we are all labeled guilty at birth from unethical wins to the smallest of sins from unethical wins to the smallest of sins our misdeeds cast long shadows on earth But our savior hears cries in the darkness from our mansion or our prison cell he’ll wipe clean our slate, trade his love for our hate and save us from burning in hell So as you settle down for the evening full of turkey or ham on Christmas Eve with gifts all around you as loved ones surround you appreciate just why we believe This child who we celebrate this evening grew to wipe all transgressions from our past he took the sin and the pain and turned our loss into gain he took the sin and the pain and turned our loss into gain for a life that would eternally last So if you can, save a seat at your table for Jesus and all he has done to the young and the old, tell it loud, tell it bold “We gather to celebrate God’s son” Then enjoy all the gifts and the laughter and the fellowship and joy around the tree and the fellowship and joy around the tree But please give a nod to our glorious God and the gift that he gave you and me.

Two years ago, on New Year’s Day, I went out walking to the small pasture where our horses run wild during the winter months. The day was cool but not cold, snowy but not so snowy that I couldn’t hike comfortably across the fields, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky. There was a ceiling of pearly gray clouds above me that left only a thin strip of blue for the light to slip through, but the golden beams shimmering below the cover of clouds illuminated the fields and the sparkling crust of snow. In the distance, the horses galloped across the convergence of land and sky and light, their tails lifted high with the delight of their own powerful movement.

This week, temperatures finally dipped below freezing for the first time in a month. With no moisture in the forecast, a chilly, but mostly gray and brown Christmas season appeared inevitable. The sled we’d taken out after the first blizzard sat forlornly by the porch, the frosty holiday decorations we’d hung oddly incongruous with the view outside the house. Then we woke up on Saturday to a fog so thick it had painted every bush and blade of grass a shimmering white, pearling the pastures and tree breaks for as far as the eye could see. The kids were thrilled.

When the ice crystals form on the corn stalks and wheat and the geese take to flight before the low sun retreats the deer take a break from their running around and settle down in the grass where the sun warms the ground and gaze at each other in the quietest way remembering those who aren’t with them today They survived hunting season to rest where they are laying in this game that they don’t have a choice to be playing When the last shot has sounded and the last bullet has whizzed by in these briefest of moments do they pause to ask why? Or, content in the moment, do they just let the sun warm them a little before the next time to run? Do they see the big picture…do they think like we do? Would they try to fight back if they had the means to? Do they wonder why one day, we take from their herd and half a moon later, not a gun can be heard? When the last shot has sounded and they finally sleep do they pray just as we do for their soul to keep? And if they were to die when next they wake did they dream of a Lord for their soul to take? Did the God who provided us beasts of the earth make a side bet with the deer for all they are worth? I sometimes find myself hoping that God made a deal with the beasts of the field if they supplied the meal. May the taken be resting up high near the sun protected forever from the sound of the gun..