Hundreds gather to pray for county
'When you look around this room, it is all about unity,' Ashtabula Concerts of Prayer Board President Janie Gildersleeve said as she got the event rolling. The event was the 35th concerts of prayer breakfast that has included speakers ranging from professional athletes to Christian's with a unique life experience.
She urged those in attendance to continue the prayer into next week and beyond.
'It shouldn't end today,' Gildersleeve said.
Eight area residents were chosen to pray for eight different aspects of society, which included churches, the economy, education and youth, families and community, first responders and law enforcement, the military, medical facilities and health care and addiction and homelessness.
A video detailing the power of prayer in the family of Rev. Curtis Cecil. The video brought to life the real life story of his daughter, Dakota, who was in a terrible crash on March 10, 2024.
Cecil said, in the video, the family did not know if their daughter would live or day for the first 20 days and then what her life might be like if she survived.
He credited prayer, and God's sovereignty, with putting the right medical personnel in close access to the crash scene that helped save her life.
Roman Vencill prayed for the economy and area business, and Rev. Tim Kraus prayed for area churches.
James Kimmerle prayed for the military, saying our young men and women perform as the 'tip of the spear' to protect our freedoms. He said he prays daily for his two sons presently serving in the military.
'My legs are out in my car,' Gordon Mapley, who lost parts of both his legs in 2014 after a still unknown disease attacked his body, said. He now has prothesis that he uses, but did not Friday morning.
Mapley detailed how he believes his two sons and himself would not be alive if it were not for the power of prayer. Mapley added he spent seven and a half months in the hospital and the prayers of people from all over the country, and the world, sustained him.
'I was not expected to live,' Mapley said. He said he had been a Christian for about 50 years, but did not have the experiential challenge of facing such a major life experience which helped his faith grow.
Mapley said his son, Andrew also started to have seizures at the age of 36, and his son, Peter had a heart attack at 43.
'Both of my sons and I are here because of prayer and nobody will ever convince me otherwise,' Mapley said.
Mapley said he spent 40 years working in college administration until his retirement in 2019.
He also said he doesn't know why some prayer requests don't seem to be answered, but God wants us to always to bring our requests to him.
'All I know is God wants us to be faithful,' Mapley said.
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USA Today
6 hours ago
- USA Today
Untitled Art's non-alcoholic beers are sometimes boring, sometimes magic
I like non-alcoholic beer. Well, I like the *idea* of non-alcoholic beer. Being able to recreate the relaxing ritual of cracking a beer without the concern of a minor hangover or the massive calorie load of a boozy IPA is a wonderful hypothesis. But for too long, non-alcoholic beer all tasted the same -- crisply carbonated but undeniably loaded down with cereal grains that made you feel you were sipping a bowl of Grape-Nuts, not a lager. That tide has turned in recent years. Breweries, grasping for market share when America is drinking less alcohol than it has since prohibition, have turned to the NA sector for new streams of income. That's meant a rising tide of THC drinks and booze-free beers. Untitled Art has been kicking around in my fridge since back when it was 3rd Sign -- makers of a pretty good porter but shuttered due to distribution issues. In the years since they've experimented wildly across the spectrum of beers and NA beverages and eventually got bought out by Asahi. Those beers are often hit-or-miss, but they're never boring. Big, sweet dessert stouts and bold IPAs were standouts across the backdrop of contract brewing that's helped Octopi expand to a staple in package stores across the country. How does that apply to their non-alcoholic beers? Let's see what we've got. Mango dragonfruit sour: A I'm drinking this one the way God intended. After thoroughly exhausting myself inflating a raft at my daughter's pool. An extremely Dad scenario deserves an extremely Dad beer, and an NA fruited sour? That'll do. Cracking the can unleashes a wave of fruity slightly tangy aromas backed by just a little bit of lactic acid. The first sip is dense complex and rewarding. The dragon fruit is tangy; slightly sour but sweet enough to remain balanced. The hint of bile that you get from some of the worst sours out there is nowhere to be found, relieving me of my greatest fear. That bit of lactic acid in the slightly denser texture makes us feel more like a milkshake beer than many milkshake IPAs. What you get is a dense, surprisingly low calorie beer. Well, not a beer but, you know, something close to it. It clocks in at 90 calories, which is about 60 percent of a soda or a regular beer. At that value. You're getting a lot of flavor at a light beer's toll on your gut. That's a solid trade. The downside is it's not quite a hoppy refresher in the way a hop water or a light beer are. It's dense. It's more of a sipper and it's probably not the first thing I should have grabbed after modestly strenuous activity. That said, I am enjoying the hell out of it. All in all, it's not what I expected in a good way. It's not quite a sour and not quite a traditional NA beer. Instead, it is its own thing. And that's great. West Coast IPA: B+ The smell off the top is hoppy, with just enough of a stale malt lingering in the background to remind you this is a non-alcoholic beer. The first sip is sharp and refreshing. The bitterness of those hops is up front, but not overwhelming. You get a little of that malt and a crisp, dry finish that leaves you wanting more. That helps cover that traditional NA taste. It's still there, but it's minimal thanks to that beefy, but not tongue-scorching, hop cover. It's still undeniably a booze-free beer, but it's packing a lot of flavor beyond that. It's satisfying in a way similar beers are not. The downside is it's not as special as the dragonfruit sour. It's great for a non-alcoholic beer, but it's still operating within those parameters while the sour felt like something new entirely. The result is refreshing and capable of fulfilling the ritual of a full strength beer. Juicy IPA: B- Here's an interesting combination. Will the fruit of a juicy IPA be able to cover up the NA scent and taste so familiar with the genre? It worked wonders with the dragonfruit sour and I have some high hopes here. Cracking the can, however, unleashes a wave of non-alcoholic beer smells. There aren't a lot of fruit or hops involved spilling out of the aluminum. It's malt all the way. The first sip is crisper and more refreshing than I expected. It's not especially fruity or hoppy. It feels a little bit more like a lager than a pale ale. However, it's crisp. The carbonation is on point and that NA taste that you'd expect from the smell coming off the top doesn't overpower you. It's still very much a non-alcoholic beer, but it's not as egregious as some of the others in the category. Still, it feels like it's missing the mark as a pale ale. You get a hint of citrus toward the end of each sip, which is nice. But you don't really get any of the hops. There's nothing here to bring you back. It feels more like a Blue Moon or a Shock Top -- more forgettable than a big bold juicy IPA you would get from a local brewery. Italian Style Pils: B I'm a little bit hesitant with this one. Italian beers, at least the big ones you find out here, are fairly minimal when it comes to hops or other flavors that could wash over the signature taste of non-alcoholic brews. They're crisp and sharp and other adjectives that stand in for refreshing-but-not-quite-easy-drinking. This pours with a lovely, lacy head that dies down to a lingering quarter inch after a minute. The smell off the top is grain and just a bit of hops. That grain is half the Grape-Nut cereal malt that dominates NA beers and half something sunnier. There's a certain brightness involved that, if nothing else, does raise it higher than similar booze-less brews. That battle carries on in the first sip. It's undoubtedly an NA beer, but it's also sweet and crisp. That gives way to a pleasant aftertaste that lands in the middle. Malty, effervescent and with juuuuust a little citrus involved to make everything a bit more complex. These powers combine to make it refreshing and poundable. It's a great warm weather beer, though it holds up well enough regardless of climate. Chocolate Dark Brew: A First thing first: this smells incredible. Cracking the can unleashes a wave of rich chocolate like you just unwrapped one of those $6 bars of cacao. It smells like a fresh mug of hot chocolate. A really nice start. The first sip is thinner than expected. The carbonation is crisp, and while this is heavier than a lager it's about the same mouthfeel as, say, a big juicy IPA. You get that chocolate flavor, but also some roasted porter notes as well. You go from sweet up front to malty before a crisp, not-quite-dry-but-close finish. It's great. What's even better is the lack of NA cereal vibes coming from it. This tastes like a full-fledged chocolate porter. Maybe not a heavy, eight percent beer, but a lighter version. If you put this in a lineup of six similar, full ABV beers and asked me to pick out the impostor I might still land on it, but that's no guarantee. This sounds like faint praise, but almost anyone who's had a bunch of NA beers knows that distinct taste and how it stands out from your regular sip. Not this Dark Brew. It's sweet and crisp and a little complex. Untitled Art went for a dessert beer and wound up making something that would be just about perfect for a fireside fall night. Even without the alcohol. Oktoberfest: B Let's finish with my favorite beer style. Marzens, festbiers, anything that's a malt bomb is gonna be an easy win for me. Can Untitled Art balance those toasty, crisp and refreshing flavors with the inherent cereal-ness of a non-alcoholic beer? It pours with a fluffy white head. It smells mostly like the real thing, though a sweet, Grape-Nut tinge settles in toward the end. While the sweetness carries through on your tongue, that NA taste is minimal. The feeling you get here is Munich-adjacent malt. It's a bit thin and definitely too sugary, but it's not a typical non-alcoholic brew. That leaves it in a weird spot, but kind of a logical one. Untitled Art's best NA beers are sweet -- the sour and the chocolate dark. That sweetness again crops up to mitigate the feel you're drinking a beer with less than 0.5 percent alcohol by volume. That doesn't jive with your typical marzen, it does sorta work here. While I miss the crisp finish of those beers, this is unique, interesting and refreshing. On the other hand, I can put down a liter of Lowenbrau without issue. This? This would be much more difficult. Still, it doesn't taste like NA beer. That's a win. Would I drink it instead of a Hamm's? This a pass/fail mechanism where I compare whatever I'm drinking to my baseline cheap beer. That's the standby from the land of sky-blue waters, Hamm's. So the question to answer is: on a typical day, would I drink Untitled Art's non-alcoholic beers over a cold can of Hamm's? The sour and the chocolate dark are good enough to be sipped regardless of alcohol content. The others helpful recreate the ritual of cracking a beer. All in all, it's a solid lineup so, yes. This is part of FTW's Beverage of the Week series. Here, we mostly chronicle and review beers, but happily expand that scope to any beverage that pairs well with sports. Yes, even cookie dough whiskey.
Newsweek
7 hours ago
- Newsweek
Celibate Christian Sect Grows by 50 Percent
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. An almost extinct celibate Christian sect is enjoying a 50 percent increase in its numbers—going from two members to three. Speaking with NPR, the new member, Sister April Baxter, 59, said she had felt "very moved" after visiting the Shaker community at Sabbathday Lake in New Gloucester, Maine. "Something made me feel like I had to come back," Baxter said. Newsweek has contacted the community at Sabbathday Lake via email. Why It Matters There were once tens of thousands of Shakers in the United States. But in 2017, Sister June Carpenter, 87, and Brother Arnold Hadd, 68, became the only two remaining members of the last active Shaker community in the country after a third member, Sister Francis Carr, died at the age of 89. Their community at Sabbathday Lake was settled in 1783, but their numbers dwindled as the members practice total celibacy. Signe Lynch, left, and Allie Armstrong work in the garden during Herb Garden Clean Up Day at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village in New Gloucester, Maine, on November 6, 2020. Signe Lynch, left, and Allie Armstrong work in the garden during Herb Garden Clean Up Day at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village in New Gloucester, Maine, on November 6, 2020. Daryn Slover/Sun Journal via AP What To Know Baxter came to live at Sabbathday Lake in the spring, according to NPR. She had previously been living in an Episcopal convent for four years. Lloyd Hunt, a member of the official Friends of the Shakers organization, told the outlet that there were more than 1,000 members who believed in Shaker values but were unable to fully commit to the life. The Shakers, formally known as the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing, originated in England in the middle of the 18th century. They were known for ecstatic worship practices, which led to the moniker "Shaking Quakers." Though their style of worship changed long ago, the name stuck. In 1774, a small group of Shakers led by Ann Lee, a blacksmith's daughter, headed to America and formed more than a dozen communities. They practiced equality of the sexes, pacifism, communal ownership of property and total celibacy. At its height in the 19th century, the Shaker community numbered about 5,000, The New York Times reported. Over the course of its history, 19 Shaker communities spread out from New England as far west as Indiana and as far south as Florida, according to the newspaper. What People Are Saying Sister April Baxter told NPR: "Someone said to me, oh, that must have been a really hard decision for you to make. I'm like, no, it wasn't a decision. It's a calling." Brother Arnold Hadd, who believed Shakerism was about emulating the life of Christ through the "three Cs," told NPR: "There's the confession of sin, which is the opening of the mind and the gateway to the church. There's a community of goods. Nobody owns everything—anything, but we all own everything. And celibacy, as Christ was celibate." What Happens Next Baxter has time before she becomes a full member of the Shaker community, but her remarks indicate that she is fully committed to doing so.
Boston Globe
3 days ago
- Boston Globe
My husband was bitten by a rat. Here's why it made me grateful.
We both stared for a moment and then scampered home to tend his wounds. Advertisement Until recently, my husband and I lived in Brighton, where the rats are dumpster denizens with mangy fur, scars, and all the desperate energy of creatures that live on trash and the remnants of student pizza parties. The first time I saw a Roslindale rat, I did a double take: shiny fur, clean noses, little white paws. They're almost cute. They're basically pets, fed from the shaken-off bird seed beneath the feeders in almost every yard. I didn't fear them, not like I did the ones that swarmed on trash day in Cleveland Circle. Clearly, I should have. One of them bit my husband. Just like the woman in the Fenway, we went to the hospital. The staff were quick and professional, if trying their best not to show their horror or bemusement. Me too. They were also surprised to learn where we lived: on a residential block in Roslindale, with no dumpsters, only a mile from the hospital in which we sat. 'Here?' one of them said. Yes, here. Advertisement My husband was given the largest penicillin pills I've ever seen, which he took multiple times a day for the next few days to prevent In between visits from hospital personnel, my husband filed a 'Rodent Activity' report in the Boston 311 app on his phone while I asked permission to tell friends and family. Guess where we are? Guess why? Within an hour and a half, we were back home, my husband's ankle was bandaged, and his prescription was waiting at the pharmacy. The next morning, two city employees, both of them something like rat catchers, called to get the full story and detailed location, and to let my husband know they were coming by our neighborhood that day. One of them explained through a thick Boston accent that his crew sometimes got bitten by rats whose nests were being cleaned out, but that an unprovoked bite was 'supah weahd,' which it was. Advertisement But maybe not? Maybe not anymore? Everything about that night was supah weahd, but it made me grateful. Thank God for Boston, where the rats bite, but there's good health care. Thank God for Boston, where the 311 alerts are monitored and not one, but two city officials promptly took action. Actually, three city officials: A week later, my husband got a call from someone in the public health department to see if he was Rat Bite Feverish. He wasn't. He's fine. For that matter, thank God for Massachusetts, which runs the Health Connector through which I buy our health insurance. For years, my husband and I have been adjunct instructors, unbenefited for the benefit of the university's bottom line. So it is far from a perfect world. The rats are biting, unprovoked. But I consider myself lucky to live in a place where public services are still for the benefit of the public. And what became of my husband's adversary? After the hospital, we drove by the scene of the crime. It was maybe midnight. The rat, formerly lying motionless on its side, was gone.
