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INSPIRATION FOR LIFE

JUNE/JULY 2021

MICHELLE WILLIAMS

Her 5 Ways to Beat Depression and Open the Door to Joy

Feel Less Stressed and More Blessed TAKE OUR POSITIVITY CHALLENGE p.16 NEW FEATURE!

Greetings From Small-Town America p.36 PLUS INSPIRATION FROM

Max Lucado Savannah Guthrie Katie Brown

EDITOR’S NOTE

EDWARD GRINNAN Editor-in-Chief

GUIDEPOSTS

Notice anything different about your magazine? I’m kidding. Of course you do. You’re seeing many of the exciting changes I’ve been telling you about for the past few issues. Start with the better paper and cover stock. That makes your magazine more durable. (I know you like to carry it with you and share.) Our new typeface makes it easier to read. The beautiful new design makes GUIDEPOSTS more vibrant and inviting than ever. And the extra pages, so that each issue is at least 100 pages? More great stories to lift your spirits. I’m eager for you to explore our new Inspired Living section, starting on page 16, which has many features you’ve been asking for. There’s a Q&A with pastor and author píǉɱfƬĊíđŪɛǄĘɥŔŔɱĉĘɱƤíŔőĽşıɱƤŪɱİíĽƤĸɱŔĘíđĘƐƘɱŝŪƐĘɲİƐĘɘ ƏƬĘşƤŔǊɱşŪǄɁɱÝŪƬɥŔŔɱǞɱşđɱĊŪŔƬŝşƘɱŪşɱİíĽƤĸɂɱ«ĊƐĽƍƤƬƐĘɂɱƍƐíǊĘƐɱ and everyday blessings by Ty’Ann Brown, Rick Hamlin, ŪĉɱLŪƘƤĘƤŔĘƐɱíşđɱdíƤĽĘɱ ƐŪǄşɂɱƍŔƬƘɱíɱƍƐŪǞɱŔĘɱŪİɱƤĸĽƘɱĽƘƘƬĘɥƘɱ Positive Thinker, the Today show’s Savannah Guthrie. Want to travel somewhere soulful? Check out our Destination Inspiration. Best of all, take our Positivity Challenge to see how you can maintain a positive attitude through life’s ups and downs and enhance your spiritual well-being. Back to the cover. See something new? I’ll wait a minute. Yes, we have changed our tagline from “True Stories of Hope and Inspiration” to “Inspiration for Life.” Why make this change? Because you tell us that the stories in GUIDEPOSTS magazine help inspire you to live your life with greater faith, optimism and gratitude. So instead of just describĽşıɲǄĸíƤɱĽƘɱĽşɱƤĸĘɱŝíıíǔĽşĘɂɱǄĘɱǄíşƤĘđɱƤŪɱƘíǊɱǄĸíƤɱƤĸĘɱ magazine and the whole Guideposts organization want to provide for you: inspiration for life. We’ll still feature the true personal stories of hope and inspiration that are the heart and soul of Guideposts. In fact, we hope to publish more, both in print and online and ultimately through other forms of media such as podcasts. Stay tuned. Enjoy the issue, and please let us know what you think.

• June/July 2021

Check out Edward’s blog at guideposts.org/edblog

KATYE MARTENS BRIER

Inspiration for Life

Guideposts 100 Reserve Road Suite E200 Danbury, CT 06810 Subscribers If the Post Office alerts us that your magazine is undeliverable, we have no further obligation unless we receive a corrected address within one year of the postal notification.

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President & CEO John Temple Editor-in-Chief & Vice President Edward Grinnan Vice President, Content Ansley Roan Guideposts Lead Editor Amy Wong Creative Director Kayo Der Sarkissian Editorial Team Olivia Abel, Meg Belviso, Cristina Calle, Sabra Ciancanelli, Caroline Cilento, Sabrina Diaz, Susan Downs, Kimberly Elkins, Celia M. Gibbons, Lisa Guernsey, Jim Hinch, Colleen Hughes, Kaylin Kaupish, Ashley Lateef, Brett Leveridge, Carolyn Mandarano, Celeste McCauley, Evan Miller, Carolina Pichardo, Lori Pozzouli, Hilary Ribons, Jaylin Rumph, Mary Ryan, Elena Tafone, Janet Talbert, Megan Troise, Daisy T. Urgiles, Jon Woodhams Art & Photo Team Kevin Eans, Beth Meyer, Andrew Nahem, Kathi Rota, Stephen Wilder Contributing Editors Rick Hamlin, Pat Joyce, Roberta Messner, Ginger Rue, Elizabeth Sherrill, Doug Snyder, Diane Stark, Stephanie Thompson, Marion Bond West Senior Vice Presidents Carl Hixson, Jimmy Lee, Kelly Mangold, Rocco Martino, David Teitler Vice Presidents James Asselmeyer, Ty’Ann Brown, Julian Lama, William McGlynn, Chris Mellor Advertising Charles Carroll, Nancy Forman, Celeste Hayes

SEND US YOUR STORY If you’ve got a story like one you read here, send a manuscript to submissions@ guideposts.org. Connect with us at facebook.com/ guideposts. ABOUT US GUIDEPOSTS is a nonprofit organization that promotes faith, hope and prayer in people’s lives. Whether through our apps, communities, websites or publications, we inspire our audiences, bring them together, comfort, uplift, entertain and guide them. To learn more, visit guideposts.org/about or guideposts foundation.org. TO MAKE A DONATION Visit us at guideposts .org/donate.

For ad inquiries, go to guideposts.org/media. Founded by Ruth Stafford Peale and Norman Vincent Peale in 1945

GUIDEPOSTS® Invites but cannot be responsible for unsolicited manuscripts. We cannot be responsible for returning manuscripts. E-mail to submissions@guideposts.org. GUIDEPOSTS® (ISSN 2168–1503) (USPS 231-460) is published bimonthly by Guideposts, 100 Reserve Road, Suite E200, Danbury, CT 06810. Periodical postage paid at Danbury, CT, and additional mailing offices. Canadian mailed under Publications Mail Agreement Number 40010140, Canadian GST #893989236. Copyright © 2021 by Guideposts, all rights reserved. Volume 76, No. 4. Issue date: June/July 2021. Printed in U.S.A. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Guideposts, P.O. Box 5814, Harlan, IA 51593-1314. CANADA POST: Send address changes to Guideposts, P.O. Box 1051, Fort Erie, ON L2A 6C7. GUIDEPOSTS IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK.

G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

INSPIRATION FOR LIFE

guideposts.org June/July 2021 Volume 76, Issue 4

Features

CAREGIVERS

54 The Rewards of Caregiving Three family caregivers share their most important spiritual takeaways.

By KIMBERLY ELKINS, Editor PHOTO ESSAY

60 Fairy Gardens

One woman’s whimsical way to celebrate her neighborhood.

By EVAN MILLER, Editor CLOSE CALLS

64 Speak My Word!

It was a voice that rose above the roar of the tornado.

By JEANIE JACOBSON Bellevue, Nebraska OVERCOMING ADDICTION

COVER STORY

The Most Powerful Words How this Grammy Award–winning singer copes with depression and opens the door to joy. By MICHELLE WILLIAMS Atlanta, Georgia

A mother’s 12-step recovery, a daughter’s lesson.

By CAROL WEIS Easthampton, Massachusetts SPIRITUAL NOTEBOOK

72 Walking Velma

Learning to say no when you always say yes.

By LINDA NEUKRUG Walnut Creek, California PERSONAL BEST

48 To the Stars

ɱ ɱƘƍíĊĘɱƘĸƬƤƤŔĘɱíƘƤƐŪşíƬƤɱǞɱşĽƘĸĘđɱ the mission her war hero dad started. By WENDY LAWRENCE Seattle, Washington

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

STORY OF A SONG

75 A Spoonful of Sugar

The surprising inspiration behind this Mary Poppins hit.

By KIMBERLY ELKINS Editor

COVER: PHOTOGRAPHED FOR GUIDEPOSTS BY MICHAEL A. SCHWARZ

68 Not Like Me

GUIDEPOSTS BOOKS

76 All in Good Time

Meet Ruth Logan Herne, an author of Guideposts’ new mystery series.

By ELENA TAFONE, Editor BUILDING STRONGER FAMILIES

FROM TOP: COURTESY WENDY LAWRENCE, COURTESY CAROL WEIS, ILLUSTRATION BY JACKIE BESTEMAN, COURTESY JANET PAIGE SMITH

80 My Old School

A Georgia Bulldog herself, she was determined to see her son graduate, pandemic or no pandemic.

By JANET PAIGE SMITH Sparta, Georgia MAKING MARRIAGE WORK

82 The Pastor’s Wife

It was the life she’d prayed for, right?

By BRIANNA BELL Guelph, Ontario, Canada

OVERCOMING GRIEF

88 Our Trip to Branson

Was it the last time these two best friends would be together?

By KRISTY DEWBERRY Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

YOUR FAVORITES 2 8 10 12 14 41 79 93 95 98

Editor’s Note More Inspiration at Guideposts.org The Up Side Someone Cares Spirit Lifting Mysterious Ways Messages From Above What Prayer Can Do Family Room Continued

Turn for more stories

Inspired Living 24 The Art of the Apology

Feel good about saying you’re sorry.

By ALINA LARSON

26 Smile!

Sharing happiness.

VERSES TO LIVE BY

27 Spring and Summer Scripture for the seasons.

By RICK HAMLIN DESTINATION INSPIRATION

28 St. Benedict’s

Painted Church

You’ve got to see this amazing Hawaiian sanctuary!

By KAYLIN KAUPISH EVERYDAY GREATNESS

30 Allen Zhou

POSITIVE THINKER

Savannah Guthrie

Meet a college student who’s bringing generations together.

Her keys to staying upbeat. By CELESTE MCCAULEY

By EVAN MILLER PRAYER POWER

32 Embracing Change

INSPIRED LIVING SECTION

The four prayers you need most in uncertain times.

16 Take Our

Positivity Challenge!

By BOB HOSTETLER

Here are 21 ways to feel less stressed and more blessed.

EVERYDAY BLESSINGS

3 QUESTIONS

20 Q&A: Max Lucado

His take on the challenges ahead.

KEEPING THE FAITH

22 As Bold as Fireworks The beauty of believing.

By TY’ANN BROWN

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

34 Childlike Wonder

ɱ ¸ĸĘɱŔĽİĘƘƤǊŔĘɱĘǉƍĘƐƤɱŔĘíƐşƘɱƤŪɱǞɱşđɱ God’s hand in the everyday. By KATIE BROWN GREETINGS FROM SMALL-TOWN AMERICA

36 Casey, Illinois

This little town is home to big things.

By JIM BOLIN

MELANIE DUNEA

By SABRA CIANCANELLI

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More Inspiration at

Guideposts.org Get Boost your spiritual well-

being! Visit guideposts.org for web-exclusive stories, life advice, prayer tips, recipes and more.

Watch Michelle Williams (page

42) shares her strategies for coping with depression and anxiety. Learn how prayer uplifts the Grammy ǄĽşşĘƐɱíşđɱǄĸíƤɱƘĸĘɱđŪĘƘɱƤŪɱǞɱşđɱ joy on her hardest days. Check out our exclusive video at guideposts .org/michellewilliams.

Explore Celebrate small-town

America with our virtual tour of Casey, Illinois. Jim Bolin (page 36) shows you the sights, including the world’s largest rocking chair, mailbox and wind chime! Visit guideposts.org/caseyillinois.

Learn Nationally acclaimed life-

style expert Katie Brown (page 34) has some tips for you! Try this easy DIY decor project: Sea glass– inspired tableware brings a beachy vibe, no matter where you live. Go to guideposts.org/summerdiy.

Connect Join the growing

Guideposts online community. Facebook @Guideposts Instagram @Guideposts Magazine 8

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

Shop Fascinated by stories of

near-death experiences? Read our Witnessing Heaven book series for true accounts of everyday people who took a miraculous journey to heaven and back. Visit shop guideposts.org.

Subscribe Get even more inspiring GUIDEPOSTS stories sent right to your in-box! Subscribe to our free weekly newsletters at guideposts .org/newsletter. Pray Did you know you can

pray with us? The OurPrayer community is a network connecting people praying for and uplifting one another. Submit your prayer requests at guideposts.org/prayerrequest and follow OurPrayer on Facebook @OurPrayer.

Share We want to hear from you!

Tell us your true story of hope and inspiration for a chance to see it published in GUIDEPOSTS, one of our sister magazines or on our website. Submit your story at guideposts .org/tell-us-your-story.

Reach Out We prize your loyalty.

Customer Service is here to answer your questions or comments as well as help you manage your account and subscriptions. Contact us at guideposts.org/ecares.

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the up side

QUOTES FROM TODAY’S POSITIVE THINKERS

“No matter what I see, I choose faith. No matter what I feel, I choose faith.” CRAIG GROESCHEL, pastor and author of Winning the War in Your Mind

“We’re only as good as our ability to connect with each other. Everything else is irrelevant.” singer ALICIA KEYS

“God doesn’t just create. He also re-creates.” LEVI LUSKO, pastor and author

“I know the secret of life: If you want to have loving feelings, do loving things.”

actor TED DANSON, 73, on his 25-year marriage to actor Mary Steenburgen

No amount of guilt can solve the past, and no amount of anxiety can change the future.” posted on Instagram by GABRIELLE BERNSTEIN, author and motivational speaker

SEND AN UPLIFTING QUOTE from a newsmaker or yourself to upside@guideposts.org

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

MIKE WINDLE/GETTY IMAGES

If you keep being grateful for your life, your heart gets bigger. The bigger your heart, the more you get to love.”

ANNE LAMOTT, author of Dusk Night Dawn: On Revival and Courage

“Hope is the oxygen your soul breathes.” BONNIE GRAY, author and podcaster

Gratitude is grace made manifest.” EDWARD GRINNAN, Editor-in-Chief of GUIDEPOSTS

“If there was a lesson in this year—and there must be, right?—it is that the simplest pleasures in life are truly the ones that mean the most…. Remembering those things—letting them guide my days—has helped shape my year.” KRISTY WOODSON HARVEY, author, on lessons learned during the pandemic

“Never measure God’s unlimited power by your limited expectations.” from Finding Jesus in Everyday Moments, by ANNE CETAS

“Hurt people hurt people. Healed people heal people. Enlightened people enlighten people.” RUTHIE LINDSEY, podcast host and author of There I Am: The Journey From Hopelessness to Healing

“Who am I supposed to be in this season? How do I honor God in whatever endeavor it

is that I’m doing? And how am I supposed to be used?”

ANDRA DAY, singer and Golden Globe–winning actor, on the life questions she’s trying to answer right now

“Sometimes the good story and the hard story can be the same story.” KATHERINE and JAY WOLF, authors of Hope Heals, about their relationship and Katherine’s recovery from a stroke at age 26

“Perhaps the most powerful thing you do in the world is the way you give others love freely, regardless of whether you think they’ve earned it or will even appreciate it.” entrepreneur EMILY LEY, from her book Growing Boldly: Dare to Build a Life You Love

“My sickness helped me recognize my strength.” actor SELMA BLAIR on living with multiple sclerosis

“You cannot change what you do not take responsibility for.” ERWIN RAPHAEL MCMANUS, lead pastor of Mosaic church in Los Angeles, California G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

someone cares PASS IT ON

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

tions on sticky notes and left them on mirrors in store dressing rooms and public bathrooms. We met up for dinner afterward and shared our adventures in kindness. It was a birthday I’ll never forget. Helping others turned out to be the best way to heal my own heartache. SHANNON LONG Bryan, Texas

SEEDS OF HAPPINESS ast spring, while my area was under Covid lockdown, I planted ƘƬşǡɱŪǄĘƐɱƘĘĘđƘɱĽşɱĘŝƍƤǊɱ egg crates. I slit cherry tomatoes and planted those in potting soil. Just days later, I awoke to ǞɱşđɱƤĸíƤɱŝǊɱ seedlings had come up. I couldn’t use them all. I offered my extra plants to friends and neighbors, hoping to spread a little happiness during íɱđĽİǞɱĊƬŔƤɱƤĽŝĘɁɱ pǊɱđŪĊƤŪƐɱƍŔíşƤĘđɱƤĸĘɱƘƬşǡɱŪǄĘƐƘɱ QɱıíǃĘɱĸĽŝɱŪƬƤƘĽđĘɱĸĽƘɱŪİǞɱĊĘɂɱƘŪɱĸĽƘɱ patients could enjoy them on their way in. A friend’s cat passed away; ƤĸĘɱƘƬşǡɱŪǄĘƐƘɱĉƐŪƬıĸƤɱŝǊɱİƐĽĘşđɱ

ILLUSTRATIONS BY COCO MASUDA

ADVENTURES IN KINDNESS y mom always made birthdays special. She died of cancer when I was 32. After that, I dreaded my birthday because she wasn’t here to celebrate with me. As I approached 40, I decided that I wanted to have joyful birthdays again. A friend told me that she’d read about someone who spent their birthday doing random acts of kindness. My mom would have loved that. Why not give it a try? I thought. I organized a scavenger ĸƬşƤɁɲQşɘ stead of ǞɱşđĽşıɱ things on a list, my friends and I performed íĊƤƘɱŪİɲőĽşđɘ ness. We split into two teams and had two hours to complete as many kind deeds as possible. We used chalk to write encouraging messages on the sidewalk. We hid dollar bills in the toy section at the dollar store and taped money to vending machines and washers at the laundromat. We left a package of diapers on the porch for some new ƍíƐĘşƤƘɱǄĘɱőşĘǄɁɱ×ĘɱǄƐŪƤĘɱíİǞɱƐŝíɘ

some comfort as she mourned. My parents took several tomato plants. Watching the green tomatoes ripen and eating the tasty red ones brought them a lot of pleasure. ×ĸĘşɱƤĸĘɱƘƬşǡɱŪǄĘƐƘɱƘƤíƐƤĘđɱƤŪɱ bow their heads, I put them on a table outside to feed the birds. But not before gathering some seeds to plant and share again this year. LAURIE THURNECK Crozet, Virginia

the idea to build a water station in our front yard for the neighborhood dogs to use. Andrew set out a low table with a tub of water, some dog treats, even toys. We made a sign inviting passersby and their furry friends to drop by our puppy pit stop anytime they needed. We’ve had so much fun watching families and their pets enjoy our little break area. Folks have come by to thank us. Some have left notes of appreciation. Andrew even found a new job through one of our regular visitors. It’s been a great way to feel more connected to our neighbors— human and canine. MARY BETH EDE Tulsa, Oklahoma

A PUPPY PIT STOP ne spring day, my boyfriend, Andrew, and I were walking our dog, Bronson, through our neighborhood. It was warm, and I could tell Bronson was getting thirsty. We had to cut our walk short to go home and get him a drink. That’s when Andrew and I got

Have your own story of kindness and caring to tell? E-mail us at sc@guideposts.org. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

GUIDEPOSTS

• J u n e/ J u l y 2 0 2 1

Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.

ANNA BERKUT/GETTY IMAGES

—PSALM 37:4 (NIV)

A recent writing exercise asked me to list everything I loved. Here are some items on that list: Chocolate, of course. The smell of cut grass. The relaxed, quiet pleasure of a job well done. Laughter around the dinner table at the end of a meal. Red barns at summer twilight. My cat’s head butt against my shin. My husband’s greeting as I walk through the door. I delight in these things. Do I delight, in the same way, in God? Where is God on that list? The way my mom folds me up in her arms when she hugs me. My dad’s patience. The sparkly way the air feels before a thunderstorm. Being all alone in a dark, cool church. I look at the list again. God is there, suffusing every single thing on that list with grace and holiness and joy. I delight in him by delighting in them. This perfect world! My perfect life! I am blessed to be alive. Indeed, God gives me the desires of my heart. God, no matter what happens today, my life is good. You make it so. —AMY EDDINGS

GUIDEPOSTS

Take Our

Positivity By SABRA CIANCANELLI, Editor

Who doesn’t want to be more optimistic? More energetic? Happier? That’s why we’ve put together 21 positivity boosters for you. Try one or more of these each day. Notice some of these activities really make a difference to your spiritual wellbeing? Great! Do them more regularly. You’re on your way to becoming your most positive self! • June/July 2021

GETTY IMAGES

INSPIRED LIVING 16

Want to feel less stressed and more blessed?

Challenge! 1 Do a happy dance.

Move to music. Dancing sparks joy.

2 Change up your morning routine. Add

a devotional practice.

3 Take a deep breath.

Learn a stress-relieving breathing exercise, like ǞɱǃĘɘǞɱşıĘƐɱĉƐĘíƤĸĽşıɁɱ Make a fist. As you inhale through your nose, slowly uncurl

MORE POSITIVITY ONLINE Check out the interactive version of this challenge at guideposts.org/ positivitychallenge G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

INSPIRED LIVING

5 Take a growth walk.

Go outside and notice everything that ĽƘɱıƐŪǄĽşıɁɱQşĊŔƬđĽşıɱǊŪƬɁɱ£ĘǡɱĘĊƤɱŪşɱ how you are becoming your best self.

your thumb and ĽşđĘǉɱǞɱşıĘƐɁɱ ƘɱǊŪƬɱ exhale through your mouth, slowly open your middle, ring and ƍĽşőǊɱǞɱşıĘƐƘɁɱ×ĸĘşɱ you exhale for longer than you inhale, your nervous system shifts into a state in which your whole body feels more peaceful. 4 Surround yourself with love. Go through

your photos, and ǞɱşđɱŪşĘɱƤĸíƤɱŝíőĘƘɱ you smile. Put it on your fridge, your mirror or by your bed. 18

GUIDEPOSTS

6 Start your day

with a positive quote or affirmation. 7 Send a gratitude e-mail or letter to

someone who has ĽşǡɱƬĘşĊĘđɱǊŪƬƐɱŔĽİĘɁɱ

8 Give your diet a makeover. Pick

one not-so-great eating habit, and replace it with a healthier option. 9 Get creative.

Doodle, draw or sculpt with children’s modeling clay. Don’t

• June/July 2021

worry about what your artwork looks like or how good it is. Just have fun.

10 Watch the sunrise or sunset. Put it in your calendar so you don’t forget.

11 Pray for someone else. Keep a list of

loved ones and others in your community to pray for.

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: GETTY IMAGES (2), KEVIN EANS

12 Organize a shelf, drawer or other small

space. Clearing clutter makes room for fresh energy. Set a timer for 15 minutes and go to it! 13 Focus on a jigsaw puzzle, crossword or

word search.

14 Watch a favorite

feel-good movie.

16 Be gentle to yourself.

Nurture your soft side. Invest in comfy sheets or awesome socks. Take a bath with mood-lifting scented oils or salts (peppermint, cinnamon, lemon, orange).

15 Donate something

you are no longer using.

17 Be in the moment.

Sit and be still. Take note of how you feel. Let go of your worries about today and tomorrow. Picture each worry as a leaf or paper boat drifting away down a stream.

18 Take up a new hobby, or rediscover

one you used to love. 19 Forgive a wrongdoing. Don’t

let bitterness drag you

down. Forgiveness reduces anxiety and gives you a greater sense of hope. 20 Spread kindness.

Lifting someone’s spirits lifts you up too. 21 End your day with gratitude. Think of

three blessings that grace your life now. Better yet, write them down so you can look back at them whenever you need a boost. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

3 QUESTIONS

Max Lucado PASTOR & BEST-SELLING AUTHOR

What do you make of the unprecedented times we are living in?

This is a time of upheaval unlike any I have ever seen, unlike anything the 20

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

world has ever seen. It’s global upheaval. It’s physical: Covid-19 can attack your body. It’s emotional: You’re isolated from the people you ŔŪǃĘɁɱQƤɥƘɱǞɱşíşĊĽíŔɃɱ«ŪɱŝíşǊɱƍĘŪƍŔĘɱ

ROBERT SEALE

We had a chat with pastor and best-selling author Max Lucado about what we’ve been facing in the past year, from the coronavirus pandemic to global protests against racism. Among his latest projects is the upcoming book Begin Again: Your Hope and Renewal Start Today, which is full of biblical help. And as Max proved in our talk, he is full of practical help for the challenges of our times.

INSPIRED LIVING

are facing severe setbacks. In seasons of immense change, what’s important is to look for what has not changed. For the person of faith, that means the existence of God, the sovereignty of God, the plan of God. Turn to those and believe. We serve an unchanging God. Early in my ministry, I served in Brazil. I came to understand there are certain things that are transcultural. They supersede culture. The need to know who God is. The promise of forgiveness. The promise of eternal life. No matter where you are, no matter what language you speak, those are human longings.

What do you think is one of our greatest spiritual challenges?

We elevate ourselves. We position ourselves higher than we position others. That is such a struggle. I hear that in the conversations about race, equality and acceptance. There is a strain of superiority. We have had a wake-up call, after some 400 years of positioning one race over another. There’s a question that helps me in a conversation. I ask myself, “What is it like to be you?” What is it like to be a Black male today? What is it like to be a female in a world marked ĉǊɱŝĘşɱĽşɱıƐíǊɱǡɱíşşĘŔɱƘƬĽƤƘɈɣ

To become a better listener, don’t allow yourself to be formulating a response. A couple with marriage issues was talking with me recently, and the husband said, “I act like I’m listening, but most of the time I’m just reloading.” Let’s listen. Hear the whole story. Really respect what it’s like to be you. QɱǞɱşđɱƍĘŪƍŔĘɱíƐĘɱƘŪɱĸíƍƍǊɱƤŪɱƤíŔőɱ about their situation. Earlier today, I was on a Zoom call and a new person was on it. “Tell us your story,” I said. I love that phrase. He did for four or ǞɱǃĘɱŝĽşƬƤĘƘɁɱQɱđĽđşɥƤɱƤƐǊɱƤŪɱđĽƐĘĊƤɱĽƤɁɱ People will share who they really are.

Is there a prayer you find yourself saying these days?

Lord, I ask, what are you doing? By permitting this pandemic, by showing us these racial issues? One morning I prayed, and I heard the word calling. I understood that to mean that God is calling people back to himself. Calling us to walk more closely with him. Calling to those who don’t know him, getting their attention. We are being reminded of how frail we are. QɱƤƬƐşɱƤŪɱƤĸĘɱƘƤŪƐǊɱíĉŪƬƤɱbĘƘƬƘɲǄíŔőɘ ing on the water. The whole idea of it. Coming to his disciples in the middle of the storm. He could have kept that storm from ever coming, but he let it. He let the storm come, then showed up. Jesus will show up in the midst of this storm. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

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Keeping the Faith

As Bold as Fireworks

uly 4. It’s the most American of holidays and a rite of summer for so many of us. Barbecues, ĊíƐşĽǃíŔƘɱíşđɛŪİɱĊŪƬƐƘĘɛǞɱƐĘǄŪƐőƘɁɱ I grew up in New York City, in a building that overlooked the East River. Every year my family and I would go to the rooftop so that we could get as close as possible to those famous Macy’s Fireworks. They seemed so beautiful, so magical—almost heaven-sent. I would gaze at the sky in awe. As an adult, I wasn’t that ĽŝƍƐĘƘƘĘđɱĉǊɱǞɱƐĘǄŪƐőƘɱ anymore. But one year, I was visiting Mom on July 4 and she called me to the window. Watching the sky light up and hearing her oohs and aahs, I got PRAY WITH TY’ANN Join Ty’Ann on Facebook Live to pray together! Go to facebook .com/ourprayer the first Wednesday of every month at noon ET.

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• June/July 2021

caught up in the excitement too. That’s when I started thinking íĉŪƬƤɱǄĸíƤɱǞɱƐĘǄŪƐőƘɱĊŪƬŔđɱƤĘíĊĸɱƬƘɱ about faith. Sure, it would be great if we all maintained faith as big and íƘɱĉŪŔđɱíƘɱƤĸŪƘĘɱǞɱƐĘǄŪƐőƘɱđĽƘƍŔíǊƘɱ all the time. But that doesn’t always happen. We have doubts; we turn away from God at times. ƬƤɱǞɱƐĘǄŪƐőƘɱĊíşɱƐĘŝĽşđɱ us to pause—and look upward. To look toward God—and toward the beauty he can bring to our lives—if only we pay attention. As Matthew 5:16 says, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” I hope you catch íɱĉĘíƬƤĽİƬŔɲǞɱƐĘɘ works display this Fourth of July. More important, I hope you let your life, and your faith, sparkle all summer and all year long.

TODD PLITT

By TY’ANN BROWN, Vice President, Ministries

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The Art of the Apology

Feel good about saying you’re sorry I’m sorry. Two little words that play a big part in our daily vocabulary. You might apologize while squeezĽşıɲƤĸƐŪƬıĸɱíɱĊƐŪǄđɱŪƐɱƬƘĽşıɱƤĸĘɱŔíƘƤɱ of the printer paper at work. We toss off these everyday “I’m sorry’s,” but true apologies are a different story. Even if you feel guilty for having hurt someone, you might have trouble ǞɱşđĽşıɱƤĸĘɱƐĽıĸƤɱǄíǊɱƤŪɱĘǉƍƐĘƘƘɱǊŪƬƐɱ remorse. How do you give a meaningful apology? How do you ask for one? If both parties are at fault, who should ƘíǊɱƘŪƐƐǊɱǞɱƐƘƤɈɱ×ĽƤĸɱƤĸĘƘĘɱƤĽƍƘɂɱǊŪƬɥŔŔɱ ǞɱşđɱƤĸíƤɱsorry doesn’t have to be the hardest word. Keep it real “For the person who needs an apology, it’s a validation of their feelings,” says 24

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• June/July 2021

Beverly Engel, author of The Power of Apology. “It’s very healing. If someone admits they did something wrong, it helps us not feel leery. We can let our guard down.” But the relationship will remain strained if the apology seems perfunctory. You have to be truly willing to apologize. Are you afraid that saying sorry will make you look weak? Actually, a sincere apology helps repair not only the relationship but also your reputation—you’re showing that you can be trusted to do what’s right. Avoid the nonapology apology: “I’m sorry you were offended by what I said.” It’s doublespeak. Sometimes it’s better to leave a hurt in the past. If apologizing means reaching out to someone who will

BETZ WHITE, BETZWHITE.COM

By ALINA LARSON, Contributing Editor

cause you harm or be emotionally damaged by being reminded of your actions, forgive yourself and move on. The three R’s A meaningful apology comes down to what Engel calls the three R’s—regret, responsibility and remedy. Communicate your regret. Show the other person you recognize your error and empathize with her pain. Try to see the situation from her point of view. A statement such as “I know I hurt your feelings, and I feel awful about it” can go a long way. Take complete responsibility. Don’t ŝíőĘɱĘǉĊƬƘĘƘɱŪƐɱĉŔíŝĘɱƤĸĘɱǃĽĊƤĽŝɁɱQİɱ ǊŪƬɱİĘĘŔɱƤĸĘɱşĘĘđɱƤŪɱĘǉƍŔíĽşɱǊŪƬƐɱíĊɘ tions, keep it brief and follow it with a sincere mea culpa, such as “My behavior was unacceptable.” Show that you’re working to remedy the situation. Offer to make up İŪƐɱƤĸĘɱĸíƐŝɱǊŪƬɱĊíƬƘĘđɁɱ}ƐɱĘǉƍŔíĽşɱ the steps you’re taking to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

DAILY DO

Asking for it If you’re the offended party, describe what’s changed in the relationship

íşđɱĸŪǄɱǊŪƬɱİĘĘŔɱíĉŪƬƤɱĽƤɁɱDŪƐɱĘǉíŝɘ ple, you could say, “There’s this rift between you and me, and I want us to be friends again. But I’ve been hurt, and I’d like an apology. I need you to acknowledge what you did.’’ Don’t demand. Emphasize that the relationship is important to you. Two-way street Say a misunderstanding turned into íɱşíƘƤǊɱĘǉĊĸíşıĘɁɱÝŪƬɱǄíşƤɱƤŪɱƐĘĊŪşɘ cile but feel the other person should íƍŪŔŪıĽǔĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɁɱɢQİɱǊŪƬɱƐĘĊŪışĽǔĘɱƤĸíƤɱ ǊŪƬɱƍŔíǊĘđɱíɱƐŪŔĘɂɱĘǉíŝĽşĘɱǄĸǊɱǊŪƬɱ İĘĘŔɱǊŪƬɱşĘĘđɱƤĸĘŝɱƤŪɱíƍŪŔŪıĽǔĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɁɱ It’s probably pride,” says Engel. Get over it. Try: “We had this disagreement, and I feel we’re both to blame. I want to apologize for my part.” You’re acknowledging the blunder and asking the other person to take responsibility as well. Most people will appreciate the initiative and step up, but there are no guarantees. That’s something to keep in mind anytime you offer an apology. Don’t ĘǉƍĘĊƤɱ ĽŝŝĘđĽíƤĘɱ İŪƐıĽǃĘşĘƘƘɁɱ QƤɱ might take the other person a while to process your words and their feelĽşıƘɱǞɱƐƘƤɁɱ«ƤĽŔŔɂɱđŪşɥƤɱǊŪƬɱİĘĘŔɱŔĽıĸƤĘƐɱ now that you’ve let go of your burden of guilt?

“Right before I go to bed, I take one last look at the kids sleeping. Whatever challenges the day might have brought, seeing them so peaceful brings me great comfort and joy.” —LAURIE SCHMIDT, Guideposts customer experience lead

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From our Guideposts community

Splash! This reminds me of how exciting it is to try new things! —Kate Fenner Home Again My son David Mark Smith Jr. returning from his second deployment in Iraq. —Janet Paige Smith Flying High My husband, Chuck, is always ready for an adventure. —Marilyn Turk

Pop! I love watching my grandson, Benaiah, chase bubbles! —Julie Lavender

Who makes you smile? Send us a photo at submissions@guideposts.org

CLOCKWISE FROM FAR LEFT: COURTESY JULIE LAVENDER, KATE FENNER, JANET PAIGE SMITH, MARILYN TURK

Smile!

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Verses to Live By

Spring and Summer By RICK HAMLIN, Contributing Editor

For now, the winter is past, the rain ĽƘɰŪǃĘƐɰíşđɰıŪşĘɀɰ¸ĸĘɰǠɰŪǄĘƐƘɰíƍƍĘíƐɰ on the earth, the time of singing has come. Song of Solomon 2:11–12 It’s easy to forget that much of the Bible was written to be sung. Sing this one to yourself. The whole creation ĽƘɱíɱƐĘǡɱĘĊƤĽŪşɱŪİɱƤĸĘɱ ƐĘíƤŪƐɁɱ ƘɱǊŪƬɱ ĊĘŔĘĉƐíƤĘɱƤĸĘɱĉƬđđĽşıɱǡɱŪǄĘƐƘɱíşđɱƤĸĘɱ passing of the rains, you are giving thanks to the One who made them. Not so good at singing? Remember what it says in another verse, the one about making a joyful noise to the Lord. It’s the joy that counts. ÝŪƬɰĸíǃĘɰǝɰǉĘđɰíŔŔɰƤĸĘɰ bounds of the earth; you made summer and winter.

KATIE HOGIN

Psalm 74:17

In my seventh-grade French class, there was a sign over the clock that read, TIME WILL PASS. WILL YOU? It took me years to get the joke—alas, I’ve always been slow at puns. But the message is a good one. Time does pass.

With spring and summer here in the northern hemisphere, the days are longer. The sun sets later and rises earlier. That’s the way God meant it to be. Things will change. Enjoy what’s here now.

fŪŪőɰíƤɰƤĸĘɰǝɰıɰƤƐĘĘɰíşđɰíŔŔɰƤĸĘɰƤƐĘĘƘɁɰíƘɰ ƘŪŪşɰíƘɰƤĸĘǊɰƘƍƐŪƬƤɰŔĘíǃĘƘɰǊŪƬɰĊíşɰƘĘĘɰ İŪƐɰǊŪƬƐƘĘŔǃĘƘɰíşđɰőşŪǄɰƤĸíƤɰƘƬŝŝĘƐɰ ĽƘɰíŔƐĘíđǊɰşĘíƐɀɰLuke 21:29–30 That yearning for a sign from God is not limited to biblical times. I’ve often found myself gazing heavenward, asking if I’m on the right track. Here we see Jesus, talking to the disciples, telling them where they ĊíşɱǞɱşđɱƘŪŝĘƤĸĽşıɱ even bigger than the changing of the ƘĘíƘŪşƘɛƤĸĘɲőĽşıɘ dom of God. Jesus turns to an everyday element of their ǄŪƐŔđɂɱíɱǞɱıɱƤƐĘĘɁɱ Take a look out your own window. God’s world is always communicating to us.

Read more from Rick at guideposts.org/rickhamlin

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DESIGN PICS INC/ALAMY

DESTINATION INSPIRATION

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• J u n e/ J u l y 2 0 2 1

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St. Benedict’s Painted Church, Hawaii

The exterior of St. Benedict Catholic Church, nestled on a hillside in South Kona, Hawaii, is plain and white. Open the doors, however, and you’ll see a wash of color that rivals the tropical surroundings. The ceiling is painted to look like the sky at dusk, complete with palm trees. St. Benedict’s, also known as the Painted Church, was erected in 1899 by Father John Velghe, a Belgian priest. He painted the frescoes as a way to teach Bible stories to illiterate parishioners. The most amazing thing? Father Velghe had no formal artistic training. St. Benedict continues to draw worshippers and visitors alike, who come to this vibrant church that is like no other. KAYLIN KAUPISH, Editor

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EVERYDAY GREATNESS

Allen Zhou Big & Mini, the social connection platform he cofounded, bridges the generational divide and reaches out to seniors By EVAN MILLER, Editor

Zhou, 20, teamed with his younger brother, Anthony, and University of Texas classmate Aditi Merchant to launch Big & Mini, an online, cross-generational social connection platform, last April during the Covid-19 pandemic. Allen and Aditi, both engineering students, met as freshŝĘşɱŪşɱƤĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱđíǊɱŪİɱ math class. “It seemed like a total chance encounter,” Allen recalls. But they quickly discovered a shared passion for creating products ƤĸíƤɱĉĘşĘǞɱƤɱŪƤĸĘƐƘɁ

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WHAT HE DOES In

mid-March last year, UT students went home to continue their studies online. Allen, at his parents’ house in Dallas, missed the camaraderie of campus. Every day, he read about people dying, families separated and the toll of loneliness, particularly on seniors. Clearly there was a need for meaningful connection that traditional social media wasn’t addressing. Allen thought of the video chats he had with his grandmother in China. “I’ve gained so much

• June/July 2021

in talking with her,” he says. Was there a way to replicate that experience for people across generational, cultural, geographical divides? He brainstormed with Anthony and Aditi. By early April, Big & Mini was born, a service that matches younger (Minis) and older (Bigs) participants who agree to weekly one-on-one video chats via the platform’s secure connection. By year’s end, more than 2,500 people

COURTESY BIG & MINI

WHO HE IS Allen

TEAM EFFORT Allen (center), Anthony and Aditi build bridges.

from every state and 27 countries were visiting with each other online.

facility. Like the conversations with his grandmother, those experiences stayed with him. “I want Big & Mini to bring people together,” Allen says. “To bridge across communities. That’s my biggest hope.” He hopes to encourage connection with people with disabilities. “The possibilities are endless.”

WHY HE DOES IT Allen

HOW HE DOES IT

credits his parents for instilling in him and his brother the importance of kindness and service to others. That inspired him to create numerous apps and products, such as a nutritional calculator, none of which caught on. It also led him to play piano and saxophone for residents at a senior care

When you sign up to be a Big or Mini, you’re asked about your interests, but unlike the algorithm for a dating site, the goal isn’t to link fellow gardeners, hikers or churchgoers. Instead, participants are matched by connections in areas that are less obvious. A Big & Mini volunteer

adds a human dimension to the match. The results, Allen says, have been overwhelmingly successful. “People ǞɱşđɱƤĸíƤɱđĘƘƍĽƤĘɱƤĸĘĽƐɱ differences they have more in common than they realize,” he says. Among the platform’s fans is Anita, a retiree from Pittsburgh. A onetime skeptic, she was surprised and delighted to discover the 20-yearold, premed UT student with whom she was matched is “bright, sensitive, sensible and very interesting. One of the lights of my life.” HOW YOU CAN DO IT

Becoming a Big or Mini is easy. Go to bigand mini.org, create an account and answer prompts to write about yourself and your interests and why you want to join. There are no age requirements for becoming a Big or a Mini. Participants agree to certain boundaries to ensure safety and are required to verify identities. Matches are usually made within a few days. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

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Prayer Power

Embracing Change ore than 170 years ago, French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr penned the saying “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” That no longer seems to apply. The 2021 version might be “The more things change, the more things change.” Change can be good or bad, fun or đĽİǞɱĊƬŔƤɂɱĉƬƤɱĽƤɱíŔǄíǊƘɱĊíƬƘĘƘɱƘƤƐĘƘƘɂɱ whether we realize it or not. And we have seen more change in recent months than many of us could ever have imagined. Even when we face a đĽİǞɱĊƬŔƤɱƤƐíşƘĽƤĽŪşɂɱ our response can make all the difference. If we can somehow embrace the new state of affairs, rather than resisting it, we become agents of change rather than its victims. For most of us, that will take some doing—and more than a little prayer. With that in mind, here are four prayers for embracing change.

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• June/July 2021

1 “The Lord is with you” Long ago, the young nation of Israel was facing transformation. An angel appeared to a backcountry nobody named Gideon, who was hiding İƐŪŝɱƤĸĘɲşíƤĽŪşɥƘɱŪƍƍƐĘƘƘŪƐƘɁɱ¸ĸĘɱ angel greeted him (perhaps without irony): “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior” (Judges 6:12, NIV). That phrase, turned slightly from greeting into prayer, reminds us that, even when we may not feel like mighty warriors, God is with us and for us during times of transition. 2 “With your help…” David faced daunting challenges: giants, a murderous king, a rebellious son and more. In a verse perhaps written after surviving Saul, David sang, “With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall” (Psalm 18:29, NIV). This prayer encour-

PATRICK GRAY

By BOB HOSTETLER, Contributing Editor

ages and strengthens us, a reminder that, whether we survive or thrive in change, God supplies all we need. 3 “Let it be” What did a teenage peasant named Mary say when she learned that God had chosen her to give birth to the long-awaited Messiah? Her response is a model prayer: “I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38, ESV). píƐǊɥƘɱĸƬŝĉŔĘɱíĊƏƬĽĘƘĊĘşĊĘɱǄíƘɱ an act of great faith amid dramatic shifts for her—and the world. Her words suggest a powerful prayer: “Let it be to me according to your will.” By treating change as a way to enlist ĽşɱEŪđɥƘɱǄĽƘĘɱíşđɱŔŪǃĽşıɱƍƬƐƍŪƘĘƘɂɱ we defuse apprehension and activate the miraculous. 4 “Make us bold” When Christians faced persecution đƬƐĽşıɱƤĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱĊĘşƤƬƐǊɂɱƤĸĘǊɱđĽđşɥƤɱ pray for things to stay the same. They said, “Give us, your servants, great boldness in preaching your word” (Acts 4:29, NLT). They prayed for courage to meet what lay ahead. ¸ĸíƤɥƘɱƤĸĘɱƘƍĽƐĽƤɱǄĘɱşĘĘđɱǄĸĘşɱ ǄĘɱİíĊĘɱĊĸíşıĘƘɅíɱƘƍĽƐĽƤɱƤĸíƤɱđŪĘƘşɥƤɱ shrink from change but instead embraces it, knowing that God can use us—and our shifting circumstances—come what may. Change is constant. Inevitable. But with prayer, God, who never changes, can give us the grace to change and lead us into a future of his choosing.

Answered Prayers Thank you, God. My daughter will be able to work remotely, far from where her job is located. She will now have a support network of family and friends close by. —BARBARA

My MRI is normal, and I do not have MS. I am so thankful to you, Jesus. —K Praise God for a great day at work, a great dinner, contact with my granddaughter and daughter, my lovely coding class! —MARI God heard my prayer for peace in my family. He gave me more than what I had prayed for! —ELIZABETH From our website visitors. Share your answered prayer at guideposts .org/answeredprayers

Get more prayer tips from Bob at guideposts.org/bobhostetler

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Everyday Blessings

Childlike Wonder rom the minute I woke up, I was behind schedule. Typical. I loaded my two young daughters into the car to run errands. Our town, Petoskey, was built along Lake Michigan. To get from one end of town to the other, you have water on one side of you at all times. Before we even left the driveway, the girls began to bicker. I let their chatter fade into white noise as I rushed around. Grocery store. Dog groomer. ŪƘƤɱŪİǞɱĊĘɁɱEíƘɱƘƤíɘ tion. Then something made me glance in the rearview. My younger daughter pointed toward the water and said, “Who poured that?” CRAFT WITH KATIE Watch her DIY summer decor video at guideposts.org /katiebrown

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

“Who poured that?” I repeated. I looked out at the expanse of blue, stretching as far as the eye could see. Everything seemed to slow as I took a breath and answered, “God did.” Now I have one daughter who is ĸĽıĸŔǊɱƘĊĽĘşƤĽǞɱĊɱíşđɱşĘĘđƘɱƤŪɱđƐĽŔŔɱ down to the proof of the matter. My other daughter is extremely visual and needs to see in order to understand. Yet there was no follow-up interrogation. Both carried on as if that was the answer they’d been seeking. I felt a wave of satisfaction and assurance and, yes, even pride. Somehow in all the messiness of everyday life, I had instilled in my girls enough faith to understand the simple response “God did.” I silently gave thanks for the reminder to slow down and take in the wonders all around me— from the Great Lake to my growing girls. For more on this story, see FAMILY ROOM

COURTESY KATIE BROWN

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INSPIRED LIVING

GREETINGS FROM SMALL-TOWN AMERICA

CASEY ILLINOIS asey, Illinois, is a small town— population: 2,700—but we’re home to some really big things. Literally. We’ve got 12 attractions that are the world’s largest, according to Guinness World Records. How did that come about? It goes back to my wife and daughter wanting to open a tea shop. I wanted to draw more people to Casey to support our local businesses. One night, the sound of wind chimes gave me the crazy idea to build some that were tall enough to break the world record. My family owns Bolin Enterprises Inc., a pipeline and tank maintenance company. Between jobs, our employees and I recycled old pipeline and built a 54-foottall wind chime in the middle of town. There’s a cross at the top. I’m a man of faith, and I wanted the wind chime to point people to God. The welder who worked on it used religious symbols— the ichthus and the Star of David—for the braces that stabilize it. My wife wanted to include a piece of Scripture, and we chose Romans 1:16.

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

We assembled the wind chime in November 2011. In order to qualify for a Guinness World Record, the object has to be able to perform its intended function, so the chimes had to, well, chime. It takes wind of six miles per hour or greater to move them, but they work. And that’s how tiny Casey, Illinois, set the record

MICHAEL D. TEDESCO

By JIM BOLIN, Casey, Illinois

for the World’s Largest Wind Chime. I put signs along I–70, advertising the record-setting chime. It wasn’t ŔŪşıɱĉĘİŪƐĘɱƤƐíİǞɱĊɱĽşɱƤŪǄşɱıŪƤɱĉƬƘĽĘƐɂɱ especially with out-of-state cars. I thought the wind chime would be a onetime project. Little did I know. In 2012, to publicize the town’s golf course, my crew and I built a 30-foottall, 6,659-pound golf tee. In 2013, Guinness representatives veriǞɱĘđɱĽƤɱíƘɱƤĸĘɱ×ŪƐŔđɥƘɱ Largest Golf Tee.

est Barbershop Pole and the World’s Largest Teeter Totter. You’ll also see about 20 items that don’t set a record but are still big. Really big. You and your family can pile into our giant hanging birdcage and take pictures in front of our enormous mousetrap or super-size pizza slicer. There’s a behemoth bookworm by our library and a huge toy glid-

COURTESY JIM BOLIN

BIG STUFF Jim (left) in front of the world’s largest rocking chair; the town’s supersize mailbox, knitting needles and wind chime. See more at bigthingssmalltown.com.

When you walk up Main Street, you’ll come across 12 record-setting objects. You can mail a letter from the World’s Largest Mailbox. It takes 10 men to rock the World’s Largest Rocking Chair! We’ve got the World’s Largest Wooden Shoes, the World’s Larg-

er plane at our airport. I used a lot of recycled materials, including telephone poles, to construct the attractions and kept putting Scripture on each. And I plan to build more. Come to Casey and see these big things for yourself! You’ll find that folks in our small town have big hearts too. We love visitors!

Join Jim on a virtual tour of Casey, Illinois, at guideposts.org/caseyillinois

POSITIVE THINKER

INSPIRED LIVING

Savannah Guthrie TODAY CO-ANCHOR. MOM. AUTHOR.

Best advice you’ve gotten A professor

friend told me, “Think big!” If you can’t admit what your destination is, how do you know what the first step is? Go-to place to pray I’m always in conversation with God. Lately it’s in the car on the way to work. God is good and ǞɱşđƘɱŝĘɱǄĸĘƐĘɱQɱíŝɁ Favorite Bible verse

Psalm 23 lives in me. And Zephaniah 3:17. It’s a moment in which you allow yourself to just soak in God’s love. Early riser or night owl? Early riser—

Q&A by Celeste McCauley. Find a longer version at guideposts.org/ savannahguthrie

MELANIE DUNEA

even without this job. I love morning. Everything seems possible.

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Mysterious Ways More Than Coincidence

t was strange to see my husband’s name in the paper, even if just the county news. “They even spelled it right!” I said. Adlai laughed. The article was about Adlai’s pickleball group. He’d taken up the game, a combination of ping-pong and tennis, in retirement. He and some friends had cleaned a poorly maintained tennis court at the park. I played too. Adlai and I both loved spending time outdoors. We ŪİƤĘşɱǄĘşƤɱĊíŝƍĽşıɱƤŪɱĊĘŔĘĉƐíƤĘɲ special occasions. In fact, our anniversary was coming up. I felt a pang of loss. I couldn’t help thinking about my journal. Adlai and I had married in our forties. We had a tradition going back to our newlywed days. For birthdays and anniversaries, instead of giving each other cards with preprinted messages, we wrote letters. For nine years, I’d written almost all of mine in a leather-bound journal. Four years ago, for our eighteenth anniversary, we had gone camping in the Adirondacks, at our favorite spot in Stillwater Reservoir—site #9. We’d gone for a hike, then returned to exchange our letters. But the campsite had been destroyed by a bear. Our cooler was empty, our tent shredded. Worst of all, my journal was missing.

We searched for hours and prayed, but it felt hopeless. Adlai and I still wrote each other on birthdays and anniversaries. But what I wouldn’t give to have back those nine years of letters! A week after the article on Adlai’s pickleball group ran, I came home İƐŪŝɱǄŪƐőɱƤŪɱǞɱşđɱíɱĊíƐɱQɱđĽđşɥƤɱ recognize in our driveway. Two strangers—a man and a woman— stood on the front porch with Adlai. “Mary Anne, you’re not going to believe this,” Adlai said, holding up a weather-beaten leather-bound book. My journal! The woman and her husband had found it weeks earlier in the underbrush at Stillwater Reservoir campsite #9, damaged but still legible. “I knew I had to return it,” the woman said. A newlywed, she’d been moved by the love letters. “I only ĸíđɱǊŪƬƐɱǞɱƐƘƤɱşíŝĘƘɁɱ¸ĸĘşɱQɱƘíǄɱƤĸíƤɱ article in the paper. I just knew it was the Adlai from the journal.” The woman had looked up Adlai’s address online and come over. I was so glad she did. I hugged the journal as I squeezed Adlai’s hand. Getting back those love letters was the best anniversary gift I could’ve imagined. MARY ANNE ADAMS West Sparta, New York

Want more miracles? Get Mysterious Ways magazine at guideposts.org/mw

COVER STORY

By MICHELLE WILLIAMS

Atlanta, Georgia

“

need help.” The three most powerful words a person can say. I should know. It took me a long time, but I finally said them. It most likely saved my life. I guess it started when I was about 13. Today I understand I was having symptoms. Back then they were just feelings that left me unsettled: a passing sense that nothing mattered or would ever really matter, anxiety that made me climb out of bed in the middle of the night and pace the ǡɱŪŪƐɱİŪƐɱşŪɱƐĘíƘŪşɂɱíɱőĽşđɱŪİɱƘƍĽƐĽƤƬíŔɱ numbness, feelings of not being loved even though I was. I soon learned that these were signs of depression. In a way, I thought I simply had to live with them. Even years later, when I was performing in Destiny’s Child, those feelings would rear up. I’d be like, “Oh, depression. You still here? I gotta go do a show. We’ll talk later.” I tried to ignore what was happening.

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

Or maybe I was just trying to accept it. Three years ago, I plunged into such a dark hole that I couldn’t get out. I could barely get off my sofa. Things came to a head when I didn’t show up for a promised event with my pastor and his wife. Didn’t call or text. Just didn’t show up. “This isn’t like you, Michelle,” they ƘíĽđɁɱQƤɱǄíƘɱƤĸĘşɱƤĸíƤɱQɱǞɱşíŔŔǊɱíŔŔŪǄĘđɱ myself to say those three powerful words. I need help. I called the therapist I’d been seeing—that much I had been doing—and she recommended a facility to go to. Arrangements got made. I drove myself there. Didn’t pack a bag, a toothbrush, a change of clothes. My hair was sticking up like a bad Halloween wig. I just drove. More than 16 million American adults a year develop a major depressive disorder the way I had. Generalized anxiety disorder affects nearly 7 million. Less than half seek or get

MICHAEL A. SCHWARZ

Depression affects 16 million Americans. And I’m one of them. Here’s what I’ve learned

The Most Powerful Words

COVER STORY

treatment. Less than half. Christians can be especially prone to this, as if we don’t want to let down the Great Physician or think that depression is a failure of faith. I ask you, though, would we do the same if we had cancer or some other disease? Depression is a disease like any other. It doesn’t care who you are or what your external life looks like. It gets inside you. I had a good career. My music grew out of my Christian faith. Things seemed to be going well for me, at least from the outside. But inside I was a mess. The act of checking into that treatment center was the first step of taking back the power. Here’s what I learned.

Own your truth. Don’t just talk

about—or around—what you’re going through; you have to own it. I had been transparent about my battle with depression, occasionally even opening up about it to interviewers. But there’s a big difference between transparency and acceptance. An alcoholic who admits to being one but still drinks isn’t really owning the disease. The same is true with depression. By owning your depression, you allow yourself to be helped. By the people around you and by God. Especially by God—because you can’t fool him. My first name is Tenitra—pronounced “Teh-nee-trah.” Michelle is my middle name. When I launched my career, they said, “Who do you Accept the help. It’s not enough to think little girls want to be like? A ask for help. You have to be willing Tenitra or a Michelle?” I went along to accept it. “What do you have to be with it—becoming Michelle in Desdepressed about?” I’d scold myself. tiny’s Child—while losing a part of “You’re doing well. People would love myself. I just buried it and didn’t say to have your career.” The externals anything. But it hurt. don’t matter. Only when my pastor Back in seventh or eighth grade, I’d reached out did I give in. Depression discovered the power of my voice, feeltells you that you don’t deserve to ing the presence of God smack-dab in feel better. That your feelings are the the middle of a song we were singing truth. It felt as if I had been dogpad- at Macedonia Baptist Church in Rockdling in the middle of the ocean. At the ford, Illinois, where I grew up. But I İíĊĽŔĽƤǊɂɱQɱǄíƘɱǞɱşíŔŔǊɱŪşɱƘĸŪƐĘɂɱíĉŔĘɱƤŪɱ never saw myself as an entertainer. catch my breath. I don’t regret the career I’ve had, but This nice nurse found out that I for too long I left half of myself hidden. hadn’t brought any clothes with me rŪƤɱŔŪşıɱíıŪɂɱQɱĸíđɱƤĸĘɱƤĸƐĽŔŔɱŪİɲĊŪŝɘ and went to Target, loading me up. I peting in The Masked Singer. Performwas so grateful, I couldn’t believe it. ing with a mask on, I was wild and free. Depression smothers gratitude. But I had labeled myself as used, tired and that spark of gratitude was the begin- done. Michelle was over. Not Tenitra. ning of acceptance and healing. I rediscovered the gift that God had 44

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

GRATEFUL “I start each day with prayer,” says Michelle, performing here in 2016.

PARAS GRIFFIN/GETTY IMAGES

Don’t compare. It’s

not just people in the music business who end up comparing themselves to others, checking record sales or social media followgiven me. Not what others said. What ers. Open Instagram or Facebook and I knew. The truth. It was freeing. you’ll see people exactly as they want to be seen. But does the picture tell the Feel your feelings, but don’t let whole story? Ask yourself who you are them fool you. I was so ashamed of measuring yourself to. My faith tells how I felt, and shame feeds depression me to compare myself to the life Jesus ƤĸĘɱǄíǊɱŪǉǊıĘşɱİĘĘđƘɱíɱǞɱƐĘɁɱ«ŪŝĘɱƍĘŪɘ led and try to live up to that. And know ple are predisposed to depression. No that he loves me despite my stumbles, need to judge it. Treat it like a disease. even more so because of them. QɱĸíǃĘɱíɱŝíışĘƤɱƤĸíƤɱƘíǊƘɂɱɢ«ŪŝĘɘ The comparisons we make through times when I open my mouth, my social media can be especially harmmom comes out.” My mother is a ful. It’s no wonder that so many kids, ĉƐĽıĸƤɱǄŪŝíşɁɱ«ĸĘɱĊŪƬŔđɱǄƐĽƤĘɱǊŪƬɱíşɱ attached to their phones 24/7, are eloquent 10-page letter in 10 minutes. finding themselves struggling with But, baby, you do not want to be on the anxiety and depression. receiving end of Mrs. Williams’s anger. Anger could pop out of me too, es- Cast your cares. My uncle used to pecially when I was hiding deeper ƤíőĘɱƬƘɱǞɱƘĸĽşıɱíŔŔɱƤĸĘɱƤĽŝĘɁɱQɱđĽđşɥƤɱŔĽőĘɱ emotions, such as my fears of rejec- it much. It was often freezing, and my tion or of somehow not measuring uncle used little hot dogs as bait that up. Feelings are not facts. They can really smelled. You had to cast your feel very real without being true. Like line into the water, which was hard for not feeling loved when you are loved. me. I’ve always been lanky with long Or not feeling good enough when you íƐŝƘɂɱíşđɱĊíƘƤĽşıɱíɱǞɱƘĸĽşıɱŔĽşĘɱĽƘɱşŪƤɱ are. Or going by some false label. Feel something a lanky preteen girl is goyour feelings, but then confront them. ĽşıɱƤŪɱşíĽŔɱƤĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƤĽŝĘɱíƐŪƬşđɁɱ}ƐɱƤĸĘɱ second. Or the third. In other words, it Push back. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

COVER STORY

takes practice. I used to get frustrated. But here’s something. The disciple and fisherman Peter uses the word cast when he talks about our cares and anxieties. “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you,” he says in 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV). Other translations say, “Cast all your cares” or “Cast all your worries.” The point is, we need to do it with God’s help. Doing it takes practice. And it can be frustrating because we are human and don’t always get it right. I sure don’t. But that’s okay. I’ve learned the most powerful antidote to depression is sharing it with the Lord, however imperfectly. Nothing will get you more depressed than trying to be perfect.

ings list. A door to joy. I mean, what’s more joyous than God’s love for us? Is there anything to be more grateful for? This past year has been tough for us íŔŔɁɱ×ĸĘşɱQɱǞɱƐƘƤɱĸĘíƐđɱíĉŪƬƤɱ ŪǃĽđɘǮǶɂɱ I was in Los Angeles for award-show season. The Emmys, the Grammys. I was in a much better place, gearing up for a huge tour that would launch at the end of May. All at once we were being asked to stay home. No tour. Nothing. I’m used to living alone, but after a while I was like, Oh, no. I’m going to get depressed. What if I spiral down? Who will help me? Depression, after all, thrives in isolation. It loves getting you alone. Back home in Atlanta, I’d go out for long walks, breathing in the fresh air. y whole life, I had a little list I’d listen to myself, checking in. “Are of what I thought a perfect you avoiding any dark feelings? Own daughter was, a perfect em- them. Are you really okay? Don’t fake ployee, a perfect Christian. If I crossed it. What cares do you need to cast on off everything, then I was okay. If I the Lord today? Do it!” didn’t check all those boxes, then I Especially painful was losing my fawas a bad person. Instead of casting ther this past December, a terrible loss my cares on God, I collected them. I at a time like this. Again and again, I ended up serving those lists, not God. calm myself by remembering, “God QİɱǄĘɱđĘǞɱşĘɱíɱĉíıɱĉǊɱĽƤƘɱĊƐĘíƤŪƐɛŔĽőĘɱ is with you. He is bigger than depresthe Dooney & Bourke my aunt gave sion, and he loves you. Rejoice in that.” me back in the day—why don’t we deYou may not struggle with the level ǞɱşĘɱŪƬƐƘĘŔǃĘƘɱĉǊɱƤĸĘɱƘíŝĘɱƘƤíşđíƐđɈɱ of depression I have, but almost evBy who created us? eryone gets depressed from time to Today instead of checking in with time. It’s part of being human. Don’t my own lists, I check in with God’s. be afraid to reach out, to ask for help, Instead of asking myself, “Who is mad even if it’s just from a friend. I need help at me? What have I done career-wise? are the most powerful words. They are Why am I not married?” I start by look- the key to opening the door to joy. ing at God’s list and what he has done for me. I’ll even write it down. A bless- For more on this story, see FAMILY ROOM

Learn Michelle’s daily practice for spiritual well-being at guideposts.org/michellew

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PERSONAL BEST

Like father, like daughter. This pioneering space shuttle astronaut always looked up to her war-hero dad. The inspiring lessons he taught her

to the stars By WENDY LAWRENCE

Seattle, Washington

icture the fastest roller coaster you’ve ever been on. Now picture going 10 times faster. So fast that the g-forces compress your chest and make it hard to breathe. Minutes later, the bright light of day has changed to the darkness of space. You’re still accelerating, approaching 18,000 miles per hour.

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

PHOTOS COURTESY WENDY LAWRENCE

You’re near the outer limits of Earth’s atmosphere. If you unbuckle your seat ĉĘŔƤɂɱǊŪƬɥŔŔɱǡɱŪíƤɱƐĽıĸƤɱŪİİɱǊŪƬƐɱĊĸíĽƐɁ That’s what it was like for me on March 2, 1995, the first time I rocketed into space as a Space Shuttle asƤƐŪşíƬƤɁɱQɱǄĘşƤɱŪşɱƤŪɱǡɱǊɱƤĸƐĘĘɱŝŪƐĘɱ shuttle missions, including docking with the International Space Station. And on every one of them it felt as if my dad were right there with me, even though his dream of going into space had ended decades before. QɱǄíƘɱǰǲɱǊĘíƐƘɱŪŔđɱƤĸĘɱđíǊɱŪİɱƤĸíƤɱǞɱƐƘƤɱ takeoff. It was the culmination of a dream I’d nurtured since watching the Apollo 11 moon landing in 1969. Back then, girls like 10-year-old me had no hope of becoming an astronaut. Somehow I held on to my dream. And in many ways, I owe my perseverance to the man I wished could have been beside me as I stared out the shuttle window at the awe-inspiring vastness of space. My father, U.S. Navy Vice Adm. William Lawrence. My relationship with my dad was complicated. It was also the most imƍŪƐƤíşƤɱĽşǡɱƬĘşĊĘɱŪşɱǄĸŪɱQɱǄíƘɱƤŪɱĉĘɘ come in life. I want to tell you about that relationship for two reasons. One, I want you to know my dad the way I knew him. He was a man of indomitable THE ADMIRAL AND THE AIRWOMAN Wendy with her dad, Vice Adm. William P. Lawrence. Behind them is one of the helicopters Wendy piloted in the Navy. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

will, unshakable faith in Jesus and unwaver ing commitment to duty and country. He was also imperfect, as am I. We had to rebuild a relationship from scratch starting during my teen years. I inherited Dad’s personality, and he and I sometimes disagreed. Some of

his resolute faith. Dad did not waste time feeling sorry for himself. He trusted God and did his best to stay positive by praying, composing poetry and mentally reliving the most meaningful moments of his life. Dad, a distinguished graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, had served as a naval test pilot before Dad walked off the plane. deploying to Vietnam. He to become an asHe was like a stranger. wanted tronaut but was disqualiI hugged him anyway, as ǞɱĘđɱĉǊɱíɱĸĘíƐƤɱŝƬƐŝƬƐɁ Like many who serve good a hug as I could muster. in the military, Dad was the biggest lessons I learned from him away from home a lot. He was a lovcame from watching him deal with ing father when I saw him, and I was setbacks. devastated after he was shot down. The biggest lesson I learned is that But my day-to-day life didn’t change no family relationship is beyond the much. Family life as I experienced it reach of God’s grace. had always been Mom, my two sibPeople remember my father as a lings and me. Navy pilot who survived six years in The personality I inherited from the notorious Hanoi Hilton military Dad was pragmatic, disciplined and prison in North Vietnam. Dad had focused on solving problems. I hoped been shot down during a mission in and prayed Dad was still alive. I also 1967 and declared missing in action. feared being disappointed. I tried not My family feared he was dead. I was to dwell on it. To me, he was the father not quite eight years old. I never really knew…or would know. While in prison, Dad was tortured, Then, in 1973, Dad returned home including being thrown in a six-foot as a hero. box called the Black Hole of CalcutIt was a shock to learn he was comta. Despite that, he became a leader ing home. Years earlier, Mom had conamong his fellow prisoners, helping cluded that Dad was no longer alive. devise a code to communicate by tap- She had remarried and let many of ƍĽşıɱŪşɱĊĘŔŔɱǄíŔŔƘɱíşđɱǡɱŪŪƐƘɁɱ¸ĸĘɱİíɘ Dad’s things go. I was almost 13 when mous tap code. we learned he was coming home, too Among those prisoners was future young to understand Mom’s feelings. Sen. John McCain, who later told me Now, suddenly, my siblings and I that what stood out about Dad was were with Dad’s parents at an air base 50

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PERSONAL BEST

in Tennessee watching freed war prisoners come down the steps of a military transport plane. Dad walked off the plane. He looked older than I remembered, older than he should have looked. Thinner. I knew I should feel overcome with emotion and run into my dad’s arms. But after such a long time, he was like a stranger. I hugged Dad anyway—as good a hug as I could muster—and

PROUD PAPA Wendy and her dad at her 1981 graduation from the U.S. Naval Academy; she enrolled a year after it admitted women.

stared. I didn’t know what to say. It didn’t take long for my confused feelings to resolve into action. “I want to live with Dad,” I said to my mom. He was undergoing rehabilitation near Washington, D.C., and earning a master’s degree in international affairs. He chose to remain in the Navy and was made a commander at a naval air station in California. That’s when I went to live with him. He ended up marrying a woman named Diane Rauch, a physical therapist who had worked with returning soldiers. Though I stayed close with my mom, Diane became like a second mother to me. Dad worked a lot, just as before. I ǄíƘɱđĘƤĘƐŝĽşĘđɱƤŪɱǞɱşđɱǄíǊƘɱƤŪɱƘƍĘşđɱ time with him, to grow close to him. He loved football, so I watched games with him. He taught me to play tennis, and I emulated his commitment to competition and sportsmanship. Though I asked about his war service, he didn’t want to talk about it. He told only positive stories, such as how God had helped him and how he had helped develop the tap code. He showed me the knuckle on his right hand, still swollen from years of tapping. He could tap out whole chapters of the Bible. We had our first major disagreement when the Naval Academy made the historic decision to admit women. My immediate thought was, I can become an astronaut! Dad’s immediate response to me G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

PERSONAL BEST

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IN ORBIT Wendy poses with other members of the combined crews of the Space Shuttle Atlantis and the Russian space station Mir in 1997.

Dad was a hard person to get to know. Looking back, I realize I got to know him by following in his footsteps and even going where he wasn’t able to go himself. QɱĉĘĊíŝĘɱíɱƍĽŔŪƤɱíşđɱǡɱĘǄɱŪşɱşíǃíŔɱ vessels, just like Dad. I applied to NASA and trained to become an astronaut. Just like Dad. Dad was in his sixties when NASA selected me for the astronaut program. He told me he was proud and just a little bit jealous. I was allowed

NASA/GETTY IMAGES

was: “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dad wasn’t opposed to the idea of women serving in the military. He feared I wouldn’t fit in with the academy’s all-male culture. Deep down, he wanted to protect me. “You will have to work twice as hard to get half as much recognition,” he warned me. “They will not go easy on you.” “I’m ready,” I said. “She’s ready, Bill,” said Diane. I was lucky to have Diane in my corner. She had an answer for all of Dad’s reservations. Guess who was named superintendent of the Naval Academy the year after I enrolled? That’s right. Dad. Right away he was impressed with the caliber of the school’s female students. “The military would be foolish to pass up this talented supply of recruits,” he said. I gave him a warning before graduation: “I’m going to hug you onstage.” By graduation day, he’d greeted so many people during festivities, he forgot about my warning. I was twelfth in my class. I stepped up to get my diploma, and Dad automatically held out his hand. I batted it away and instead threw myself into his arms. The crowd roared.

DAILY DO

to invite a small number of people to ǄíƤĊĸɱŝǊɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƘĸƬƤƤŔĘɱŝĽƘƘĽŪşɱƤíőĘɱŪİİɱ from Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Dad was at the top of the list. There’s not a lot of time on a shuttle mission for rumination. My mission commander gave me a few minutes to ıíǄőɱŪƬƤɱƤĸĘɱǄĽşđŪǄɱǄĸĘşɱǄĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱ began orbiting the Earth. I thought how much Dad would have loved it. “Time to get to work, Lawrence,” the commander said. I was busy for the rest of the mission. Dad was there with me, though, in spirit. «ĘǃĘşɱŝŪşƤĸƘɱíİƤĘƐɱƤĸíƤɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƘĸƬƤɘ tle launch, our relationship would change yet again. Dad underwent surgery at Bethesda Naval Hospital to correct his heart murmur. Something went wrong, and a piece of plaque dislodged from a valve and blocked blood ǡɱŪǄɱƤŪɱ%íđɥƘɱĉƐíĽşɁɱLĘɱĸíđɱíɱƘƤƐŪőĘɱ and went into a coma. He was placed on a ventilator. I rushed to Washington, D.C., with the help of my shuttle commander, ǄĸŪɱǡɱĘǄɱŝĘɱƤĸĘƐĘɱĸĽŝƘĘŔİɁ Dad was partially paralyzed on one side, and his speech and memory were affected. I eventually moved to Virginia and spent weekends with Dad, helping care for him and just sitting around and talking. After a lifetime of often business-

like conversations, Dad and I were now talking about everything. Space. Naval service. The academy. And, of course, football. Dad’s faith was like everything else in his life. Not showy. Focused on the practical. He and I didn’t talk about God much. We didn’t have to. When you serve in the military, you learn pretty quick that you are not the most important person in any given situation. You are part of a team, and you defer to the people in charge. Dad always knew that God is the ultimate one in charge. In that way that we’d developed, he knew that I knew that too. The most important thing I learned from my relationship with Dad was the power of grace. When Dad was shot down, I feared a father I barely knew was gone forever. His return to my life was a gift from God, a gift that shaped my life and the person I am. Dad taught me to see life itself as a gift. He took nothing for granted after his time in the Hanoi Hilton. He wasn’t an emotionally demonstrative person, but by the time he died, at age 75, I knew without a doubt that he loved me. And he knew that I loved him. That was the greatest gift of all. For more on this story, see FAMILY ROOM

“I take a 30-minute walk every morning on the mountain pass near my home. I like watching the seasons change—it reminds me to make the most of each day.” —CATHERINE LISOTTA, manager, Guideposts advertising operations

CAREGIVERS

The Rewards of Three family caregivers Caregiving share their most important

also to examine our relationships with God and with ourselves. In the past, whenever I’d considBy KIMBERLY ELKINS, Editor ered the possibility of one day becomhere are only four kinds of ing a caregiver for one or both of my people in the world,” former parents, the truth is I started to panic. First Lady Rosalynn Carter has But after reading and editing our consaid. “Those who have been tributors’ devotions, which are equalcaregivers. Those who are currently ly pragmatic and inspiring, I’ve found caregivers. Those who will be caregiv- my panic immeasurably lessened. ers and those who will need caregiv- Though our caregivers never sugarers.” A sobering thought but a reality coat the multitude of challenges they we’re all likely to confront at some face, the moments of unsurpassed point in our lives. As someone who poignancy, deepening bonds and— once cared for a friend with cancer and yes—joy help balance the load. Here, íŔƘŪɱĉƐĽĘǡɱǊɱşĘĘđĘđɱíɱĊíƐĘıĽǃĘƐɱŝǊƘĘŔİɱ three of our writers share their stories after an operation, I thought I had a and hard-won advice with you. decent handle on the subject. Then I became the editor of Strength & Grace, Norm Stolpe our bimonthly devotional magazine Milwaukee, Wisconsin focused on caregiving, and found I Norm Stolpe’s life was upended when still had a lot to learn. What has struck his wife, Candy, was diagnosed with me the most are all the ways in which ŔǔĸĘĽŝĘƐɥƘɱđĽƘĘíƘĘɱǞɱǃĘɱǊĘíƐƘɱíıŪɂɱíİɘ our writers illuminate the journey of ter wandering from their home in the caregiving—the stresses and strug- middle of the night. A retired pastor, gles as well as the opportunities for Norm shifted his calling from caring emotional and spiritual growth. I’d for congregations to caring for Candy. never thought of caregiving quite that “We’re constantly adjusting to the daiway before: an opportunity not only to ly changes in our new normal,” Norm get to know our loved ones better but says. “Clinging to the past is inevi-

spiritual takeaways

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MIKE ROEMER

anymore because of the precision required, but she still prepares the couple’s soups and salads. “I’m glad I can still do something around here!” Candy often says with a laugh. She also makes the bed many days, although she now has difficulty with hand-eye coordination. “If it’s lumpy, I can deal with that,” Norm says. The couple do the dishes together; he washes and she dries and puts away the dishes. Most important, when they pray aloud together, Candy still takes her turn. Sometimes Candy voices regret that she can’t do someIN STEP Norm and his thing she used to do. Norm wife, Candy, will remind her of all she’s still do everything given in their half-century totogether. gether. “We all want to feel as if we’re contributing,” Norm tably frustrating.” Instead, he makes says, “so I take great pains to assure íɱƍŪĽşƤɱŪİɱǞɱşđĽşıɱŎŪǊɱĽşɱƤĸĘɱŝŪŝĘşƤɂɱ Candy of her continued worth—to especially in celebrating Candy’s small me, to her family, to God. I’m still victories, such as when she beats him awakening to recognizing that this at Scrabble. “Joyous moments are ac- Alzheimer’s journey is a reciprocal tually holy moments,” Norm says. He partnership in which God prospers keeps a calendar and, in each day’s the work of the hands of both of us.” ƤǄŪɘĽşĊĸɱĉŪǉɂɱǄƐĽƤĘƘɱƤĸĘɱƘƍĘĊĽǞɱĊɱŝŪɘ ment of joy that day brought. He calls Edwina Perkins these his awareness-of-God boxes. Cary, North Carolina “So much of life is paying attention,” Two years ago, Edwina Perkins’s 29Norm says. “If you cultivate and ex- year-old daughter, Danielle, was dipect joy, you’ll see the little things you agnosed with breast cancer. Edwina temporarily moved to New York City might otherwise take for granted.” Such as Candy’s continued contri- to take care of her during chemotherbutions in the kitchen. She can’t bake apy. A breast cancer survivor herself, G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

Edwina knew firsthand how tough it was going to get for her daughter. What she didn’t anticipate, however, was how tough it was going to be for her. Edwina had high expectations for her role as caregiver. “I was going to be Wonder Woman,” she says. Edwina tried to anticipate Danielle’s every want and need, from food cravings to trips to the bathroom. She was soon exhausted—but afraid of letting her daughter down. “Instead of looking at the good I was doing, I was constantly looking at the ways I’d fallen short,” she says. One afternoon when Danielle asked for another piece of fruit, which would have meant a third trip to the store within a few hours, Edwina had to

ƘíǊɱşŪɁɱ ƤɱǞɱƐƘƤɂɱƘĸĘɱİĘŔƤɱıƬĽŔƤǊɱĉƬƤɱƤĸĘşɱ realized she was making a healthy decision for both of them. “I still needed to have certain boundaries so I could take care of myself. If not, I wouldn’t be able to take care of her.” And guess ǄĸíƤɈɱ%íşĽĘŔŔĘɱǄíƘɱǞɱşĘɱǄĽƤĸɱĽƤɁ Edwina prayed for the ability to give herself the same grace she so readily granted to others. “With God’s help, I gave myself the permission not to be perfect, even as a caregiver.” Pamela Haskin

Sulphur Springs, Texas

Pamela Haskin’s mother, Lucille, was diagnosed with a form of Parkinson’s disease at age 71. Although her mom was a positive person, with a surpris-

COURTESY EDWINA PERKINS

A MOTHER’S TOUCH Edwina helped daughter Danielle through her cancer treatment.

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CAREGIVERS

COURTESY PAMELA HASKIN

BACK TO LAUGHTER Pamela found creative ways to lift up her mother, Lucille.

ingly good attitude about all she was enduring, she sometimes fell into selfpity as her struggles grew more painİƬŔɱíşđɱđĽİǞɱĊƬŔƤɁɱɢQƤɥƘɱşĘĽƤĸĘƐɱĸĘíŔƤĸǊɱ nor helpful to allow her to remain in that state for long,” Lucille’s home health nurse told Pamela. “My main goal became refocusing Mom’s attention when she was feeling down or sorry for herself,” Pamela says. “I brainstormed and prayed for creative ways to encourage her.” When her mother lamented not feeling pretty anymore, Pamela painted her mom’s nails bright red. When Lucille could no longer walk well enough to go on shopping trips, Pamela convinced the manager of her favorite boutique to let her take items out to the car so her mom could “shop” from there. When her mom complained of feeling useless, Pamela asked her to think of things she could still do for others. With Pamela’s help, her mom made calls to friends and even sent ǡɱŪǄĘƐƘɱíşđɱĊíƐđƘɁ “I looked for ways to turn every task into an adventure,” Pamela says.

“Something that would distract her from her pain and frustration or, better yet, make her laugh. Mom had always been such an easy laugher, and I felt it was part of my job to bring her back to laughter.” On days when even the shortest walks were tiring, Pamela would tell her mother to focus on the wall hanging across the living room, emblazoned with the word Jesus. “‘Walk to Jesus’ became our mantra,” Pamela says. “When either of us encountered an obstacle in our lives, we would remind the other to walk to Jesus.”

Strength & Grace is a daily

devotional magazine created specially to help caregivers feel God’s love and encouragement, so they can gain the courage, strength and peace needed to meet each day. Each uplifting true story helps reveal the ways God is with you and will bolster your spirit to face the challenges of caregiving. Through the stories, Scripture and special prayers, you’ll be able to see the blessings amid the struggles of providing care. Strength & Grace magazine is the friend you need to help meet your caregiving challenges with confidence, hope—even joy. To subscribe, go to guideposts.org /strengthandgrace.

G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

CAREGIVERS

5 Ways to Set Yourself Up for Success as a Caregiver No two family caregiving situations are exactly the same. Pamela Haskin’s experience with her mother’s Parkinson’s disease differed greatly from what Edwina Perkins encountered when she moved to care for her adult daughter with cancer. Still, some experiences— including stress—are universal. Whether you’re caring for a spouse, parent or child, these tips can help you avoid burnout and successfully navigate your caregiving journey. Stay organized. As a primary caregiver, you’ll likely need to understand and manage your loved one’s financial, legal and medical affairs. Store all important documents in an easyto-reach location so you don’t have to scramble to find information when it’s needed. It’s also helpful to create a schedule that details the routines and nuances of a loved one’s care. Practice open communication. Effective communication with family members and other care providers is crucial. Ask your loved one about their needs and priorities, and be prepared to share these preferences with others. If you’re working outside the home, make sure to let your employer know about your new responsibilities. More employers are recognizing that flexible work arrangements and paid leave for elder caregiving allow them to recruit and retain employees.

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Get support. Don’t be afraid to ask for and accept help. Discuss specific tasks that your siblings or professionals can assist with, such as meal prep, light housekeeping or respite care at home from a company like Home Instead. Make use of support groups and online resources to find answers, share ideas and even talk with experts and other caregivers. If you care for someone with dementia, you may be eligible for an Alzheimer’s and Dementia Care Relief Grant; go to helpforalzheimersfamilies.com/ grant/ to apply. Take care of yourself. Remember to prioritize your physical and mental well-being. You can’t be a good caregiver if your tank is empty. A healthy diet and regular exercise can help relieve stress. Try small changes first: Eat a good breakfast, drink plenty of water and keep healthy snacks such as fruit, vegetables and nuts on hand. Try to fit in exercise whenever you can, even if for only 10 or 15 minutes. Seek a source of inspiration. Many caregivers find comfort in their spirituality. Others lean on a spouse or close friend to help keep them motivated and inspired. Activities to renew your spirit may include walking, reading or soaking up Mother Nature. For more information, visit homeinstead.com.

You’ll never guess how one California woman got to know her neighbors By EVAN MILLER, Editor “Give a fairy door to each house” In 2012, Susan Minegar Luna crafted a fairy garden by the elm in front of her Santa Ana home, seeking solace at a difficult time. She didn’t know most of the 39 families who lived on her street. Then a voice told her to make a garden for each neighbor.

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PHOTOS BY DAN MACMEDAN

Fairy Gardens

PHOTO ESSAY

Honoring her Iowa roots Susan’s original garden pays tribute to her youth and visits to a relative’s farm. An arborist neighbor made the wire fencing. She personalized each neighbor’s garden. On the facing page, the house’s blue roof evokes that family’s native Peru.

A magnet for children Susan’s grandson, Zachary, 7, and greatgranddaughter, Stella, 1, help her with weeding, planting and adding decorations. Inside the black lantern, fairies leave encouraging notes for little ones. Each garden includes a prayer behind a fairy door. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

PHOTO ESSAY

A river runs through it Decorative rocks are part of many of the gardens. Susan uses heavyduty tin foil to create a lining for the rocks, making it easier for her to refresh them. Gardens include family pets, such as this cat walking across the bridge.

Are you ready for some football? The garden of one neighbor, a diehard Dallas Cowboys fan, features America’s team. The gardens were a hit with the neighborhood’s men. “I think it harks back to when they were boys playing in the dirt,” Susan says.

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Neighbors share in the fun Susan’s neighbors added their own touches, such as this fiesta scene for a Día de los Muertos celebration in honor of the family’s Hispanic heritage. Many of the items were handcrafted.

How it all started This is Susan’s first garden, with a fairy door recessed into her elm. God saw its potential to grow and bring joy to the families of her street. A reminder to Susan that miracles are there at our feet, just waiting to be unearthed. For more on this story, see FAMILY ROOM

G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

CLOSE CALLS

The whole house shook. The windows rattled as if they’d give way any second. Then I heard a command

Speak My Word! By JEANIE JACOBSON

live near Omaha, in southeastern Nebraska. If I ran to the basement every time I heard a tornado siren go off, I’d never get anything done. So when a siren wailed one Friday in June, just two days before Father’s Day, I didn’t pay it much mind. I wanted to get my dusting done before settling down for the day. Besides, it wasn’t even raining, with barely a cloud in the early-evening sky. Maybe they’re testing the system, I

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thought. They do that a lot around here. Asher, our 12-year-old grandson who lived with us, winced at the insistent wail. “Are we going downstairs?” he asked. I looked out the window, the sky still blue. “Let me do a little more work,” I said. “Then we can get a snack and go downstairs and turn on the TV.” “Maybe we should pray?” I nodded but stubbornly polished a spot on the bookcase. Truth was, I’d

GETTY IMAGES

Bellevue, Nebraska

been feeling spiritually stuck lately. I used to wake up early every mornĽşıɱíşđɱđĘǃŪƤĘɱƤĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱĸíŔİɱĸŪƬƐɱŪİɱ my day to prayer and Scripture reading. But it had been months since I’d prayed intentionally. I barely opened my Bible anymore. It’s not as if I were angry at God. I’d simply fallen into the habit of checkĽşıɱŝǊɱDíĊĘĉŪŪőɱİĘĘđɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƤĸĽşıɱĽşɱƤĸĘɱ morning, then checking my e-mail. By then it was time for breakfast with my husband, Jake, seeing to Asher, getting the chores underway. Over the din of the siren, I could hear another sound, distant yet unmistakable. A speeding freight train. There were no railroad tracks anywhere near our home. “Run!” I yelled to Asher. “Get downstairs! Now!” We barreled down the steps to our ĉíƘĘŝĘşƤɱíşđɱƘíƤɱŪşɱƤĸĘɱǡɱŪŪƐɁɱQɱĸĘŔđɱ Asher tight against me, my heart ƍŪƬşđĽşıɁɱ ƘĸĘƐɥƘɱǞɱƘƤƘɱǄĘƐĘɱĉíŔŔĘđɂɱ trembling. “Do you think Grandpa’s okay?” he said. Jake! He was at church for a pre– Father’s Day men’s event. “I’m sure that he and everyone at the church íƐĘɱǞɱşĘɂɣɱQɱƘíĽđɂɱĸŪƍĽşıɱŝǊɱƘĸíőǊɱǃŪĽĊĘɱ didn’t betray my fear. “They’re probably praying.” I looked to the two small windows in the cinder-block wall. The light shining through them had an eerie shade of green. My mouth went dry. Why hadn’t I taken the siren seriously? Asher and I were in the safest part of the house. Still, if those windows

shattered, it would send shards of glass everywhere. I stood, legs shaking, searching for something solid to cover the windows. No luck. I sank ĉíĊőɱŪşƤŪɱƤĸĘɱǡɱŪŪƐɁɱ¸ĸĘɱƐŪíƐɱǄíƘɱƐĽıĸƤɱ on top of us. ¸ĸĘɱĸŪƬƘĘɱƘĸŪŪőɁɱ¸ĸĘɱǄĽşđŪǄƘɲƐíƤɘ tled as if they would give way any second. I thought of The Wizard of Oz, how Dorothy had dreamed of her house being sucked into the funnel cloud. Or, just as terrible, what if the house collapsed on top of us? The green light, darker and more ominous, pervaded the basement, evil and deadly. Praise me and speak my word. The words penetrated the tumult with brilliant clarity. I tried for a second to make sense of it. I was too scared to praise anything. Maybe if I got through this…. Praise me and speak my word! Not a suggestion. A command. I wobbled to my feet and croaked out, “Great are you, oh Lord, and greatly to be praised!” I shouted above the roar of the tornado, raising my hands above me. The winds bore down on us relentlessly, but my fear? Gone. God had taken it from me. It was as if he held Asher and me in his mighty hands. Even Asher could sense the change. He looked at me in amazement. QɱƘƤƐŪđĘɱĊŪşǞɱđĘşƤŔǊɱĉíĊőɱíşđɱİŪƐƤĸɂɱ the length of our basement, calling out every biblical promise of protection I knew. God’s covenant with Noah. Daniel in the lions’ den. Jesus taming the Sea of Galilee. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

“Why are you so afraid, you with little faith?” Jesus had asked the disciples. I’d always thought of faith as a cloak one would wear, a physical assurance that would never forsake me. That cloak had slipped off when I’d let my relationship with God slide. But faith was the only thing now standing between us and the tornado. “Great is thy faithfulness,” I shouted. The louder the tornado screamed, STRONGER TOGETHER Jeanie and her grandson Asher supported each other through the perilous storm.

ƤĸĘɱŝŪƐĘɱŝǊɱĊŪşǞɱđĘşĊĘɱıƐĘǄɁɱɢDíɘ ther, I praise you!” Then, as suddenly as it started, the storm stopped. Dimming light filtered through the windows. Slowly it dawned on me that the room was silent. The chirp of my cell phone shattered the stillness. It was Jake. “Honey, are you and Asher okay?” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t remember when I’d felt more okay. “Yes, we’re safe. Be careful coming home.” Asher and I climbed the stairs. Through the dining room window, our yard looked like a war zone, with massive tree limbs, trash, patio chairs, pieces of insulation and shingles strewn everywhere. I walked about the house in a daze. The shaking had shifted furniture nearly six inches, but our home’s foundation had held. I felt as if I had found my own foundation. The storm wreaked havoc across the Omaha area, though thankfully no one died. Two twisters with winds estimated at more than 110 miles per hour had hit. No wonder it took Jake more than an hour to make the short drive home from church. In the driveway, I collapsed in his arms. “I was so worried about you,” Jake said. “I hated the idea of you and Asher being alone.” I could hear the sound of chainsaws ǞɱŔŔĽşıɱƤĸĘɱíĽƐɱíƐŪƬşđɱŝĘɱíƘɱşĘĽıĸĉŪƐƘɱ helped neighbors. Just two days from now would be Father’s Day. I couldn’t wait to celebrate—beginning with my Father above, first thing in the morning.

Read 10 prayers from the Bible to banish fear at guideposts.org/banishfear

DANIEL JOHNSON

CLOSE CALLS

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OVERCOMING ADDICTION

he knot in my stomach grew tighter. I was dropping off my teenage daughter, Maggie, at her friend’s house. She was staying over with some high school classmates, kids in her drama club, girls and boys. I was worried, maybe more than I needed to be. I trusted my daughter. I hoped she had learned from my own history. Still, as she turned and waved, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Remember, honey, no drinking.” “How many times do I have to tell

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

By CAROL WEIS

Easthampton, Massachusetts

you, Mom?” she said, annoyed. “My friends and I don’t do that!” I wanted to believe her. Maggie was 16, the same age I was when I had ŝǊɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƐĘíŔɱđƐĽşőɁɱ ŪƤĸɱŝǊɱƍíƐĘşƤƘɱ drank every single day, enough to cause trouble in their marriage and constant fear in our family. Alcoholic parents usually produce two types of children: abstainers or problem drinkers. I was the latter. I worried Maggie could be too. I became a serious partier in college, going to keg parties and drinking way

PHOTOS COURTESY CAROL WEIS

Not Like Me

I didn’t want my daughter to make the same mistakes I did. Neither did she, I found out too much. Then I drove home drunk; there was no such thing as a designatĘđɱđƐĽǃĘƐɱĉíĊőɱƤĸĘşɁɱ ĘƘĽđĘƘɂɱQɱƤĸŪƬıĸƤɱ I drove better when I was drinking. I thought I did everything better. AlcoĸŪŔɱıíǃĘɱŝĘɱƤĸĘɱĊŪşǞɱđĘşĊĘɱQɱǄĽƘĸĘđɱ I actually had. It banished the fear, at least temporarily. My twenties were even worse. I added drugs to my repertoire. I increasingly worried about what I was doing to myself. Yet I didn’t want to stop. During those wild years, I met my daughter’s dad, who drank as much as

QɱđĽđɁɱ¸ĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƤĽŝĘɱĸĘɱĊíŝĘɱƤŪɱǃĽƘĽƤɱŝĘɱ in Philadelphia, where I was working as a cook, I told him I thought I had a drinking problem. “Trust me,” he said. “I know what alcoholics look like, and you’re not one of them.” His parents ǄĘƐĘɱĸĘíǃǊɱđƐĽşőĘƐƘɱƤŪŪɁɱ ƬƤɱĽşƘƤĘíđɱ of listening to my own inner voice, I moved to Massachusetts to live with him, and when I was 35, we married. ǊɱƤĸĘşɂɱQɱǄíƘɱđƐĽşőĽşıɱĘǃĘƐǊɱđíǊɁɱQɱ EASY DOES IT Carol sometimes took her daughter, Maggie, with her to AA meetings.

For free Daily Guideposts for Recovery booklets, go to guideposts.org/hopeforrecovery

OVERCOMING ADDICTION

started making promises to myself that I found harder and harder to keep. Things like not drinking on Tuesdays or Thursdays and no drinking before 5 P.M. I was trying to negotiate with my alcoholism. Then I got pregnant. I was sure I could make it through all nine months without alcohol. I was wrong. I kept at it through Maggie’s early childhood. One night when I was home alone with Maggie, who was ƤĸĘşɱǞɱǃĘɂɱQɱđƐíşőɱƘŪɱŝƬĊĸɱǄĽşĘɱƤĸíƤɱQɱ ƤĸƐĘǄɱƬƍɱŪşɲƤĸĘɲǡɱŪŪƐɱşĘǉƤɱƤŪɱŝǊɱĉĘđɱ and passed out. I woke up with a voice of shame in my head that not even a drink could silence. ¸ǄŪɱŝŪşƤĸƘɱŔíƤĘƐɂɱíƤɱíıĘɱǱǯɂɱQɱǞɱşíŔŔǊɱ surrendered. I went to AA and got into therapy. A day at a time, I didn’t drink. My husband, who was still drinking, left four months after I quit. Suddenly I was raising a daughter alone and navigating early sobriety. At times it seemed more than I could handle. It was the support I got at AA meetings that kept me going. Sometimes during school vacations ŪƐɱǄĸĘşɱQɱĊŪƬŔđşɥƤɱǞɱşđɱíɱƘĽƤƤĘƐɂɱQɱĸíđɱ to take Maggie to meetings with me. I packed her crayons, coloring books and snacks. My home group met in a big church hall with a stage. Maggie would climb up on the stage, roll out

her little sleeping bag and tuck herself in. Having her there helped center me. Still, I sometimes worried about her spending time in that environment. I prayed to my higher power that it was the right choice. Like any alcoholic parent in recovery, I worried about the damage I might have done to my child with my drinking. Once, when Maggie was 10, I rented a cabin on Cape Cod for a few days, just for the two of us. I bought a bag of groceries, which included a bottle that looked like wine but wasn’t. Maggie freaked out when she saw it. Crying, she ran out of the house and hid behind a tree in the backyard until I poured the bottle down the drain and reassured her it wasn’t alcohol. Suddenly I realized that’s what I had wanted to do with my parents’ bottles when I was Maggie’s age. Just to make them stop. I swept my daughter into my arms and held her close for a long time. When Maggie reached high school, the age I was when I started drinking, I began to worry almost obsessively. Worrying that the cycle would continue, worrying about peer pressure and her wanting to be accepted, like any teenager. ǊɱƤĸĘɱƤĽŝĘɱQɱƍĽĊőĘđɱƬƍɱpíııĽĘɱİƐŪŝɱ

—THERESA STUFANO, Guideposts senior database specialist

DAILY DO

“I start each morning with a glass of water, a daily devotion and a Scripture reading. This helps me stay focused on God, not on what’s going on around me.”

her friend’s house the day after the party, I was in a state. What if she’d been drinking? Would she tell me the truth if I asked? On the way home, we stopped at a McDonald’s. We sat down in one of the booths. “Mom, there’s something bothering me,” she said, “and you’re probably not going to like it.” She told me there had been drinking at the party and that some of her friends were even trying drugs. Here it comes, I thought. I could barely breathe. Maggie looked down. “Last night, I tried something that had alcohol ĽşɱĽƤɂɣɱƘĸĘɱƘíĽđɁɱɢ ƬƤɱǄĸĘşɱQɱƐĘíŔĽǔĘđɱ what it was, I threw it away.” I let out my breath and said a prayer of profound thanks. “Thank you for telling me,” I said. “After I took that first sip, I thought about all the meetings you took me to, how I grew up watching you and others get sober. About what you had to go through. That helped me realize what I want and don’t want in my life.” She reached across the table for my hand. “Thank you for that, Mom.” There are many miracles in sobriĘƤǊɁɱ«ŪŝĘɱĸíǃĘɱĸíƍƍĘşĘđɱƤŪɱŝĘɁɱ ƬƤɱ none have been as meaningful as this, to hear that what I had done out of necessity, even desperation, has helped my daughter make choices that could save her own life. For more on this story, see FAMILY ROOM

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SPIRITUAL NOTEBOOK

Walking Velma

It started out as a favor. It became a burden. How could I learn to say no? By LINDA NEUKRUG

“

ook at the little dog!” a girl squealed from across the street. “She’s got rain boots!” I smiled and waved. Yes, Velma had her own rain boots, her own raincoat, both of which matched the leash I was holding and the bow in her hair. I would never have put clothes on any animal I owned, but Velma wasn’t my dog. I’d just offered to walk her this ŝŪƐşĽşıɱǄĸĘşɱŝǊɱşĘĽıĸĉŪƐɥƘɱǞɱĉƐŪɘ ŝǊíŔıĽíɱǡɱíƐĘđɱƬƍɁ “She’s adorable!” the little girl’s mother called to me. Velma was adorable. A real sweetie. A shih tzu mix who weighed no more ƤĸíşɱǞɱǃĘɱƍŪƬşđƘɂɱƘĸĘɱŔŪŪőĘđɱŔĽőĘɱíɱƤĽşǊɱ mop bustling down the street. When Arlene had asked me to walk Velma, I’d been happy to volunteer. I was less pleased when Arlene made me spend 72

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

20 minutes putting on Velma’s raincoat and four tiny rain boots. That’s what fur is for, I’d thought, thinking of my low-maintenance cats sleeping in my apartment. Once outside, I’d expected to walk Velma around the block quickly. But with all the people stopping me every few minutes to make a fuss over the ŔĽƤƤŔĘɱđŪıɱíşđɱĸĘƐɱŪƬƤǞɱƤɂɱĽƤɱǄíƘɱƤíőĽşıɱ me forever. It was a relief to get her back home. I had done my good deed íşđɱĊŪƬŔđɱǞɱşíŔŔǊɱıŪɱŪİİɱƤŪɱǄŪƐőɱĉĘİŪƐĘɱ I was late. “Thank you so much,” Arlene said at the door. I turned to go. “So I’ll see you again at noon.”

ILLUSTRATION BY JACKIE BESTEMAN

Walnut Creek, California

“Wait, what?” “That’s when Velma gets her next walk,” Arlene said, as if I’d somehow agreed to a whole daily schedule. “I’m sorry, Arlene,” I said, “I have to be at work.” “Oh,” Arlene said. “I guess we’ll see you at six then.” “Great,” I said, making my escape. I was a quarter block away before it dawned on me that I’d just agreed to walk her dog again at six! How had I let that happen? Was I that much of a people pleaser that I automatically did things I really didn’t want to do? That day was just the beginning. All the next week, Arlene “reminded”

me to walk Velma at various times throughout the day. I found myself inventing appointments and work meetings, but my phantom excuses were no match for Arlene’s persistence. She’d just ask me to reschedule my engagements, or she’d work around them. I almost always caved. “Velma adores you,” she said one evening when I came to get the dog. “Sometimes I think she likes you better than she likes me.” That sent a shiver down my spine. Was Arlene trying to make me Velma’s permanent dog walker? God, what have I gotten myself into? “She talks as if I should feel lucky to get to walk her dog!” I complained to my friend Callie on the phone when I got home. “If I had this much time to spend on a dog, I’d get my own.” “You just have to tell her no, Linda,” Callie said. “I’ve tried!” I cried. “But every time I do, I get tongue-tied. Can’t she see I’m exhausted?” “That’s why you have to tell her.” I tried to get up the nerve. I even practiced in front of the mirror. “No,” I said. Even to me, it sounded weak. I tried shouting, “No! I can’t walk Velma anymore!” That will get my point across, I thought, knowing that I would never actually raise my voice to Arlene. I imagined Arlene’s face falling when I refused to walk Velma. After all, she was dealing with a medical issue. I’m sure she missed walking her dog. Maybe she’d cry. Maybe I would. Arlene and I had always gotten along G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

SPIRITUAL NOTEBOOK

ǞɱşĘɱíƘɱşĘĽıĸĉŪƐƘɂɱíşđɱƤĸĽƘɱǄŪƬŔđɱƐƬĽşɱ things. I’d wind up trying to avoid her. God, I prayed during one of Velma’s evening walks, I just don’t know what to do about this situation. But I have to do something. Help me. “What kind of dog is she?” a person suddenly stopped and asked me. “A problem one,” I almost said. Once home, I called Callie. “I gave Arlene a list of local dog walkers, but she hasn’t called any of them,” I said. “And get this: Arlene now says Velma needs another walk every day. At eleven at night! Well, I said, Velma might be up at that hour, but I wouldn’t be. I don’t know how I got roped—or should I say leashed—into this!” “I’m getting pretty tired of hearing you complain about her, to be honest,” Callie said. “What?” “I’m sorry, but you’re being such a martyr, Linda. Can’t we talk about something else?” I hung up the phone. How could Callie be so rude? No, I told myself, she wasn’t really rude, just honest. Callie was still my friend. Maybe instead

3 Takeaways From Linda 1 Always help out a neighbor when you can. 2 Know and respect your limits. 3 Never be afraid to be honest.

of resenting her bluntness just now, I ought to try following her example. Before I could lose my nerve, I marched over to Arlene’s. “As much as I love Velma, I don’t want to walk her four—or even three—times a day. My reason is—” I stopped abruptly. I didn’t have to give a reason. “It’s just too much for me.” I stopped. Waited. Inwardly cringed as I waited for Arlene’s response. There was a long pause. “Velma can go out on the lawn in the morning,” Arlene said, thoughtfully. “I’ll use her extra-long leash and watch her through the window. There’s a retired ŔíđǊɱǞɱǃĘɱđŪŪƐƘɱđŪǄşɱǄĸŪɱŝĽƘƘĘƘɱĸĘƐɱ old dog. She might walk Velma at six.” She grinned. “And I still have that list of dog walkers you gave me.” Arlene was taking it so well, I found myself wanting to compromise, still a bit of a people pleaser. “I could take her to the dog park on Saturday,” I said. Now that I didn’t have to walk her constantly, I realized I was going to miss sweet Velma! “I really appreciate all you did for her,” Arlene said. “And for me. Thank you, Linda.” By the time Arlene recovered, she and I were just as friendly as ever. So were Velma and I. I’d thought walking the little dog took up too much of my time, but all the time I wasted complaining about the situation was on me. I just needed to learn when to say yes and when to say no. And when to see that God was using a dog to teach me that lesson.

Love stories about pets? Get All Creatures magazine at guideposts.org/allcreatures

STORY OF A SONG

A Spoonful of Sugar

WALT DISNEY PICTURES/PHOTOFEST

By KIMBERLY ELKINS, Editor

obert Sherman was desperate. He and his brother, Richard, had been hired to create the songs for Walt Disney’s upcoming 1964 ǞɱŔŝɱMary Poppins, a musical version of the children’s books by P. L. Travers. Disney himself wanted Julie Andrews to play the part of the magical English nanny. The actress asked to hear the movie’s songs. When the brothers played their tunes, she loved them all…except for their favorite, the one that Robert íşđɱ£ĽĊĸíƐđɱĸíđɱĉĘĘşɲĊĘƐɘ ƤíĽşɲǄŪƬŔđɱĉĘɱíɱĸĽƤɁɱ×íŔƤɱ Disney demanded a replacement for it, pronto. The brothers, however, had run out of ideas. Disheartened, Robert headed home. He asked his family how their day was and learned that his young son, Jeffrey, had received his polio vaccination at school. “Did it hurt?” he asked his son, who was notorious for wreaking

havoc whenever anyone tried to give him an injection. No, Jeffrey said, there was no shot this time. Just a drop of liquid on a sugar cube that he swallowed. A light bulb went off in Robert’s head, and he rushed to call his brother. The next day, Richard put íɱŝĘŔŪđǊɱƤŪɱ£ŪĉĘƐƤɥƘɱŔǊƐĽĊƘɃɱɢ ɱƘƍŪŪşɘ ful of sugar helps the medicine go down.” And so out of a medical ŝĽƐíĊŔĘɂɱƤĸĘɱǞɱŔŝɥƘɱĽĊŪşĽĊɱƘŪşıɱǄíƘɱ born—in a most delightful way.

THE PERFECT NANNY Julie Andrews counsels her young charges in Mary Poppins. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

GUIDEPOSTS BOOKS

All in Good Time

Meet Ruth Logan Herne, an author in Guideposts’ new mystery series, Miracles & Mysteries of Mercy Hospital By ELENA TAFONE, Editor

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

BUSY, BUSY Author Ruth Logan Herne juggles her writing with life on the family farm.

11 of whom live nearby, and they like to bounce on the furniture. Not a couch or a love seat in that pretty little family room has support anymore. But it’s not about where you write—it’s about the words on the page.” Ruth has penned more than 60 books this way, waking in the middle

COURTESY RUTH LOGAN HERNE

t’s not quite four o’clock in the morning at Blodgett Family Farm in the hills of upstate New York. ¸ĸĘɱǞɱĘŔđƘɱíşđɱƍƬŝƍőĽşɱƍíƤĊĸĘƘɱ may be draped in darkness, but there’s a light shining in the farmhouse window. Ruth Logan Herne, an íǄíƐđɘǄĽşşĽşıɱĽşƘƍĽƐíƤĽŪşíŔɱǞɱĊƤĽŪşɱ author, is hard at work. Ruth gets up a little after three o’clock every morning to write. Though she has a home office, she rarely uses it. She prefers to sit on the İíŝĽŔǊɱƐŪŪŝɱǡɱŪŪƐɱǄĽƤĸɱĸĘƐɱŔíƍƤŪƍɁ “When you’re older, hips and joints don’t necessarily like soft furniture,” she says. “We have 14 grandchildren,

of the night and cranking out at least a thousand words before dawn. It’s a routine that began more than 20 years ago. Back then, Ruth was running a day care out of her home. Though she’d dreamed of becoming an author since she was a little girl, between her job, the farm and raising six children, she barely had time to sit, let alone write. “I always knew it would happen, though,” Ruth says. “It was just a matter of timing. A matter of faith.” The time came early one morning—at three o’clock. “I just woke up. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. It kept happening over the next few weeks. It was as if God was telling me, ‘You need time? Well, here it is!’” As her family slept, Ruth would work at her typewriter. “I’m blessed to need only about six hours of sleep,” she says. Ruth goes to bed each day at 9:30 P.M. and wakes at a little after three. She never needs an alarm. A year into her 3 A.M. writing practice, she got a hand-me-down word processor from an acquaintance. A year and a half after that, Ruth graduíƤĘđɱƤŪɱĸĘƐɱǞɱƐƘƤɱĊŪŝƍƬƤĘƐɂɱíɱıĽİƤɱİƐŪŝɱíɱ friend. “Our two oldest children were in college by then,” she recalls. “Mon-

ey was nonexistent. But opportunity was there.” By the time a publisher bought her first manuscript, she’d completed drafts of 11 different novels. While her books have uplifting endings, Ruth doesn’t shy away from writing about the life challenges— đĽǃŪƐĊĘɂɱǞɱşíşĊĽíŔɱƍƐŪĉŔĘŝƘɂɱƤĸĘɱŔŪƘƘɱŪİɱ a loved one—that teach people faith, hope and perseverance. Something Ruth learned from her childhood. “My parents were both alcoholics. I had a tough upbringing in a lot of ways,” she says. “But it taught me a lot. I believe you have to move beyond the past and grab hold of the future. Make it your own. My stories don’t dwell in that darkness because I don’t dwell in it.” Her latest book, Prescription for Mystery, the second in Guideposts’ new Miracles & Mysteries of Mercy Hospital series, is all about bringing the truth to light. The story follows four friends who work at a historic hospital in Charleston, South Carolina. When they stumble upon a clue that a doctor’s sudden disappearance may be something more, they band together to solve the mystery. Ruth has always loved reading mysteries, but it wasn’t until 2017, with the Guideposts series Mysteries of Martha’s Vineyard, that she wrote one of her own. “I’d decided in my head that I couldn’t write a mystery, but when Guideposts asked me, I couldn’t say no.” G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

GUIDEPOSTS BOOKS

Again, it all came down to timing. “I got the call when I had a three-week window of time, waiting for an editor to get back to me about a manuscript. Another God thing!” she says. With summer soon in full swing, Ruth and her husband, Dave, are busier than ever. The pumpkins that Blodgett Family Farm is known for are planted in May and need to be carefully tended until they’re ripe for the picking, in October. “It’s the family project,” says Ruth. “Children come and help, grandchildren come and help, friends come and help.” Until winter, the only opportunity Ruth will have to write is during those

early morning hours: 3 A.M. to 7 A.M., her quiet time. “I make sure to pray then and sometimes read Scripture,” she says. “I believe that if you live your life as a prayer, you don’t need to be on bended knee as much. Because living your life in a God-honoring way is the best prayer.” There’s a plaque on Ruth’s desk with a quote attributed to writer Erma Bombeck: “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left but could say, ‘I’ve used everything you gave me.’” That’s Ruth’s aim too: Make the most of everything God has given her.

MIRACLES & MYSTERIES OF MERCY HOSPITAL Ruth Logan Herne is just one of the inspiring authors writing for Miracles & Mysteries of Mercy Hospital, a new fiction series from Guideposts. This cozy mystery series features four women from different walks of life who witness miracles happening around them at historic Mercy Hospital and become fast and faithful friends. Join Joy, Evelyn, Anne and Shirley as they solve the puzzling mysteries that arise over the course of their workdays at this Charleston, South Carolina, landmark—rumored to be under the protection of a guardian angel. Come along as the quartet gathers clues, stumbles upon hidden passageways and discovers historical treasures along the way. This fast-paced series is filled with inspiration, adventure, mystery, delightful humor and loads of Southern charm! Turn to the insert after page Order Now 74 to order Where Mercy Begins, the Open your phone’s first book in the series. To read a camera app, then focus free preview, go to shopguideposts on the QR code to get the new book series. .org/mercyhospital.

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

FROM OUR FACEBOOK FANS

Messages From Above Lori M. Miller

I’d been struggling with depression, and my therapist recomŝĘşđĘđɱƘƤíƐƤĽşıɱíɱǄĘĘőŔǊɱíĊƤĽǃĽƤǊɱƤŪɱĸĘŔƍɱŝĘɱŝĘĘƤɱƍĘŪƍŔĘɁɱQɥđɲíŔɘ ways been a homebody. I usually came home from work and stayed in the rest of the night. Then an idea came out of nowhere: Join a bowling league. As if the sentence had been placed in my head. I’d never bowled in my life, never even set foot in a bowling alley. Yet this decision just felt right. I signed up for a league and began going once a week. I loved it and made some friends, but I still wasn’t sure what had drawn me to bowling. Until my third week, when I played against Dave. He was funny and sweet, and we hit it off immediately. That was 31 years ago—and we’ve been together ever since! Alice C. Hunt

The day after Dad died, we were all spent. But we still had to eat. “Let’s go to Bobo’s,” my brother, Alex, suggested. “It was Dad’s favorite.” The Topeka, Kansas, drive-in had a simple menu of burgers, fries and—Dad’s personal favorite—apple pie. My brother pulled up, and we ordered our usual: three double Spanish burgers, two orders of fries, one order of onion rings, a chocolate shake, a strawberry shake and a cherry malt. We paid and drove home to eat. “I’m glad your father’s not in pain anymore,” Mom said, unpacking the paper bags on the kitchen table. “But I just wish we knew for sure that he’s okay.” Mom pulled out a slice of Bobo’s apple pie. “You didn’t order this, did you?” “No,” I said. “Check the receipt.” There was no apple pie listed on it. Mom smiled. “I guess I have my answer.” Robin Kennedy

Wait for me! I wanted to shout, but my friends were ahead on the trail and out of sight. We had been hiking Georgia’s Tallulah Gorge. The trail at this spot was a narrow path over slabs of stone. To my left—a steep incline of dense forest. To my right—a sharp drop into the gorge. My feet slipped on something squishy. Oh, no. For the next 20 paces, the stone was overgrown with wet moss. Well, Lord, I accept whatever’s coming.ɲLŪŔđɘ ing my breath, I inched forward. My feet slid and I reached out blindly— catching a slender vine. It gave me the balance I needed to get to steadier ground. Regaining my breath, I turned to see the vine—but there was no vine. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

BUILDING STRONGER FAMILIES

Why was I the only one who cared about my son’s graduation ceremony?

My Old School By JANET PAIGE SMITH

opened the freezer and shoved in the cake—a sheet cake with my son’s name in red and black frosting—the colors of the University of Georgia, where Laughlin, my youngest, would graduate in May. Except now there would be no graduation because of the pandemic. I had been looking forward to Laughlin’s graduation. For a lot of reasons. I’m a UGA grad too. I didn’t attend my graduation ceremony because I was in the midst of wedding preparations and receiving an Army commisƘĽŪşɱíƘɱíşɱíĽƐɱđĘİĘşƘĘɱíƐƤĽŔŔĘƐǊɱŪİǞɱĊĘƐɁ “No graduation!” I said, a bit anşŪǊĘđɱƤĸíƤɱŝǊɱƘŪşɂɱǞɱşĽƘĸĽşıɱĊŪƬƐƘĘɘ work at home, didn’t seem bothered. “I need to focus on my classes and getting a job, Mom,” he said. Of course. But Laughlin didn’t know what he was missing. 80

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Years later, I still regretted skipping my UGA ceremony. I didn’t even have a proper high school graduation; with so many credits from attending multiple schools as an Army brat, I went from eleventh grade to college. I’d been planning the festivities for Laughlin since January. I’d put together an invitation list, sent savethe-date e-mails to family members so they could start making travel arrangements and searched for a venue near campus for the party. And, of course, I’d ordered the cake. Every day the pandemic worsened, I prayed for the people who’d lost their jobs, for the elderly dying in nursing homes, for the sick in hospitals with no loved ones by their side.

COURTESY JANET PAIGE SMITH

Sparta, Georgia

GO, DAWGS! Janet and son Laughlin had an impromptu on-campus graduation ceremony.

And I prayed for God to bless me— er, Laughlin—with a graduation. Deep in my heart, I knew my graduation obsession was out of proportion to what was happening in the world. Still, my thoughts kept returning to my vision of strolling the lush campus as a proud mom, reveling in the crepe myrtles and azaleas, taking family pictures in front of Sanford Stadium. I checked my e-mail every day for a rescheduled ceremony. Other schools were holding makeup graduations. Why not UGA? But a spike in Covid cases followed a summer lull. Laughlin’s diploma arrived in a

black-and-red tube in the mail. I pulled the cake out of the freezer and served it half-heartedly. Laughlin found a job and moved to Atlanta. Lord, where’s my graduation? One fall evening, a student called from the UGA alumni fundraising committee. I was delighted to tell him about Laughlin’s diploma. “Did your son participate in the graduation ceremony last week?” the young man asked. “What ceremony?” I exclaimed. “The one at the stadium,” the student said. “To make up for the cancellation in spring.” QɱđĽíŔĘđɱƤĸĘɱŪİǞɱĊĘɱŪİɱƤĸĘɱđĘíşɱŪİɱƘƤƬɘ đĘşƤɱíİİíĽƐƘɁɱɢ×ĸǊɱǄíƘşɥƤɱQɱşŪƤĽǞɱĘđɈɣɱ “Mrs. Smith, we sent an announcement to your son’s school e-mail,” said the woman who took my call. I called up Laughlin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “Mom, I stopped checking my school e-mail,” Laughlin said. “I’m busy.” He paused. “I did hear about the ceremony. I knew you’d make me go, so I didn’t say anything. Why would I risk my family’s life for a ceremony? You and Dad are in a vulnerable age group. No way would I do that.” Laughlin’s diploma rested beside the phone. I felt tears in my eyes. I needed to stop complaining and ŔŪŪőɱíƤɱƤĸĘɱĉĽıɱƍĽĊƤƬƐĘɁɱpǊɱƘŪşɱĸíđɱǞɱşɘ ished college and found a job during a time of national crisis. God had answered my graduation prayer. Laughlin had graduated to a new level of maturity. Now he was teaching me. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

MAKING MARRIAGE WORK

The Pastor’s Wife

Her perfect family life wasn’t turning out so perfect By BRIANNA BELL, Guelph, Ontario, Canada

PHOTOS BY EVAN DION

was 27 years old and living the life I always wanted…or thought I did. I was married to a youth pastor. We had two daughters, and I was pregnant with our third baby girl. My husband, Daniel, was busy at church (very busy), and our family was beloved by the congregation. We were like the youth group families I’d idolized growing up, with their stay-at-home moms, cheerful kids and involvement in church. My own family was the opposite. My dad had walked out while my mom was pregnant with me. My mom worked long hours but couldn’t afford much beyond the necessities. I was a self-proclaimed Jesus freak, riding my bike miles every Sunday to attend church by myself, where I’d sit in a pew with my middle school friends and long to belong to one of the families around me. For years, I’d prayed for the kind of family I had now.

Why was I so unhappy? It wasn’t just that I was struggling emotionally with an exhausting third pregnancy or that I had recently been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I felt totally unsuited to being a pastor’s wife and stay-at-home mom. I’m not the most organized person, and my days at home with the kids did not remotely resemble the sprightly, creative families I saw on social media— let alone the relaxed, can-do moms I remembered from youth group. I wanted to support Daniel’s ministry, but more and more I found myself resenting how much time his job required. Not to mention the master’s of divinity he was completing on the side. Much of his work happened during afternoons, evenings, weekends— ĘǉíĊƤŔǊɱǄĸĘşɱŝǊɱĘşĘƐıĽĘƘɱǡɱíııĘđɱíşđɱ WORKING MOM Brianna has learned to balance her roles as spouse, parent and freelance journalist. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

MAKING MARRIAGE WORK

I yearned for Daniel’s help and companionship. I’d studied communications when I was in college, and I hadn’t anticipated how much I would miss writing professionally after the kids arrived. The more my parenting duties expanded, the more I wished I could work part-time to supplement Daniel’s modest income. Our family was God’s answer to my prayers. Why couldn’t I be grateful? What was wrong with me? Everything came to a head when I got the diabetes diagnosis. A routine blood test came back showing elevated sugar levels. My doctor said I needed more tests right away. Daniel was at church, overseeing a youth event. I called to tell him, but he couldn’t leave the kids at the event unsupervised. It was nearing bedtime for Penny and Georgia, our four- and two-yearolds. I recruited one friend to stay with the girls while another, Lauren, took me to the hospital. Lauren helped me into her car. I struggled to fasten the seat belt. “I wish Daniel were here,” I said. She squeezed my hand. By the time I returned, late that night, Daniel still wasn’t home. I knew something had to change. “Why couldn’t you at least come to the hospital?” I demanded when he arrived. “This isn’t what I thought our family would be like.” Daniel held me and told me he was sorry. In his voice, I heard how torn he 84

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• June/July 2021

FAMILY TIME Brianna, husband Daniel and daughters Penny, Eloise and Georgia

was between his obligations. I knew it was unfair to blame him. It wasn’t his fault that the life I’d always wanted was making me unhappy. I didn’t even know how to express what was wrong, and I was afraid of what might happen if I did. Daniel would never walk out on me the way my own dad had. But would he be upset if I upended our family balance just so I could work? Would I be honoring God if I chose work over my family? Was that even a fair question to ask? Mom told me my dad had never been particularly reliable. He wasn’t a doting husband even while my mom was pregnant. By the time I was born, it was just my mom and me. Mom moved in with her parents for a while when I was born. I often spent weekends and time after school with my grandparents. Though Mom worked as a train station agent, often on evenings and weekends, money

was tight. Everything felt precarious. I found the security I craved at a church youth group. Mom signed me up for vacation Bible school. I kept going. I wished my family could be like those youth group families: two parĘşƤƘɂɱŝŪŝɱíƤɱĸŪŝĘɂɱǞɱşíşĊĽíŔŔǊɱ stable, involved in church. I asked God for a family like that. A family like Daniel’s. He and I had met during college. Daniel’s father owned a business, and his mom stayed home, raising three kids and taking care of the household, where Daniel and his friends liked to hang out—looting the fridge and piling on the sofa to watch TV. Daniel’s only rebellion was embracing a stricter version of Christianity than his parents had. For Daniel, an old-fashioned family felt like part of God’s call. For me, it felt like the safe harbor I’d always wanted. Four months after we married, I learned I was pregnant with Penny. Our perfect family was on its way.

Her husband was holding their baby. My back ached from carrying Penny. “Daniel’s here helping with the carnival,” I said. “I’m not sure where.” Late that evening, Daniel and I were still at church while Penny slept in her car seat. I helped clean up the mess, long after other families had gone home and tucked their kids into bed. I kept thinking about my friend’s husband holding their baby. Not long after Daniel got a job as a youth pastor at a different church, our second daughter, Georgia, was born. Daniel’s new job was even more demanding. The youth group was large, and Daniel had high hopes for the students he worked with. He left the house every morning and sometimes didn’t get home until late at night. A restlessness built inside me. I’d assumed that a key part of the family I yearned for would be a mom who stayed home with the kids. But in my heart of hearts, I wanted to do more than parent. I wanted to be a freelance journalist, to have responsibilities outside the house, to contribute to the family income. t didn’t take long for my idealism Making that desire a reality would to wane. As a new pastor, Daniel require everyone to change. It felt was paid little but expected to be risky. How could I pray to God for help available day and night. We lived in a when I was turning my back on what basement apartment, barely afford- he’d already provided? ing groceries. I felt alone, constantly I made friends with a woman at exhausted. church named Franchesca. She had ×ĸĘşɱ ĘşşǊɱǄíƘɱǞɱǃĘɱŝŪşƤĸƘɱŪŔđɂɱ two kids and was a graphic designer. we dressed her up as a puppy and took I tried to convince her not to return to her to the church Halloween carnival. work after maternity leave. I couldn’t “Where’s Daniel?” a friend asked. bear my days without her. Who would

G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

MAKING MARRIAGE WORK

I meet for park dates and long walks? Franchesca said she enjoyed working, íşđɱQɱĸíđɱƤŪɱíđŝĽƤɱĸĘƐɱőĽđƘɱđĽđɱǞɱşĘɱĽşɱ day care. I could tell by the way she talked about her job that she found something in her workplace that she didn’t at home. “Why did we even decide that only you can work?” I asked Daniel one night while I loaded the dishwasher. “Of course you can work,” he said. “It’s just that day care is so expensive.” Daniel had encouraged me to write before, but this seemed like a more direct invitation. He and I worked out an arrangement. I would write while the kids took their naps. If I got paid, we could afford some child care. I sold a few articles and decided to put the girls in day care two days a week. It felt momentous.

hen I got pregnant with Eloise. Was God trying to tell me to stop working? I remembered my mom and how she would agonize over who would watch me while she worked. Eventually I told her it would be easier if I just looked after myself. Though my mom and I were close, our relationship was complicated. It must have wounded her every time she heard me say that I wished I had a “normal” family. I thought about all those afternoons by myself. Somehow things ended up working out. I found the youth group, went to college, married Daniel. Maybe it wasn’t quite accurate to 86

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say that God had rescued me from a bad situation so I could become a stayat-home mom. I had learned to be resilient growing up. God had been present at each stage of my life, helping me move forward, loving me through the hard parts. The expectations I’d placed on myself were rooted more in fear than faith. I should have remembered: One of God’s favorite messages is “Do not be afraid.” What would happen if I listened to God without fear? Eloise was born healthy. When she turned one, I enrolled her in a half-day child-care program and wrote every day. Gradually I was able to build a successful freelance career. The kids ǄĘƐĘɱǞɱşĘɂɱíşđɱŝǊɱŔĽİĘɱĉĘıíşɱƤŪɱŔŪŪőɱ more like my friend Franchesca’s— ĉƬƘǊɱíşđɱİƬŔǞɱŔŔĽşıɁ Daniel was promoted to lead pastor of a new branch of our church. At one time, I might have taken that as a sign for me to step back and do everything to ensure he succeeded. I told Daniel I was proud of him and wanted to support him. I also said, “I don’t want to feel pressured to be the perfect pastor’s wife.” “I would never expect that of you,” Daniel said. ×ĘɥƐĘɱƘƤĽŔŔɱǞɱıƬƐĽşıɱŪƬƤɱǄĸíƤɱĽƤɱŝĘíşƘɱ to balance work, family and church in a clergy household. That task is so much more straightforward now that I no longer let fear guide my thinking. It’s not the life I always thought I wanted. It’s better—the life God wants for us.

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OVERCOMING GRIEF

“Whether I live or die, I know I’ll be okay,” my best friend said. What I wondered, though, was, would I?

Our Trip to Branson By KRISTY DEWBERRY Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

seeing? Thinking? I wanted so badly to show her a good time in Branson, like so many good times we’d had over the past 30 years. We ate blackberry cobĉŔĘƐɱǄĽƤĸɱĽĊĘɱĊƐĘíŝɱíşđɱǄíİǡɱĘƘɱƤŪƍƍĘđɱ with fruit and went to a different music show every night. We played

SHEVAUN WILLIAMS

arol and I sat on the balcony of the condo we’d rented for the week in Branson, Missouri, sipping our morning coffee and watching the sunlight wash across the Ozarks. It had become our habit on this trip. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we prayed together, but often we sat in companionable silence, the way two old friends do. I thought about the four bottles of perfume Carol had bought in the gift shop the day before. They’d filled me with hope. No one buys that much perfume unless they expect to be around to enjoy it. I glanced over at her, following her gaze to the horizon. Her features were soft but indecipherable. What was she

spades in our pajamas. We laughed and we cried, then we laughed some more. And later, in my bed, I cried myself to sleep. “I had a dream last night, Kristy,” Carol said now, still looking off into the distance. “I was dancing in heav-

BEST FRIENDS FOREVER Kristy treasures this photograph from her last trip with Carol.

en. I felt so safe, so loved. Whether I live or die, I know I’ll be okay. That’s all I can be sure of.” I stood and hugged my dear friend. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

OVERCOMING GRIEF

What I thought was, Would I be okay? On the last day of our trip, Carol returned the perfume to the gift shop. I met Carol in 1984, when I was 24 and she was 38. My husband, Donald, and I were newly married. We’d fallen into a whirlwind of alcohol and clubs while dating but realized it wasn’t what we wanted for our marriage. Don had grown up in a strict Christian home but had lapsed in recent years; I could count on one hand the number of times I’d gone to church. We both knew something was missing in our marriage. Don and I needed a faith family where we could grow close to God and root our lives in biblical principles. We met Carol and her husband, Sam, at one of the churches we visited. Carol quickly took us under her wing. Don and I are naturally shy, but it was impossible not to be drawn in by Carol’s laughter and fun. Her joy. Soon we four were inseparable—dining out, attending Broadway shows, traveling. We took vacations together, including cruises to Alaska and the Bahamas, as well as road trips to Yellowstone and Mount Rushmore. Sam and Don became best friends, and Carol was like a second mother to me. My own mother struggled with mental health issues, on the path to early Alzheimer’s. I couldn’t call for motherly advice without having Mom turn the conversation to herself instead. She would cut me off so that she could talk about delusions concerning my father. “You won’t believe 90

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• June/July 2021

what your father did now...” she’d say. I’d end the conversation feeling more stressed than when I started. “Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease,” Carol would remind me. “All you can do is pray for her.” And I did, eventually. Carol had two sons. Jim was married and starting a family of his own, while Jason was still at home. Still, she was always there for me. We talked nearly every day, sometimes over a quick cup of coffee or a long lunch at our favorite restaurant. Whenever I had a question or a problem, I’d go to Carol. “I prayed for you yesterday,” she’d say, touching my hand, “and God revealed a way forward.” It wasn’t just that she was a little older than me—that helped—but she had a spiritual maturity I admired and wanted for myself. She believed in me, in my dreams, in my art, in my writing, until I could believe in myself.

hen came that day seven months before our trip to Branson. Carol hadn’t been feeling well, her joy dampened by something that worried her doctor. She went for tests. And more tests. Finally there was a diagnosis, Carol said. Late-stage cancer of the stomach. The prognosis was poor. I took in the news with disbelief. I knew what the words meant. People I knew had died of cancer. But not Carol. How could God let this happen to my best friend? The godliest of women. How could he do this to me? Carol fought. She consulted specialists, but none of them offered hope. Then, a month after Branson, she weak-

ened dramatically. Her family moved her to hospice care, where she would be comfortable and have room for visitors. It was all happening too fast. I sat beside Carol’s bed, watching her sleep. Come on, God. We’re out of options here. Time to save her. My father had outlived his terminal cancer diagşŪƘĽƘɱĉǊɱíŔŝŪƘƤɱǞɱǃĘɱǊĘíƐƘɁɱ×ĘɥđɱıŪşĘɱ on cruises, thrown birthday parties and cried with joy when he was baptized late in life. That extra time on earth had brought him closer to God and to us, his children. Why couldn’t Carol have that? Why couldn’t I? Even after our trip to Branson, even after she shared that dream, I never actually believed this day would come. I still didn’t believe it. QɱőşĘǄɱ íƐŪŔɱǄŪƬŔđɱĉĘɱǞɱşĘɁɱ¸ĸĘɱƘĘĊɘ ond she breathed her last, Carol would enter God’s embrace—if she didn’t make it to heaven, none of us had a ƘĸŪƤɁɱ ƬƤɱQɱǄŪƬŔđşɥƤɱĉĘɱǞɱşĘɁ One day fell into the next one and the next. Carol, miraculously, seemed to have no pain. She would sleep a bit, then wake, talk a while and listen. I struggled to work through my emotions, as if I would simply come to an emotional standstill once she passed. I was alone at Carol’s bedside when she stirred and, without opening her eyes, whispered, “It’s strange…how close one world is to the other.” For a long time, I watched her slow breathing, trying to draw peace from that fading rhythm. Carol died a short time later. Not long after her funeral, Jim and Jason

invited me over to pick out a few special items to remind me of Carol. I chose a pastoral painting of sheep in a meadow, which reminded me a little of the Ozarks, and a clay vase that reads, “Without faith nothing is possible, with it, nothing impossible.” The items held meaning for me– ŝĘíşĽşıɱQɱşĘĘđĘđɱƤŪɱǞɱşđɱĽşɱ íƐŪŔɥƘɱ death—not only for what the items were but that they were Carol’s. It’s been said that grief can be the most selfish emotion. The pain one feels is for one’s self, not for the departed, who has often been released from pain. I believe grief is the price we pay for love. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief, like a law of the universe. My grief was deep and deepened as the days and weeks and months passed. Yet even as I mourned the loss of my best friend, I could still feel her. I slowly moved through life again. Though she was gone, her love, her strength, lived within me. They didn’t die. They sustained me. The things she believed in, I believed in, in my writing and my art and the ever-present compassion of a loving, merciful God. Friends die, but friendships live on. I ŪİƤĘşɱƐĘŝĘŝĉĘƐɱƤĸŪƘĘɱǞɱşíŔɱǄŪƐđƘɱƘĸĘɱ spoke to me: It’s strange how close one world is to the other. I remember the quiet of that balcony in Branson, where the silence was more comforting than any words. I know Carol is dancing in heaven, dancing with God. Sometimes I can almost hear the music. For more on this story, see FAMILY ROOM G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

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what prayer can do

POWER IN OUR DAY- TO-DAY LIVES

HELP ALL ALONG “Honey, what’s wrong?” I said. yslexia. Processing disorder. ɢQɱíƘőĘđɱǊŪƬɱƤŪɱĸĘŔƍɱŝĘɱǞɱşđɱŝǊɱ Learning disability. Nothing in ƍíŎíŝíƘɂɱĉƬƤɱǊŪƬɱđĽđşɥƤɱíşƘǄĘƐɁɣ my online search matched the Nathan obviously hadn’t heard me issues my six-year-old son, Nathan, call out to him from the stairs. was having in school. When his “I called for you over and over,” he teacher had expressed concern about said. “But you didn’t help me.” his progress, I shifted into overdrive, “I’m sorry, Nathan,” I said. “I was trying to pinpoint the problem. But down in the laundry room and despite several developcouldn’t hear you. But mental tests, we still had look!” I held up the no conclusive diagnosis. đĽşŪƘíƬƐɱƍíŎíŝíƘɂɱƘƤĽŔŔɱ Nathan kept falling warm from the dryer. further behind at school. “I was helping you the My internet searches whole time!” weren’t turning up any Nathan wiped away answers. Nor were my his tears. “Thank you, daily prayers. Why aren’t Mommy,” he said. Then you helping me, God? I he grinned at me. “I thought as I switched off should have known the computer one you’d help me. Because DIANE STARK evening and picked up you always have.” Brazil, Indiana the laundry basket. Nathan’s words struck “Mommy!” Nathan a chord with me. Maybe called as I passed by his room. “I can’t my son wasn’t the only one who ǞɱşđɱŝǊɱđĽşŪƘíƬƐɱŎíŝŝĽĘƘɆɣ needed to learn a thing or two about “They’re in the dryer!” I called back trust. I stopped my internet searches to him on my way downstairs. “I’ll and spent that time helping Nathan get them for you.” with his homework instead. SomeThis, at least, was a problem I thing clicked in his brain. By the end ĊŪƬŔđɱǞɱǉɁɱQɱƬşŔŪíđĘđɱƤĸĘɱđƐǊĘƐɂɱ of the school year, he had caught up İŪŔđĽşıɱƤĸĘɱĊŔĘíşɱŔíƬşđƐǊɱĽşɱƤĸĘɲĉíƘɘ with his class. God had been helping ket as I went. I made sure to put him—and me—all along. ríƤĸíşɥƘɱİíǃŪƐĽƤĘɱđĽşŪƘíƬƐɱƍíŎíŝíƘɱ NEED PRAYER? Join the OurPrayer comon top. I carried the basket upstairs. munity! Submit your prayer requests and First stop: Nathan’s room. He was pray for others at ourprayer.org. For daily sitting on his bed, sobbing. inspiration, visit facebook.com/ourprayer.

MATTHEW GILSON

G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

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family room

MEET THE PEOPLE IN OUR PAGES

TOP: COURTESY KATIE BROWN

ou might know lifestyle expert Katie Brown (Everyday Blessings, page 34) from her PBS show, Katie Brown Workshop, and her national TV appearances. What you might not know is that she grew up with GUIDEPOSTS. “My mom would read the stories to me over the breakfast table,” she says. “The magazine ĸĘŔƍĘđɱđĘǃĘŔŪƍɱŝǊɲŝŪƐíŔɱ compass.” Now she’s thrilled to share her everyday faith stories and DIY ǃĽđĘŪƘɱǄĽƤĸɱƬƘɁɱɢ ƐíİƤĽşıɲĊĘşƤĘƐƘɱŝĘɱ by giving me an opportunity to pause and focus on just one thing,” Katie says. Her daughters love doing their own projects, such as rock painting and popsicle stick houses. Katie and her family make annual pilgrimages to Lake Michigan, where she spent summers growing up. “My husband and I love taking our daughters to my family cottage on Marquette Island, where we swim, bike, explore the woods and pick fruit,” she says. Katie’s book Dare to See: Discovering God in the Every-

BROWN Katie, husband William and daughters Meredith and Prentiss enjoy the outdoors.

dayɱĸĽıĸŔĽıĸƤƘɱĸŪǄɱƘĸĘɱǞɱşđƘɱEŪđɥƘɱ presence in life’s little moments. To ǄíƤĊĸɱdíƤĽĘɥƘɱĘǉĊŔƬƘĽǃĘɱǃĽđĘŪɂɱǞɱŔŔĘđɱ with easy crafts, go to guideposts .org/summerdiy. Award Grammy winner (The Most Williams

Michelle

Powerful Words, page 42) opens up about her depression battle in her new book, Checking In: How Getting Real About Depression Saved My Life—and Can Save Yours. The book reveals the impact of her faith, family and friends on G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

FAMILY ROOM

ɲɲɲ “

omeday you’re going to write for GUIDEPOSTS.” That’s what Kristy Dewberry’s (Our Trip to Branson, page 88) best friend, Carol, wrote in a letter a few years before she passed away. Weeks after Carol’s funeral, Kristy received the magazine in the mail. íƐŪŔɥƘɱǞɱşíŔɱıĽİƤɱǄíƘɱíɱƤǄŪɘǊĘíƐɱƘƬĉɘ scription. “It was her not-so-subtle reminder of the writing path she saw for me,” Kristy says. In 2019, Kristy attended a writing conference in Oklahoma City. She didn’t realize there would be a session with GUIDEPOSTS editor Jim Hinch. “I laughed at the thought that Carol was still pulling strings, even from heaven,” she says. An idea Kristy pitched, about caring İŪƐɱíɱđĽİǞɱĊƬŔƤɱƍíƐĘşƤɂɱĉĘĊíŝĘɱĸĘƐɱǞɱƐƘƤɱ GUIDEPOSTS story, published that year. Since then, Kristy has written many pieces for GUIDEPOSTS, guideposts.org and Strength & Grace, our devotional 96

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

LAWRENCE Wendy was the first female U.S. Naval Academy graduate to fly in space.

magazine for caregivers. She’s also one of our 2020 Writers Workshop Contest winners. “I’m grateful to Carol for the heavenly signs she’s been sending me,” Kristy says. stronaut (To A the Stars, page 48), whose main ĽşǡɱƬĘşĊĘɱǄíƘɱĸĘƐɱİíƤĸĘƐɂɱ¿Ɂ«ɁɱríǃǊɱ Wendy Lawrence

Vice Adm. William Lawrence, served ŪşɱİŪƬƐɱƘƍíĊĘɱƘĸƬƤƤŔĘɱǡɱĽıĸƤƘɱíşđɱ logged more than 1,225 hours in space during her NASA career. Now she wants to inspire the younger generation to dream big. A public speaker on living and working in space as well as team-building and mission accomplishment, she’s passionate about encouraging students to “dare to dream,” especially in STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics). Her message to younger generations?

NASA

her healing as well as her mission to encourage others to “check in” with ƤĸĘŝƘĘŔǃĘƘɱđƬƐĽşıɱđĽİǞɱĊƬŔƤɱƤĽŝĘƘɁɱɢQɱ want readers to feel me smiling and know that I’m here,” says the former Destiny’s Child singer. “I made it, and so can you.” On her podcast, Checking In With Michelle Williams, she talks to friends and celebrities about their mental health journeys and shares advice. “If it crosses your mind to reach out to someone to check in, don’t hesitate,” she says. “Just do it.” Find out more about Michelle and her book on her Instagram @michellewilliams.

“You can’t make your dream come true if you tell yourself it won’t happen,” Wendy says. “Have the courage to dream your dream. Then strive to make it come true by getting a good education and working hard every day to be the best you can be.” For more information, visit astronaut wendylawrence.com.

usan Minegar Luna’s (Fairy

Gardens, page 60) mini streetside vignettes allowed her to get to know her Santa Ana, California, community better. “I’ve seen people

hen (Not Like Me, W page 68) started her memoir, Stumbling Home: Life Before and After

TOP: DAN MACMEDAN

Carol Weis

That Last Drink, she planned to focus on the fun stories she told at family reunions. Her daughter, Maggie, had always pushed Carol to write them down. Carol had no intention of depicting her alcohol addiction and recovery journey. But she felt guided in that direction. “I hope those who are concerned about the amount of alcohol they or a loved one conƘƬŝĘƘɱǞɱşđɱƤĸĘɱĊŪƬƐíıĘɱƤŪɱĊĸíşıĘɱ after reading my memoir,” she says. píııĽĘɱǄíƘɱŎƬƘƤɱǞɱǃĘɱǄĸĘşɱ íƐŪŔɱ got sober; 31 years later, the two are best friends. “We love trail hiking together and enjoying the natural beauty each season brings,” Carol says. Find out more about Carol and how to order her memoir by visiting carol weis.com.

LUNA Susan with her grandson Zachary and great-granddaughter Stella at a fairy garden

coming up and down our street to view our gardens,” she says. Neighbors contribute to the gardens too. A school facilities engineer gave her art projects that had been left behind by students. Susan used them to create a tiki-themed fairy garden. She spends about seven hours a week working on the gardens along her street, now referred to as Fairy fíşĘɁɱ¸ĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƘƤĘƍɱĽşɱĊƐĘíƤĽşıɱíɱİíĽƐǊɱ garden? “Get the six-inch door for the base of your tree,” Susan says. They’re available online and at craft stores. Then get creative. For Susan’s step-by-step instructions, go to guideposts.org/fairygarden. G U I D E P O S T S .O R G

continued

HOW A STORY MADE A DIFFERENCE

YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND I made a friend through GUIDEPOSTS! The April 2005 Up Side featured a cartoon by artist Cuyler Black. I loved the cartoon and wanted to see more of Cuyler’s work, which you described as “the Bible meets The Far Side.” I enjoy art that lets people of faith express the fun and joy God brings to our lives. I contacted Cuyler via his website and bought some of his greeting cards. He started a blog, ǄĸĽĊĸɱQɱƘƤĽŔŔɲİŪŔɘ low. His posts provide food for thought. We stay in touch over e-mail. I’ve gotten to know íşđɲíƍƍƐĘĊĽíƤĘɱ Cuyler’s humble attitude toward his gifts for cartooning and writing. I value his quirky personality and the chance to laugh without being disrespectful to others. My friendship with Cuyler has shown me that ǄĸĘşɱEŪđɲĊŪşşĘĊƤƘɱĸĽƘɱĊĸĽŔđƐĘşɂɱĘǃĘşɱ in small ways, there’s a big impact. CHRISTEL SPRINGMIRE Sycamore, Illinois

TOGETHER WHEN APART Last year, I spent Christmas alone— İŪƐɱƤĸĘɱǞɱƐƘƤɱƤĽŝĘɱĽşɱŝǊɱǵǱɱǊĘíƐƘɛƤŪɱ protect myself and loved ones from 98

GUIDEPOSTS

• June/July 2021

Covid-19. During my devotional time on Christmas morning, I read the December/ January 2021 issue of GUIDEPOSTS, which included Sam Sifton’s article, Faith in Food. I followed his tips on adapting long-standing traditions to help make the unusual holiday season joyous. I decked the halls (my retirement community suite) with a small, decorated tree, electric candles and a lighted manger scene. I “set the table with intention” using special china, silverware and battery-operated candles and enjoyed a delicious dinner. Most important, I counted my blessings. I’m grateful for remaining free of the virus, recovering from unexpected surgery and being able to connect with my community and loved ones virtually. God has blessed me beyond what I could ask or imagine. Thank you, Sam, for your suggestions. I can still make physically distanced celebrations meaningful. MARILYN D. HARRIS Warminster, Pennsylvania

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