Page 106 – Guideposts Articles

Turning to God Helped Her Kick Her Gambling and Drug Addictions

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Melissa L. Dale

The Prairie Meadows Casino in Altoona, Iowa, has more than 1,700 slot machines. The machines are in an 85,000-plus-square-foot gambling hall that looks and sounds like something out of Vegas. The action is 24 hours a day. No matter when you go, you’ll find people hunched in front of screens, punching buttons with a hungry look in their eyes.

I used to be one of those people. The first time I went to Prairie Meadows, I was young and carefree, out for a good time with my husband and some friends. The last time I went, I was a forty-something gambling and methamphetamine addict, who sold drugs to support my addictions. I’d lost jobs and mortgaged my house and my father-in-law’s house to pay gambling and drug debts. I’d been arrested for dealing and had thoughts about killing myself. Now I was on probation and my driver’s license had been suspended.

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Late one night, I was running low on meth. I drove to the edge of the city where one of my dealers lived.

I was on an unlit back road, driven by the same bottomless need I always felt. The need for more drugs, more money, more something to fill the emptiness.

Tonight I felt a new need. I wanted out of this dead-end life. To be clean. Free from those hypnotizing slots and the financial chaos they caused. Free from debt, addiction, crime and shame.

Out of nowhere, I spoke a prayer into the night sky. “God, I can’t go on like this. I need help.”

I was not a praying woman. Why should I be? My mom was an alcoholic when I was kid, then died of emphysema soon after she sobered up. My dad left our family when I was four. I reconnected with him as an adult, and we grew close. Then he died of cancer. I loved my husband, but drugs became a bigger priority for him than I was.

Everything and everyone I cared about got taken away. No reason for God to start listening to my prayers now.

Headlights appeared on the road ahead. Some instinct warned me it could be a cop. Sure enough, a sheriff’s patrol car came into view.

Now I was praying it would pass me by. Meth makes you paranoid. The half gram of meth in my car might as well have flashed a beacon out the window.

The sheriff’s car rolled past. Just play it cool, I told myself. Keep driving. I looked in the mirror. Brake lights came on. The sheriff slowed, turned around and began following me. He sped up. He’d be on my bumper any minute. How did I sink so low? When I was a kid, I swore I’d never drink or do drugs. I wanted to be like my mom—when she was sober. Mom was a hard worker who’d served in the Korean War. She had a small gold cross necklace, a catechism gift. She loved that necklace. I think she fell into drinking with my dad, who was in the Army National Guard.

She always had a job, and we were never destitute. But I used to find her passed out. And alcohol fueled bad choices, such as cheating on my dad. It’s my dad’s name on my birth certificate, but Mom later told me he might not have been my biological father. She didn’t tell me who the other man was, and I never asked.

Dad cheated too. When they divorced, Mom told him he wasn’t my father. He broke off contact with me, even though he kept in touch with my siblings. The pain of rejection was unbearable.

Despite my vow not to become an alcoholic, I partied a lot in high school, especially with friends I met on a stock car pit crew. I’m a gearhead, and pretty soon I was drawn to a crew member whose marriage was heading toward divorce. We began dating after the divorce went through.

My first gram of cocaine was a graduation gift from my boyfriend. We married and fell into a life of working hard and partying harder.

We went to Prairie Meadows soon after it opened in 1989. It was a horse racetrack then, but later the county—which owns the facility—got permission from the state to install slot machines.

I was intoxicated by those slots. The gambling hall sucked me in with lights and music and seemingly endless rows of blinking, pinging machines. People shrieked when they hit the jackpot. I lived for that moment. What if?

When does partying and playing the slots turn into addiction? One day I woke up and realized I cared about only two things: getting high and returning to the casino, so I could win back everything I’d lost the night before.

I graduated from coke to meth—cheaper and easier to get—but gambling was a beast all its own. Gambling makes you think you’re a spin away from solving all your problems. Early in my gambling days, I put in my last five dollars and out came 200 bucks. That memory alone cost me thousands of dollars in failed attempts to do it again.

Another time, my husband and I had a lucky run and netted $23,000, which we used to pay off massive credit card debt. Then we went back and lost that much and a whole lot more.

My work performance suffered, and eventually I quit. We mortgaged our house, then my father-in-law’s house. I cashed in my retirement and even gave up my beloved white Camaro Z28 to pay off a drug debt.

I needed money and drugs, so I started dealing. I cheated on my husband with a guy who sold meth for a network of dealers. I became a low-level dealer and promptly got arrested for selling to a state narcotics agent.

It was my first violation. I got off with just probation.

I went right back to dealing. What else could I do? For so many years, I’d felt rejected and battered by life. Drugs and gambling numbed my pain and kept me functioning. The slots especially gave me a momentary hit of euphoria and the illusion of control.

You can’t stay numb forever. Especially not when a sheriff’s deputy spots you driving late at night on an unlit back road.

I turned into a convenience store parking lot, hoping the sheriff would keep going. He turned into the parking lot too, then followed me when I left and turned on his flashing lights.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car,” he said. He’d run my license plate and seen I was on probation with a suspended license. It didn’t take him long to find the meth I’d hidden under the gear shifter. I was arrested.

This was my answer to prayer?

My lawyer persuaded the judge to place me in an in-jail drug treatment program. I spent the first three days on suicide watch and the next two weeks detoxing, practically out of my mind. We were allowed to go to a Bible study. I would go anywhere to get out of my cell, so I went and began reading a Gideon Bible with a gold cover.

I hadn’t read the Bible much before. I can’t say I understood a lot at first. I just liked the way it made me feel. As if there was something large and good out there that cared about me.

After detoxing, I had to pass an evaluation to be admitted to the drug treatment program. I fell to my knees the night before the evaluation. Alone in my dark cell, I raised my hands to a God I barely knew and asked him to take control of my life. I had no idea what would happen. Anything would be better than where I’d come from.

The first thing I noticed when the evaluator walked in was his necklace. It had a small gold cross, exactly like my mom’s. He sat in front of a window. The sunlight made it hard to see his face. All I saw was the cross.

That was the moment I knew I would be okay. I knew God was real and had a plan for me that did not include getting high or gambling. I passed the evaluation, completed the treatment program and was released from jail five months later.

I wish I could say healing from addiction, especially gambling addiction, is as easy as completing a treatment program. I struggled for months after getting out of jail, especially since my husband refused treatment and continued using. Eventually we divorced.

My sister invited me to her Lutheran church, and I joined something called an Alpha course, designed to introduce people to Christianity. The more I learned about God, the more God I wanted. Without God, I was powerless over my addictions.

There were so many times I could have relapsed, especially after creditors started hounding me. At one point, I all but decided to give up and get high with my husband.

Something told me to go to church instead, where my Alpha group was holding a retreat. When I got there, a woman from the group ran out of the sanctuary, shouting, “Melissa! You’re here! We were just praying for you a few minutes ago. We knew you’ve been struggling, and we prayed you’d be safe and find your way back. Here you are!”

I’m still there. Today I work as a full-time minister at Lutheran Church of Hope in West Des Moines, leading the Celebrate Recovery program. I tell my story—even in testimony to the Iowa state legislature years ago, when the state debated allowing slot machines in grocery stores—in hopes that others can avoid the addictions that nearly killed me.

I still struggle with thoughts of gambling. It’s everywhere these days, and I’m often tempted to buy a lottery ticket or slip a few dollars into a slot machine. What could it hurt? It’s legal!

I have to remind myself there’s only one sure bet in this life. God is always there, always true. Knowing that, I don’t have to gamble on anything.

True Friends

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Brock Hibbs

I have a seizure disorder, ADHD and a hearing impairment—all of which made me a prime target for bullies.

Kids loved to make fun of me. Finally my mom had enough, and enrolled me in a new school, Peaster Independent, Peaster, Texas, in eighth grade.

That first day at Peaster, I was nervous. Scared. I walked into homeroom and stood in the back. Suddenly two guys walked up. Here it comes, I thought.

“Hi, my name’s Jon,” one of the boys said. “I’m Tommie,” said the other. Soon we were talking about sports, favorite subjects in school, even girls.

Jon and Tommie stuck by me over the years. They supported me when I joined the prom committee, asked me to be the manager for our high school baseball team, even helped me meet the girl I liked.

“You can do anything you want,” Jon would say.

He was right. I overcame the odds, graduating from Peaster High in 1998. Now I’m in my last semester of college, pursuing a degree in early childhood education.

I hope to pass the courage my two best friends gave me to kids who have struggles like mine. I want them to know they too can succeed.

Trouble Reaching Your Goals? Try ‘Lighthouse Planning’

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Holly Lebowitz Rossi

Setting goals is an important part of staying motivated, focused and excited about the future. Having goals, and feeling consistent progress toward those goals, is part of walking a positive path.

Some goals are linear, with easily-measured steps to check off along the way. If my goal is to knit five blankets this year, or to go to the gym twice each week for six months, or to make a homemade dinner every Sunday, I can make a plan that will get me there. I’ll create list of supplies to purchase, I’ll set aside time in my calendar, and I’ll feel gratified by my progress each time I cast off my knitting, shower after a workout, or sit down to a tasty dinner.

But not all goals are quite so clean (and, lest anyone be feeling guilty about struggling with a goal, not all “clean” goals are easy!).

For the bigger, messier, less tangible goals of life, I love the idea of “lighthouse planning.” In this technique, which is often used by life coaches and entrepreneurs, we reach a goal by imagining it as a lighthouse in the distance. It’s dark as we get in our boats—we don’t know exactly how we’re going to get to that luminous destination. But our lighthouse never stops flashing along the horizon, it never is entirely out of sight. So we climb aboard, and we start rowing in the direction of the light.

Identify Your Lighthouse

A lighthouse-like goal is something broader than a specific project. Instead of aiming to make a particular craft, for example, you might set your goal as, “I want to be more creative.” Identifying your lighthouse is a way to launch your journey with purpose. From there, you can take your time navigating the waters between you and your destination.

Redirect When Necessary

The good news about a journey toward a lighthouse is that there are myriad ways to get there. Remember, in this metaphor, you’re on the water, not constrained by roads on a map. If you look around and realize that your lighthouse is getting farther away rather than closer, re-set, re-direct and re-launch. You can embrace the idea that even the “wrong way” is part of the experience of pursuing your goal.

Don’t Tire Yourself Out

If you’ve ever rowed a boat, you know that there are many variables involved. A headwind, a shifting tide or a passing storm can make the waters harder to traverse. Feeling tired, distracted or upset can drain the power from your arms and shoulders. Try to take each stroke of your paddle as it comes. Make small strokes. Take your time. Focus on getting to the next spot on the horizon, not on powering through all the way to the end. A moderate pace will leave you feeling accomplished during the journey, not only at your destination.

What is your lighthouse? What can you do today to draw yourself closer to it?

Tribute to a Positive Thinker

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Dr. Arthur Caliandro

Fifth Avenue, lined with churches, museums and skyscrapers, runs down the spine of Manhattan. Marking the way are some historic statues, from a bronze William Seward in Madison Square Park to General Sherman astride his golden horse at 59 Street. To add to this impressive lineup, we celebrated the hundredth anniversary of Norman Vincent Peale’s birth on May 31, 1998, by erecting a statue of him outside the Fifth Avenue church where he pastored for 52 years.

When he first came to Marble Collegiate in 1932, the city was in the throes of the Great Depression, and the sanctuary was never full. Dr. Peale brought a vision of hope to the city and church, and soon the sidewalk was crowded with people waiting to get inside. Later he became minister to millions on radio and TV, but he never lost that empathy for the people, rich and poor, who came to hear him. I remember him telling me, “Everybody who walks through that door is broken by some sort of pain or sorrow. It is for me to remind them of God’s gifts.”

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For 18 years I worked with Dr. Peale on the staff at the church. I enjoyed watching him treat the big city as though it were an Ohio boy’s hometown. He loved taking taxis (cab drivers were often the sources of his best anecdotes) and I don’t think he ever missed a Rotary meeting at the old Roosevelt Hotel when he was in town. He relished being in the ecumenical hub of things, rubbing shoulders with business, political and religious leaders. In 1969, when he invited Bishop Fulton Sheen to speak from Marble’s pulpit, I think it was the first time he had ever spoken at a Protestant church.

“When we meet our Maker,” Peale often used to say, “I think we’re going to have to answer one big question: ‘What did you do with what you were given?’”

Without a doubt, Dr. Peale did the utmost with his gifts, both large and small. I was always touched by his sensitivity to people. Once he apologized to me four times in a day—four separate telephone calls—for a hurt that had been entirely unintentional. When a group of ministers asked him what the most important thing a pastor could do for his congregation was, he stated unequivocably, “Love them, love them, love them.”

That, I think, was the key to his success. He learned to love all the people he dealt with. And so, unlike General Sherman on his horse or William Seward on his bronze pedestal, the statue of Dr. Peale is at street level, on equal footing with the crowds that pass by on Fifth Avenue. There he will stand for the ages, the humblest of men, preaching the Good News.

A Conversation with Trent Shelton

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Brett Leveridge

Trent Shelton Finds New Purpose Off the Field
I’m Trent Shelton, founder of Rehab Time, author of a bestselling book, The Greatest You. I’m a former NFL player. Spent three years in the NFL. But I hit my lowest point in that process by getting cut and released. But at my rock bottom, I found my purpose, which is Rehab Time.

Rehab stands for Renewing Every Heart And Body. My whole entire identity, since I can remember, was sports. We moved to Texas when I was in seventh grade. And Texas is, like, football is everything. I ended up getting a scholarship in football to Baylor University.

I was down there for five years, and my career was great. Ended up getting a call from the Indianapolis Colts as a high-priority free agent. Got to Indy, and I had an outstanding preseason—I mean, one of the best in the NFL that year amongst rookies. Three weeks into me living in Indy, I get a call from the Colts again, and they cut me.

So at that point, that was my first taste of “OK, this is a business.” And so I drive from Indy to Texas, which is a long drive. 13, 14 hour-drive after you get cut, and I’m thinking, “What am I going to do with my life? Everybody knows me. If I’m here, that means I got cut.”

So I stayed inside my mom’s house—depressed, stressed, all these things, but still smiling for the cameras, I like to say. But dying behind the scenes, telling people, “I’m all right. I’m good.” But I wasn’t good at all.

Two weeks—maybe a week or two later, I get a call back from Indy. They want me back. So I go back up there.

And to make a long story short, that was my NFL career for three years. I would be here, I would be there. I would be in a new city. And in that process, I had the birth of my son, Tristan.

And me and Maria—at the time, we weren’t together, so it definitely wasn’t planned. And that hit me, like, “Man, what am I going to do with my life? I’m getting cut, I’m getting released. I don’t have any job security. My life is all over the place, and I have a son on the way. What am I going to do?”

And instead of going back to the foundation that I had that my parents gave me, which was faith, and going back to God, I ran farther away from God, and I ran to the things in the world—clubs. I’m around celebrities now. Let me just—let me just pop pills, drink alcohol, smoke weed. Let me do all these things, just to get my mind off of it.

And it gave me a temporary high. It gave me a temporary escape. But once those things wore off, I was back dealing with my reality. And you can fool perception, but you can’t fool reality.

The main thing, I guess, that really triggered my change was in 2008, when Tristan was born. And when I held Tristan for the first time, I remember—not telling him in an audible voice, but just in my mind—“I don’t want you to grow up to be like me, especially right now. Like, I don’t want this life for you.” And that hurt me when I said that.

As a parent, your choices will become your children’s consequences. And for me, I was like, “Nah, I have to change.” So Tristan was a start for me becoming a better man.

I was with the Seattle Seahawks, and I got released after the season with Seattle. But I was on the road. I like to call it the Rehab Road. I was living Rehab-ish, meaning that I was changing, but I was still one foot in, one foot out.

I was laying down, looking around my room, looking at trophies and pictures of my son. I knew football wasn’t going to be it for me. Even though I still had time to prove myself, I wasn’t confident enough.

So I asked God, like, “Is this going to be it?” And I started crying. And something came over me. And I said, it’s Rehab time. I literally started it for myself.

And I said, I’m going to put this strength back into a weakness. People who hear rehab, they think drugs, alcohol. Rehab, for me, is this. We all have something in our life that we can rehab—mind, body, and soul.

So I said, what can I control? Because so many times in life when we’re trying to change things, we think about all the things we can’t control, right? And so I said, what can I control? Well, I can control my fitness. I can control my spiritual walk. I can control my mindset.

I started working out. I started getting into my Word. I started reading books. I started writing. And in that moment, that was my journey that started Rehab Time.

It’s so funny how God will still use what you care about. Because I had one more shot at the NFL. The NFL stands for Not For Long, by the way. So you have three years, pretty much, to prove yourself. And so I had one more shot with the Washington Redskins.

And in 2009, I signed with the Redskins. And same thing, I get cut and released. But I’m in a better mindset now. Like, I know now there’s something bigger than just football for my life.

And that’s what started Rehab time. That’s what I want to do, whether it be from a spiritual level, fitness level, just a holistic change—I want to be able to impact lives.

But I knew that started with myself. That’s why I always say it all starts with you.

So I wrote a book, and it’s called The Greatest You. I really want people that pick up this book to turn their pain into their power. And if you’re a person that’s watching this and saying, “Well, I don’t have any pain” —you have pain.

But if you’re a person that’s saying that, there’s always a next level to your life. And that greatest you is not anything external. And that’s the whole part of this book. It’s not like the world has the greatest you. It’s not like you have to become something. A lot of this book is about unbecoming and realizing the greatest you is inside you.

How Trent Shelton Transformed His Breakdown Into a Breakthrough
I’m Trent Shelton, founder of RehabTime, author of the bestselling book, The Greatest You. I’m a former NFL player. Spent three years in NFL, but I hit my lowest point in that process by getting cut and released. But at my rock bottom, I found my purpose, which is RehabTime.

The foundation of strength is pain. Like, there’s no way in the world you can get stronger without going through pain. I mean, physically. Like, you go outside, like, there’s no way you can become in better shape without breaking down. And so I let people know, like, right after your breakdown, is your breakthrough. I thought, when football was over, that was my final destination.

But football was just a vehicle, was just a chapter in my life. So people say, “Trent, you’re a expert because…” I’m not an expert because I went to school. I’m an expert because I’ve been through life.

And so I’ve been through struggle, I’ve been through heartbreak, I’ve been through losses, I’ve been through losing my faith. And when you own that—when you say, you know what? I’m going to own this about me.

The greatest thing I feel, like, personally, a person can do, is take responsibility over their life. Is to point the thumb at themselves and say, you know what? It’s on me. Because we live life, most times—I know I did for a long period of time—like this: Pointing the finger at everybody else. Blaming God, blaming their relationship, blaming their job, blaming their boss. And even though maybe someone hurt you, or someone gave you pain—the pain might not be your fault, but the healing is your responsibility.

Somebody might have brought you to where you’re at today. But guess what? At the end of the day, you can choose to stay there, or you can do something about your life. And so, pain produces growth. Struggle produces strength.

Even when I go through things now that I don’t like, I’m like, “OK, this is power, because I’m going to learn something from this.” And it’s like if I gave you a map, right? And I said, “Look, I never hiked this trail before, and I made this map for you, and I gave it to you.” You would look at me like I was crazy.

You’re, like, “I’m not about to listen to this guy.” But if I say, “Listen, I hiked this trail multiple times before. Here’s a map. Trust me, it’ll get you to where you’re going.” And I feel like you’ll be like, “Yeah, OK, cool.”

I feel like that’s the same thing with life. What you go through has qualified you to help other people get through it. And so, like, now, you can be like, “Listen, I’ve been there.”

I understand you. Trust me. You can get through this. I’ve been through it. And your pain qualifies you.

Trent Shelton on the Power of Prayer in His Life
Ty’Ann Brown: Hi, Guideposts. I’m Ty’Ann. I’m here with the amazing Trent Shelton, here to talk about faith in prayer.

How were you able to implement faith when you knew you had to build yourself up, but everything looked downhill?

Trent Shelton: I learned having a gardener’s mindset. That’s what I feel like what faith is. And I learned this from my grandfather. I would go to Arkansas, and he would plant, like, plants and stuff like that, or he would plant crops.

I was probably four or five years old. And we would go out there. We would plant it. And two hours later, I’d be, like, “Hey, Grandpa, like, where’s the crop at? Like, it hasn’t grown.” And he’s, like, “You know, Trent, just be patient. And I would bug him, like, every other hour.

He said, “When you have faith, you have to know something is taking place, even when you can’t see it.” And so I always keep that in my mind. I know if I do the right things, I know if I, you know, eat the right foods, I know if I exercise, I know if I feed my mind, body, and my soul, that eventually, that harvest will take place.

I knew, and I have to know, growth is taking place, even when I can’t see it.

Ty’Ann: In your book, you talk about Jeremiah 29:11.

Trent: Yeah. When I made it to the NFL, my mom gave me this book. It was, like, a football cover. and it said, “NFL.” And it had “New Found Life.” And she wrote on the cover, Jeremiah 29:11.

When I was going through that hard time, I opened that book, and I read that. I read the scripture. And I realized God has a plan for me, right? Not to fail me, to prosper me. I might not understand it. I might not get it. It might be hard. I might have to go through a place that I don’t understand just to bring me to the place where he needs me to be. But I trust on that.

And what’s funny is that the NFL, a New Found Life, wasn’t the NFL. It was Rehab Time for me. So I don’t know. It was just super surreal.

Ty’Ann: That’s awesome. So you go from “Not For Long” to “New Found Life.”

Trent: “New Found Life.” There you go.

Ty’Ann: Through the word of God.

Trent: Yep.

Ty’Ann: I love it.

Prayer has to be really prominent in the life of someone like yourself, with all that you’ve been through.

Trent: The realer prayer for me is, like, a conversation with God. But growing up, you know, I always thought that it had to be a set time, and it had to be a certain prayer. And I felt like my prayers were, like, programmed. I felt like I was saying the same things, which nothing wrong with that.

But I say, you know what? I want to be real with God. Like, I want to have a real conversation. Like, God knows me anyway. And so my best prayer life is when I’m out in nature. I feel like nature is, like, God’s natural medicine for the soul.

I always wonder why Jesus would go up to the mountains. When I go to a mountain hike, I just love it. I just feel so connected to God. It’s not the only time I pray, obviously.

But when I’m going through something hard, tough, or I’m going through stress, I will go out on these trails, and I always say, nothing exists outside these trails—no worries, no doubts. And I just feel that peace that surpasses all understanding. That’s what I call protecting my peace, and I do it very often.

Ty’Ann: Was there a specific time where you can recall prayer really helping you in a specific moment?

Trent: So just with speaking. Like, as we know, speaking is the no. 1 fear. Like, people would rather die than speak, right? I always say they would rather, like, be in the casket than give the eulogy.

When I’m always backstage, I think about this. I’m being selfish if I’m thinking about being perfect. Because there’s no way you can serve, right, by being selfish.

And so when I’m back there, I always say, “God, help me not focus on me being perfect. Help me not focus on how I look. Help me focus on giving your message to the world.”

And my thing is God using me. Like, sometimes, it’s just like that—“God, just use me in the way you want to use me. Whenever that looks like, I’m open to it. I’m going to follow you.” And He uses me in the way He wants to.

Ty’Ann: What is the most important thing you would say for someone to remember while they’re praying?

Trent: Believe. Like, believe when you pray. I know for a lot of my life, I’ve prayed these victorious prayers. But I don’t know if I believed it.

When you truly show God that you trust Him and say, like, “I believe in you. I don’t care how impossible. I don’t care how much rejection. I don’t care how many setbacks I’ve had in my life, how many people have walked out of my life and told me no. I believe that you got me. And I feel like that activates the power of God in your life.”

I’m going to believe what I pray in, and I’m going to walk it out, those ordered steps, until, you know, that harvest come into my life.

Ty’ann: But you talk about belief being an important component of praying.

Trent: Yeah.

Ty’Ann: How do you encourage someone who prayed a prayer, but it seems that the prayers have gone unanswered?

Trent: I don’t really believe in unanswered prayers. I believe that prayers aren’t unanswered, because—in your way, but maybe God is answering another prayer. And a lot of times, say, it might be, God, I’m praying for this job.

But one prayer that pretty much we all pray is prayer for protection. So God—maybe He answers your prayer for protection. Maybe that job was going to cause you to be stressed out. Maybe—you know, whatever it may be.

So the prayer for protection has always been answered. So know if God doesn’t answer your prayers in your way, He has something bigger and better for you.

How Trent Shelton Uses Social Media to Inspire Others
I’m Trent Shelton, founder of Rehab Time, author of the bestselling book, The Greatest You. I’m a former NFL player, spent three years in the NFL, but I hit my lowest point in that process by getting cut and released. But at my rock bottom, I found my purpose, which is REHAB Time.

Rehab stands for Renewing Every Heart And Body. I want to break it down so people can understand. My definition is always just putting the strength back into a weakness. But I was, like, I want something that people can gravitate to, whether it be from a spiritual level, a fitness level, just a holistic change. I want to be able to impact lives, but I knew that started with myself. That’s why I always say, it all starts with you.

The video thing, I’ve got to give kind of a backstory. I love to rap. I love music. I was making videos, like rap videos. I would be on Twitter. And I would still have motivational spiritual stuff. But, like I said, I was one foot in, one foot out.

The main catalyst for me like really being committed to Rehab Time was my college roommate committing suicide. And me going to Anthony’s service made it really real for me that life is not guaranteed.

And with him committing suicide, like, it literally broke my heart because he lost something. So even when people watch my videos, they say, “Trent, you talk a lot about removal,” or, “You talk a lot about losses,” and that’s the reason. Because I made a promise to Anthony that if anybody in the world ever feels, like, “My life is over because I lost this”—I felt like that because I lost football or some people feel like that because they lost a relationship and they lose their relationship with God because they lose their relationship with a human being—I want to be that voice for people to say, “You know what, no matter what you lose, who you lose, your life can still carry on and your life can get better.” So that was my reason, right, that really made Rehab Time real for me.

I wasn’t getting booked to speak, once I realized that I was a speaker. Many people weren’t watching my videos at that time. So I say, “I’m just going to share my journey. I’m going to be transparent about my life.”

So the beginning videos, it was a lot of me talking to myself. It was my accountability. Because my thing was, if I’m going to put it out here, I have to live it. And I picked up my iPhone—I didn’t have expensive cameras, I didn’t have production or lighting—and I made two-minute videos.

As I was making these videos, they were impacting lives. I always said impact over numbers. But it took me walking into my biggest fear, which was speaking on a stage, that really, I guess, gave birth to the videos.

And it was at Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship, a good friend of mine, he asked me, “Trent, I want you to speak at my event.” And I tried my best to get out of it because I’m, like, I’m not a speaker. Like, “Nah, I can rap. You know, I can make it clean. Let me do that.”

And he was, like, “Nah.” He’s like, “I see something inside of you that you don’t see in yourself. Like, you have a gift, I’m telling you.” And I was, like, “I’m not trying to hear that. Like, if you see anything, see me getting signed back to a football team, you know?”

I ended up doing it. What seemed like five hours was five minutes. And I literally forgot everything I prepared once I got on the stage, and I just said, “God, use me.” And God flowed through me, and those kids were locked in.

The next day, I had to report to New Orleans for Arena Football because I was still hanging on to football because that’s where my identity was. And I called the coach when I got offstage, and I said, “I’m not coming.”

And I want people to understand this, like, [there weren’t] many people watching videos. I wasn’t the person that you guys know of me today. But I stepped out on faith and I said, “This is what I was created to do.”

Because there was a certain amount of certainty I felt on that stage, in the midst of fear, confusion, so I knew it was God. But I knew I had to let go of what I was holding on to. And when I let go, three, four months later, the videos started to go viral, and my life changed forever.

So why do people enjoy my videos? I ask people that question a lot. And I think it’s—the thing that I get is, “Trent, you’re transparent. You’re real. You’re not afraid to talk about things that people go through.”

And a lot of people say, “I feel like you know my life.” And it’s not that I know your life. I know my own struggles, and I’m not afraid to talk about my own struggles. It’s my transparency in my own life.

And I say, “Look, I dealt with depression. I still deal with it, at times. I go through things,” and I think that’s why people relate to it so much.

But to see people not commit suicide, to see people break away from toxic things, to see people rekindle a relationship because of a video, every single day, there’s somebody that’s like, “You know, I watched your video and it helped change my life.”

And I always tell people this, like, “I didn’t change your life. Like, I’m just a vessel. God used me. God changed your life. You made the decision to actually take the information and apply it to your life.”

I try not to understand it, if that makes sense. I just try to live in the calling that God has for me.

Trent Shelton: How Failure Inspired Him to Find a New Purpose

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Trent Shelton

I sat on the bed in my old room in my parents’ house in Fort Worth, looking at the pictures on the walls, the trophies lining the shelves. Football. It had always been about football. In high school, in college at Baylor, where I’d been a star wide receiver, dreaming of making it big in the NFL. Now those plaques and trophies seemed to taunt me: “You’re a failure. You’re a loser.”

As seen in the August 2019 issue
of Guideposts magazine

I didn’t get picked in the NFL draft. So I’d started out as an undrafted free agent with the Indianapolis Colts. They were fresh off a Super Bowl title—this was 2007. I figured I’d be there to help them get another ring. Peyton Manning and I would be making big plays all over the field. Big plays.

Inspiration from the Garden in article ad

In training camp, I turned heads, balling out. I’m gonna make this team, I told myself. Yet the Colts didn’t play me. “They’re just trying to hide you,” veteran players said. “Keep other teams from signing you.” The Colts cut me instead. I was re-signed to the practice squad, then got cut from that.

That was the first time I holed up in my bedroom. I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I felt humiliated. Since I was a kid, I’d talked about being a star in the NFL. What was I going to say now?

A week later, the Colts called me back to the practice squad. A second chance! Coach Tony Dungy talked about putting me in a Monday night game. Then something went wrong with my knee. I tried to suck it up and play through it. Coach saw me limping and told me there was no way I could be activated if I wasn’t able to go full speed. That was it with the Colts. The next season, the Seattle Seahawks invited me to minicamp. They cut me at the end of the preseason. A week later, they called and said they wanted me to come back. I packed my stuff, rushed to the airport, all ready to board the plane. My phone rang. Seattle again. They’d changed their minds. Another receiver had become available, someone who “fit into their plans” better. Someone better than me.

I got another shot, with the Washington Redskins. I ran my fastest time in the 40-yard dash: 4.3 seconds. Elite speed. The Redskins signed me to the practice squad, but I never played a game. By November, I was—you guessed it—cut.

I still wasn’t ready to face the truth. I tried Arena Football—where the smaller fields of turf laid over concrete were brutal on my body. Then I signed up to play for the United Football League, right before it went belly-up. I went into a spiral: smoking, drinking, partying. I got a woman pregnant. I might have been the son of a preacher, but I wasn’t acting like it.

Around that time, my college roommate Anthony Arline took his life. A Baylor football star like me, he’d also had a short-lived NFL career. Like me, he’d gone into a tailspin when his football dreams ran up against reality.

Was that my fate? Retreating to my old bedroom this time felt like the bitter end of everything. I turned away from the photos of me snagging a touchdown, all the trophies and plaques. They held no positive meaning for me anymore. Only reminders of failure. How was I going to move forward? How was I going to support my son? What kind of role model was I going to be?

I sat and wept bitter tears. God, who am I now without football? Why did you give me this dream just to take it away? I prayed harder than I had ever prayed before. Then it came to me: rehab time. Athletes rehab from all sorts of injuries and setbacks. Wasn’t I also struggling with a setback? A big setback.

I started out by hitting the gym with a dude from church. We’d go there in the middle of the night, when the place was empty. Pumping iron, pounding on the treadmill, holding each other accountable. I needed my friend to watch out for me as I watched out for him. I had to remake myself inside and out. I pored over the Bible. I drove to the mall and hung out at Barnes & Noble, sitting at one of the tables, reading every self-help book and inspirational book that I could get my hands on.

I’d get glimpses of what I needed to do, but you can’t remake yourself all at once. You need to take it in stages. I had to face up to the truth of who I was, not who I imagined myself to be. I made short videos of what I’d learned and posted them online, passing on the advice. RehabTime, I called it.

One of my new rules for living was to thank God at the beginning of each day, before even getting out of bed. Thank God for the life I was given. Thank God for my parents, my son. Set things right.

I was just a former football player, not a preacher, author or media star, but I got a call out of the blue. A guy I knew from Baylor asked me to speak at his church. “Who am I supposed to speak to?” I asked. A bunch of teenagers, he said. How many of them would be there? “Five thousand,” he said. Five thousand for my first speaking engagement! How long was I supposed to talk?

“Five minutes,” he said. Five minutes? It might as well have been five hours. I tried not to freak out. I wrote down all the things I should say. I rehearsed them over and over in my head. But the minute I stepped on stage, my mind went blank. I had no idea how to help these teens. All I could talk about was what I’d been through. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and spoke from the heart. No notes, no filter. Just me straight up.

Those kids peppered me with questions afterward, hungry for more. I got a huge ovation, bigger than I ever got on the football field. That’s when it hit me: You don’t have to be perfect to help people. All you have to be is real.

My life was coming together. I was working at being a good dad, a good son, a good friend. Without even planning it, I had a whole new calling. I began posting to YouTube every day. The videos took off, getting thousands of views, hundreds of thousands—millions. It was both humbling and awe-inspiring. The comments and questions came pouring in, people asking for advice, help I’d never be able to offer if I were playing on Sunday. Help that came from my own struggles.

One day, I picked up the Bible my mother had given me way back in high school. On the cover was a football with the initials NFL. I’d always thought it was a reference to my football dreams, but then I noticed that the letters also stood for something else: New Found Life. On the first page, Mom had quoted Jeremiah 29:11: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” This was my newfound life.

Trent with his wife, Maria, and their
children, Tristan and Maya

Today I’m happily married with two kids and another on the way. I do a lot of speaking engagements, and every day I post a video and respond to all those questions from people, always trying to be honest, speaking from the heart. Admittedly, trying to keep up with 10 million Facebook followers and 1.6 million on Instagram can be tough. One morning, I woke up and checked my phone before I even got out of bed. Ding, ding, ding, ding. I was being bombarded. How would I ever keep up? I started typing answers. Something on Twitter caught my eye, and I went to retweet it.

Then I stopped myself. What was I doing? Hadn’t I told people that the best way to start the day is with gratitude? Didn’t I believe in doing that myself? No wonder I was so stressed. Physician, heal yourself! Trent, it’s RehabTime.

I put down the phone and went for a hike. There are some great trails near our house. Great for exercise and fresh air. Best of all, my phone doesn’t even work out there. No signal. Nothing to take me away from where I am. I have a new way to start the day now, to protect my peace and to connect with God. I go for a hike first thing. For 45 minutes, nothing else matters. It’s just God and me.

So you see I’m still a work in progress. We all are. There are so many ways to grow; there’s so much to learn and pass along. So much to discover.

Not long ago I was back at that Barnes & Noble, where I used to sit for hours, studying book after book, learning from people who seemed so wise, so full of faith. This time I was sitting in front of a huge stack of books, signing copies. Because this book was my own, The Greatest You, by Trent Shelton. Me, a published author. Who could have ever known? When God says he’ll give you back better than what you lost, believe him.

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Transform Your Life Today

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Diana Aydin

A few years ago, I came across an article about the top five regrets of the dying, based on observations by Australian hospice nurse Bronnie Ware. I emailed the article to my dad. He thanked me for sending it, told me how much he loved it. I didn’t think anything of it–my dad always seems to like my emails.

It was only later that I found out that the article had really struck a chord with him, specifically item number two on Bonnie’s list: “I wish I didn’t work so hard.” It actually convinced him to retire. Something I never thought would happen until he was maybe 92!

Well, it’s been three years and my former workaholic dad absolutely loves retirement. I guess you never really know how God will use you to set a plan into motion, even if it’s for someone else. An email, a kind word, a seemingly insignificant encounter. They can all lead to pretty big things.

Here’s the rest of Bronnie Ware’s list, adapted from her book, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying–A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing. Which item most resonates with you?

1) I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honored even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

It is very important to try and honor at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until they no longer have it.

2) I wish I didn’t work so hard.
This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.

3) I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

4) I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.

5) I wish that I had let myself be happier.
This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.

Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.

Trailblazing Female Chaplain on Overcoming Fear and Finding Gratitude in Tough Times

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Ashley Lateef

Karen Diefendorf always knew she wanted to be a pastor. “I’m told from about the time I was four years old I would say: ‘I want to be a preacher when I grow up.’ Everybody would pat me on the head and laugh—my church didn’t generally ordain women,” she said. “They’d say, ‘Well, she’ll get over that.’ But I never did. I felt a strong sense of calling very early in my life.”

Still, Diefendorf couldn’t have anticipated where her long and varied career would take her. During a 24-year career as an army chaplain, she served all around the world, including a stint at the Pentagon, made history as the army’s first female chaplain paratrooper and racked up some impressive honors, before ultimately being named Director of Training and Development at the U.S. Army Chaplain Center.

Today, instead of settling into retirement, Diefendorf serves as Director of Chaplain Services for Tyson Foods. “God keeps presenting these opportunities to me,” she says. Diefendorf talks to us about her life, career and how she finds gratitude each and every day.

GP: After growing up in your small Indiana town you headed directly to seminary?

KD: Yes. I went to Lincoln Christian College and Seminary (now Lincoln Christian University) in Lincoln, Illinois. My father really wanted me to go to Indiana University to do prelaw, but I knew within the first three days of being on campus that this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

GP: What happened after seminary?

KD: I ended up at a local United Methodist Church. I started as a part-time youth minister and ended up staying more than ten years before moving to another small church as their pastor. It was a great opportunity to get to preach full-time.

GP: When you entered active-duty army life in 1986, you were married with two young daughters. Did your family move around with you?

KD: Yes. A lot of people didn’t know what to do with a male army spouse at that point. Walt [her husband] was a trailblazer. He had to take care of our kids and figure it out. I give him a lot of credit.

GP: Where were you stationed throughout your career—and did you have a favorite place?

KD: Let’s see, we were in Fort Benning in Georgia; four years in Hawaii—our son was born there, then New Jersey. I spent a year at Yale University getting a Masters in Ethics, there was four years in Korea and two years at the Pentagon. A couple others, too. A favorite? No. It’s about the people you serve with. There was something unique about every single place we lived.

GP: How did the paratrooper gig come about?

KD: I was assigned to be chaplain at airborne school at Fort Benning. My ministry would have been a lot less effective if I wasn’t jump qualified.

GP: Were you scared?

KD: I think if you aren’t afraid you are going to get yourself hurt. The adrenaline certainly goes up every time that door opens on the aircraft. But you learn to trust the training. You always knew Chapel on Sunday was going to be packed before the first jump on Monday afternoon.

   Tyson Foods Director of
   Chaplain Services, Karen
   Diefendorf

GP: After the army you worked as a hospice chaplain before heading to Tyson?

KD: Yes, my husband and I had decided to settle in South Carolina. There is a small Tyson plant there and I provided chaplain support six to 15 hours a week. Then, the director position in Arkansas opened up. But my husband had just built his 3-car man cave garage—and I thought, why would he ever leave. But he said, “let’s go.” That’s why I knew God had his hand in this. I felt very clearly that God was asking me to take on this responsibility.

GP: Now you oversee about 100 chaplains in 25 states. Tell us about the scope of the job.

KD: There are a few chaplains in the corporate headquarters, but the majority are at our 140 or so plants, seeing people one on one. Our team members rely on their chaplains to help them cope with life. I’ve taught our chaplains to ask two questions. One: tell me how your beliefs help you cope with what you are going through. That gives an insight into how people think. I also ask them: tell me how your beliefs are not helping you right now. One thing I’ve learned is that when crises happen there is often a crisis of faith.

GP: Has counseling during Covid been a challenge?

KD: Oh yes, but I’m so impressed with our chaplains. Those in the plants, have had to wrestle their own fears to the ground and say: “my people need me…” They’ve done an awesome job of helping our team members have confidence; I’m really grateful.

GP: How do you maintain gratitude during tough times?

KD: Gratitude is a pillar of my faith. But it always begins with the fact that I trust that whatever comes, God is a redeemer. If I believe that whatever comes to me—as cruddy as it may be—that God can make it work for my good, then there is a joyful component. There is a deep sense of confidence in me that this too shall pass.

God has a way of making things work for our good. My job is to open my eyes and watch him do it. When I walk into worship—whether that is on a Zoom platform or in person in a sanctuary somewhere—I have something to be worshipful about. I’ve gotten to see what God has done. To me, that’s a humbling experience.

Total Transformation

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Tammie Temple

That Saturday morning last April I had butterflies, waiting for some special guests to arrive.

A month earlier I’d found out that I won the New Year, New You contest. Even though the people at Guideposts said I’d been chosen because I showed the most promise of all the entrants, I couldn’t quite believe it.

My self-esteem was at an all-time low, my weight was at an all-time high and I certainly didn’t feel like a winner.

Any minute now the Guideposts Dream Team of lifestyle change coaches would be knocking at my door.

I’d seen their photos in my January 2009 issue, and I could picture the four of them charging into my house, ready for their mission, which, as the contest announcement put it, was “to develop a personalized healthy living plan” for me. Lord knows, I prayed for it and needed it!

It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful for the many blessings in my life. My marriage to my high school sweetheart, Greg, still going strong after 25 years; our two wonderful sons, K.C. and Chris; the dream house we were building; my hard-earned college degree (I’d gone back to school at 36 and graduated at 40); my job as a sixth-grade teacher; my extended family, numerous friends and a terrific church family.

But I had plenty of problems too. My weight had been an issue since childhood, and it was a major factor in my health problems—foot and back pain (exacerbated by being on my feet all day teaching), pre-hypertension and pre-diabetes.

I was only 42, much too young to be having so many physical issues. I knew I needed to get healthier, but where would I even start? After all, I’d tried nearly every diet out there.

Physical fitness—or lack thereof—was another issue. Before the contest, I’d tried once again to get into shape by walking. I could barely walk a mile at first.

I’d reared two athletic sons, soccer players who ran up and down the field, and I yearned to be able to run with them.

But after a long day at school and helping out with activities like the children’s group at church, I was done. I had to decline when my coworker Dianne invited me to work out with her after school.

Yet the problem I struggled with most was my negative thinking. It was at the root of all my other issues. Even with so many blessings in my life, I often felt like the world was crashing down on me.

It was as if all the insults that had been leveled at me about my weight over the years had eaten away at my soul. I doubted my willpower, even doubted my faith was strong enough to make the changes in my life I knew I had to make.

At last a car pulled into the drive. I flung open the door. The Dream Team was here! There was a flurry of hugs and introductions.

I recognized them all—Theresa Rowe, fitness expert; Kevin Carroll, motivational speaker; Rebecca Katz, chef and nutritionist; Julie Hadden, my favorite contestant from The Biggest Loser.

Someone—I think it was Kevin—said, “Tammie, are you ready to change your life?”

“I’m ready!” Time for the Dream Team to get to work.

Rebecca took on a huge challenge: teaching me how to buy and cook healthy food. She almost fainted when she looked in my pantry. I don’t think she’d ever seen so many boxes of Hamburger Helper outside of a grocery store.

She showed me how to read food labels, so I’d know the nutritional content and the stuff to stay away from, like high-fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated oils.

Cut out processed and fried foods, she said, and ramp up the fruits and vegetables. But what would I feed Greg and the boys? They weren’t big on vegetables.

“I’m just trying to cook what they like,” I explained. Rebecca wasn’t having it.

“If you want to change, you can’t fall back on what you’ve always done. You need to make conscious choices,” she said. “It won’t kill your family to get off the fried stuff. Eating healthier will help all of you live longer. That’s what you want for those you love, right?”

Of course! I just hadn’t thought of it like that.

Kevin’s known as Mr. Positivity, and I could see why. He exudes positive energy.

“It’s great that you want to make lifestyle changes. You’ve gotta aim high,” Kevin said. “The way to reach a big goal is to set smaller goals leading up to it. Achieve one goal, then go for the next. When you reach a goal, reward yourself. But not with food.”

He suggested going to a movie with Greg or taking a break from housework and spending some quiet time with God. What really got me was that Kevin said when I reach a goal. Not if, when.

I was intimidated by Theresa at first. She’s in fantastic shape and serious about fitness. I thought she would be like those scary, in-your-face trainers I’d seen on TV, but she turned out to be deeply spiritual—a soul trainer.

When I admitted I hated to exercise, Theresa wasn’t fazed. “Don’t think of it as a chore. Think of it as a time to be with the Lord and to praise him,” she said. “Say you’re power walking. Look around at all the Lord has created and give thanks.” Exercise as a form of prayer? Now that I could relate to!

I felt like I knew Julie already from watching The Biggest Loser and reading her cover story in Guideposts last January. In person, she’s even more inspiring.

She gave me lots of tips, like keeping a journal to record every calorie I put in my mouth as well as every calorie I burned. And asking myself why I’m reaching for food: “Am I really hungry? Or am I bored? Upset? Stressed?”

The most important lesson Julie taught me had nothing to do with eating or exercise, and everything to do with my emotional and spiritual well-being.

That afternoon a photographer came to take pictures of me in front of our azaleas. “I hope you have your wide-angle lens,” I joked.

Julie pounced on me like a dog on a June bug. “Do you realize what you do to your mindset when you say things like that, Tammie? You’ve got to cut that out. Now I want you to say, ‘I am worthy of this opportunity.’”

I opened my mouth but I couldn’t get the words out. Tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn’t felt worthy of anything for so long. In fact, I’d lived my life feeling just the opposite. “Say it, Tammie.”

It took me a few tries but I finally got it out: “I am worthy.” Whoa. I could feel myself standing taller, facing the world with more confidence. Who knew three simple words could be so powerful?

It was an intense weekend. Sunday evening my Dream Team coaches went home. They’d be in touch regularly, but now it was up to me to put all the good information they’d given me into practice.

First, I found a workout partner. Like Theresa advised, I chose someone who liked to exercise every day, so her commitment would strengthen mine: Dianne.

I joined the gym and met her there every day after school. I set my first small goal: running a mile. Dianne cheered me on from the next treadmill, “Just one more minute, Tammie. You can do anything for a minute!” The day I ran my first mile, I don’t know who cried harder, Dianne or me.

Next challenge: eating healthy. It certainly took a lot longer to shop when I read the labels. But choosing fruits, vegetables and lean protein was worth it. I’m worth it, I reminded myself.

My men were taken aback when I declared our kitchen a no-fry zone, but they got into it once they realized food that’s good for them could still taste good.

Regular exercise worked wonders. I had the energy to keep up with the kids at church even after a long day at school. I increased the distance I ran to three miles. Then I set another goal: running a 5K.

Chris decided he’d do the race with me, so we trained together over the summer. He ran figure eights around me, that smart aleck, but what a joy it was to be working out with my son!

Of course, obstacles cropped up—the pizza party for my mom’s birthday, trips out of town, those five weeks when I hit a plateau and didn’t lose an ounce. But I drew on the support of the Dream Team, my family and friends, and powered through.

Most of all, I drew on my faith. It struck me that all those excuses I used to make—I’m just meant to be big, I’m too tired to exercise, my guys won’t go for vegetables—were a form of negative thinking. A way of telling myself “I can’t” when God was trying to show me I can.

As Dianne pointed out when I got down on myself, “You graduated college with a 4.0 GPA while working full-time. You accomplished that; you can accomplish anything you set your mind to.”

Like that 5K. I ran all the way to the finish line. When I told my class, one of the kids, bless his heart, said, “Awesome! Mrs. Temple, you should try out to be a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader!” That’s not my next goal, but I sure like that line of thinking.

It reminds me of one of my favorite Scriptures, from Hebrews: “Let us lay aside every weight…and let us run with endurance the race set before us looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.”

A year ago I never would’ve dreamed I’d be able to get healthy, lose more than 60 pounds or run five miles (that’s what I’m up to now). Just goes to show what’s possible when you set aside the weight of your negative thinking and see the potential God sees in you!

To Start a New Habit, Do This First

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Holly Lebowitz Rossi

The dictionary definition of a “habit” describes a behavior that’s routine, settled, and often done subconsciously. You might not even notice it in your everyday life.

Psychology tells us that new routines take a long time to adopt—and possibly even longer to break. Two months of consistent investment in new behavior is just the starting place to ensure a sustainable, fully integrated habit.

This is a time of year to get excited about launching new behaviors, breaking old ones, and giving our lives a general refresh. But knowing what’s involved with making changes, it’s smart and healthy to pause and review what we’re currently doing on a daily basis.

If habits are mostly subconscious, after all, who’s to say we won’t be reinventing the wheel by committing to new ones? Here’s how to start an inventory.

Give Yourself a Few Days

Plan on 2-4 days that are examples of your typical routine, and grab a notebook or open an electronic document to track your habits. A single thought-scan of your day isn’t enough to identify repeat behaviors, or notice the subtleties of habits that aren’t obvious at first glance.

Focus on Daily Touchpoints

Wake-up, mealtimes, work routines, evening patterns, and bedtime are spaces we move through each and every day. Start there. Note behaviors you notice, like whether you get up from your desk every hour to re-fill your water bottle or grab a snack. Don’t judge or evaluate your habits, just list them.

Review and Process

Look at your habits. Do they have something in common? Do you see categories of behavior, like responses to stressors, or managing energy fluctuations, or keeping track of complex schedules? Reflect on your behaviors with an eye toward what is serving your positive, inspired life—and what you want and need to release or replace.

This exercise will give you solid ground from which to launch new healthy habits in this new season. After all, when you have a clear vision of where you are, you can more easily step toward the place you want to be.

How clear a picture do you think you have of your current habits?

To Retire with Purpose, Know Your Purpose

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Ashley Lateef

Content provided by the Good Samaritan Society.

After 47 years working in healthcare administration, and 15 years of being retired, Dr. Judy Ryan has had ample opportunity to reflect on the ways retirement changed her life.

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If you’re getting ready to retire, Judy has seven questions to help you prepare.

1. What concept guides your life?

Turning to scripture helped Judy, a former president and CEO of The Evangelical Lutheran Good Samaritan Society, reflect on what it means to make life-changing decisions. The word “kavod” helped her wrestle with the impact of leaving her career.

“Kavod means something like wisdom, but heavy — the capacity to think about this world and the next, and to make life decisions based on that process of moving from this world to the next,” Judy says. “It is closely related to the idea of a discerning heart. It is both noun and verb, a dialogue with God.”

2. Do you have time to be creative?

For Judy, work in medical policy and advocacy kept her from artistic endeavors. During retirement in Key West, Florida, she began to paint.

3. Have you found a vibrant retirement community?

Think about home maintenance and medical care. But also look for a place that offers things like group activities, outings, and a spiritual community that inspires you.

4. Have you found services for older adults in your community?

Judy and her husband, Rocky, planned financially for retirement, but not everyone has that luxury. If you don’t feel financially secure, look into free and low-cost services in your area. Meals on Wheels and Senior Companions are two programs that can enhance your well-being on a budget.

5. Are you compassionate with others?

This could mean visiting residents in a nursing home, or spending time listening to people with views that differ from yours.

6. Do you have a spiritual focus in your life?

“Having some concept of God absolutely directs the way I live my life,” Judy says. “Find your own faith experience that allows you to experience that.”

7. How can you remain involved in things you’re passionate about?

Themes of advocacy, care and education all came up over and over throughout Judy’s life, so she felt called to keep working on those areas of her life in retirement.

For you, personal interests and skills might lead you to volunteer in a career field that was important to you, serve as a mentor or pass along life stories to your family members.

No matter how you spend your time, Judy’s got one bit of healthcare advice for you:

“Don’t take yourself so seriously,” she says. “Laughter is good medicine. It just plain is.”

Too Young to Be an Alcoholic?

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Ross Hauser

Most people are just starting adult life in their twenties. I feel as if I have lived a lifetime already.

I took my first drink when I was 14. I was an alcoholic before I graduated high school. I was kicked out of one college and dropped out of another. Along the way, I got arrested for public intoxication and driving under the influence. Four months after the DUI, I was fired from my job at a fast-food restaurant. I was close to broke. My parents had run out of ideas for trying to help me.

I was 21. Alcohol had crippled my life before I was old enough to drink legally.

How did I sink so low so fast? How did I climb back up?

I hear those questions a lot in my current job as an administrator at a sober living facility in Austin, Texas, called Alpha 180, which specializes in people like me: young adults whose lives were being wrecked by drugs or alcohol.

The residents of Alpha 180 come from many backgrounds. We all have one thing in common: We once thought of drugs and alcohol as harmless rites of passage for teens and young adults.

We found out the hard way that, for people prone to addiction, the real rite of passage is learning to live an adult life without the crutch of intoxication. It’s a lesson I wish I’d learned a long time ago. I’m grateful that in my new life and my work, helping people like me, I’m getting to grow up at last.

There’s no obvious reason why I became an alcoholic. I grew up in a stable, happy family with loving parents. Dad was an accountant. Mom stayed home with me and my younger sister, Sara. Church was a big part of our lives. I went to a small Christian private school.

Despite all those good things, I somehow became convinced that drinking was a sign of grown-up sophistication. In middle school, I had a vague sense that somewhere out there all the cool kids were drinking and having a great time. I wanted in on that.

One day, I reached into my parents’ liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. My parents hardly ever drank. Mostly the small cabinet in the living room stayed shut.

I uncapped the vodka bottle and took a sip. Disgusting! I choked and nearly spit it out.

And yet, at the same time, I tasted liberation in that vodka. Freedom from my 14-year-old insecurities. Access to that cool grown-up life I’d envisioned. I took another drink and another until I was buzzed. That feeling I liked a lot. I hit the liquor cabinet more times before discovering there really were cool (to me) kids at school who drank. Soon I was partying with them. A few kids’ parents didn’t seem to care what we did, so we drank at their house.

My own parents were clueless. Once, they caught me coming home with alcohol on my breath, but I swore it was my first time and promised it would never happen again. They grounded me, but that was all. I kept up with school and other activities, so no one suspected anything.

My problem with alcohol worsened during college. Dramatically. Unsupervised, I drank whenever I wanted. That grown-up life I’d envisioned, surrounded by all the cool people with drinks in their hands? The reality was me sitting alone in my dorm every day, getting wasted and sending drunk text messages to my friends. Really cool, right?

One of those texts got me kicked out of school. I texted something nasty and threatening about a professor, and the text wound up with campus police.

A few hours later, officers were pounding on my door. I was arrested for threatening a faculty member. I couldn’t even remember what I’d written. Administrators told me I could leave the school or face charges. I left.

My parents were stunned but tried to be supportive. They let me live at home while I applied to a new college, Texas A&M. I kept things together until I started school. Then it was back to daily drinking.

I lasted less than a year at Texas A&M. Late one night, I came reeling out of a bar and got arrested for public intoxication. Ten months later, while driving drunk to meet some friends, I blasted through a small town at highway speed and got pulled over. I failed a sobriety test and went to jail.

My parents found an outpatient rehab program. I attended halfheartedly for a week before relapsing. Part of the problem was that most of the other people in the program were older than I was. I convinced myself they were the real alcoholics. I was just a college kid who liked to party.

I can handle this, I told myself. I’d snap out of it after growing up a little—graduating, getting married, landing a great job.

The job I got? Behind the counter at Chik-fil-A.

By this point, I was desperate to stop drinking. I knew I was headed off a cliff.

The cliff came four months later, when Chik-fil-A fired me for coming to work drunk with a bottle of liquor in my pocket.

Why did I do it? Especially when I knew alcohol was wrecking my future? I drank for the same reason all alcoholics drink. Because I was physically addicted and thought drinking would help me cope with the shame of living an alcoholic life. That’s what people in recovery call alcohol-brain. It culminates in shame-based drinking.

I went back to La Hacienda, the rehab facility I’d dropped out of.

“I’m wondering if you take people back,” I asked the woman at the intake desk. I braced myself for a curt no.

“Of course we do,” she said. “It’s great to see you, Ross. Welcome back.”

I was floored. Standing there at the desk I told her everything—how I’d returned to drinking a week into the program, then gotten fired from my job. My voice was heavy with defeat.

Matter-of-factly, the woman told me about La Hacienda’s four-week residential program in a small town about 200 miles from Texas A&M (not far by Texas standards). I decided right there that’s what I wanted.

“We’ve been praying so hard for you,” Mom said when I told her I was going to a treatment center.

Part of me wanted to say, “God doesn’t seem to be answering those prayers.” But that didn’t seem like the right attitude to start recovery.

La Hacienda combines the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-step program with lots of support from treatment professionals—doctors, therapists, nurses—and other participants.

Determined to succeed, I blazed through AA’s steps one and two, admitting I was powerless over alcohol and that only a power greater than me could stop my drinking.

Then came step three: “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.”

What did that mean? I’d grown up in church. Hadn’t I already done that? If praying to God could stop alcoholism, I’d have been sober a long time ago.

“I don’t get this one,” I confided to a therapist.

“It’s not complicated,” he said. “You just have to be willing to do things you know are good for you even if you don’t really want to do them. Trust God to know what’s best and follow his lead.”

Do things you know are good for you even if you don’t really want to do them.

From the moment I took that first drink from my parents’ liquor cabinet, I’d been running away from this simple definition of growing up. I crawled inside a bottle and hid from the complicated emotions and difficult responsibilities of transitioning to adulthood.

“I’m tired of doing this alone,” I said to God. “Help me. I’ll do what it takes, no matter how hard.”

I graduated from La Hacienda, sober but still ashamed and unsure of how to live an actual adult life.

Together with two La Hacienda friends, I moved into a sober living house in Austin. While there I happened to attend an AA meeting at another sober living facility called Alpha 180.

It was a revelation. Everyone in the room was my age. Their stories were my story—underage partying leads to solo drinking leads to train wreck.

“I’m so ashamed,” one person after another said. “I feel like I let everyone in my life down. I want a different future.”

I didn’t know what my own future held, but I felt certain these meetings would help me figure it out. I spent so much time at Alpha 180, the director eventually invited me to apply to become a house manager, overseeing the living quarters and assisting with programming.

Alpha 180 helps residents become responsible adults by mixing service and accountability with opportunities to blow off steam. The house is deliberately located close to the University of Texas campus, in a part of Austin known for drunken parties.

The mission is to be a beacon of sobriety in a place dominated by the idea I once believed—that drinking and drugs are a shortcut to adulthood. We have fun—paintball fights, outings to movies and concerts. But we’re also collectively responsible for running the house, and we’re not afraid to be honest and vulnerable with one another.

I’m still growing up. I recently reenrolled in school, and I’m taking on new responsibilities at Alpha 180, writing for the house’s website and mentoring younger residents.

I’m excited about the future and no longer ashamed. I don’t have to drink to feel grown-up. I’ve been through a rite of passage requiring more change and growth than alcohol’s false promise.

I gave in and let God lead. I accepted the challenge of doing what’s right, even when I don’t want to. I encourage every young addict to embrace those life-giving marks of true sobriety. Of true adulthood.

OUTREACH & PARNTERSHIPS