Page 217 – Guideposts Articles

The Courage of a Grandmother

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Sam Adriance

Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God… He will come…” (Isaiah 35:4)

My grandmother Gaia turned 80 this year. Gaia and I had only gotten closer as I’d grown up. Her honesty about her upbringing, in a family that didn’t respect a woman’s right to self-expression, helped me not only understand her better but also appreciate the barriers the women of her generation had to overcome.

So there was no way I was going to miss her birthday. I flew from Texas to New Jersey, and drove to Gaia’s house with my parents. I greeted her, wished her a happy birthday and milled around the party, eating hors d’oeuvres and meeting her very best friends in the world.

Then, Gaia did an amazing thing. After everyone arrived, she had all of us gather in the living room. “I am so grateful that you are all here,” Gaia said, “and I want to tell each one of you how much I love you.” Several of her friends, more comfortable acknowledging others than being acknowledged, protested that it was her birthday, but Gaia was undeterred. She spent the next 45 minutes publicly thanking every person at the party, highlighting their many good deeds. She acknowledged their work as therapists, social workers and volunteers; as helpers of the blind, the dying, the elderly and sometimes just regular people who needed comfort. She did this with a face full of life and God’s love.

I was inspired. She was showing a strength she had hinted at before but had never displayed so clearly. I was witnessing a holy transformation, from a good-hearted but frightened person to a woman with the courage to be grateful and say it out loud.

And I understood that my fears didn’t need to own my life. If my 80-year-old grandmother could be courageous, then so could I.

Thank you, Lord, for your messengers who lead us toward your way of life.

The Christmas Card List

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Susan Sarver

Six states and 12 cities. That’s how many I’ve visited in the last few years. I’m not a travel agent either. Just someone who was inspired by, of all things, her Christmas card list. Let me explain.

For over 30 years now I’ve been sending letters along with my Christmas cards to family and friends—just little updates on me, my husband Ted and our sons, Matt and Joseph. Some folks are new additions to the list, and others have been there since the beginning.

Like Jana. She and I met on my first day at Illinois State University and hit it off. We both came from families with six children and loved pop music and going to the movies. After school we promised to keep in touch—and we did, for a while, short visits here and there.

But life got in the way. Still, we never missed sending Christmas cards.

Four years ago I didn’t get a card from Jana. I called her. “Sue, I have terminal cancer,” she told me. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. A month later, Jana was dead. I wish I had visited her more, I thought, heartbroken.

When it came time to put together my Christmas card list later that year an idea hit me: Why not do more than just send people a card? Why not visit them?

First up? My 85-year-old godmother, Betty Jane, in Littleton, Colorado. Betty Jane doesn’t have children and always treated my siblings and me like her own. We write letters all the time. In fact, she still sends me a card with ten dollars for my birthday each year.

But it had been 10 years since we’d seen each other. Ted and I already had a summer trip planned to Rocky Mountain National Park—our first vacation as empty nesters. Why not combine it with a visit to Betty Jane?

“Thank you for coming all this way!” she exclaimed when we arrived, wrapping me in her arms. Seeing Betty Jane brought us both so much joy that I knew I couldn’t stop there.

In December 2009, I took another look at my Christmas list. College friends, church friends, people from other states where we’d lived, former coworkers—so many folks to see! One name jumped off my list: Carol.

Carol and I met in college, in the same dorm where I met Jana. She was the city mouse and I was the country mouse. She grew up in Chicago and had never been to a farm. I grew up on a farm and had never been to a big city. Oh, how we loved to compare our childhoods!

Our last visit was 27 years earlier, back when she was pregnant with twins. Had that many years gone by? Really?

I logged onto Facebook and searched for her name. Up came her profile! I’d recognize that smile and blonde hair anywhere. “I know it’s been a while,” I wrote. “But do you think I could visit you this summer? I’d love to catch up.”

Three days later, she responded. I nervously opened the message. She probably thinks I’m crazy, I thought. “Sue! Wow! Yes, I’d love to see you!” she wrote.

It was just three hours by Amtrak to Naperville, Illinois. But as I stepped off the train, my worries came back. What if we didn’t have anything in common anymore?

“There you are!” shouted Carol. “I could never forget your laugh.” The years instantly melted away. We promised not to wait another 27 years.

During that trip I took another train ride to visit my brother Pat and his wife, Jennifer, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. “Let’s go to the Santana concert,” Jennifer said. What fun!

Just before fall, I went to Bloomington, Illinois, where I’d lived when I was married to my first husband. He walked out on me when Matt was just an infant. I didn’t have anyone to help me. We had no food, no money, and I fell behind on my house and car payments. I’d never felt so alone.

Then three families from the neighborhood stepped in: the Goses, the Hoffmans and the Cottrells. They babysat, fixed my car, handed down kids’ clothes and fed me until I got back on my feet. All this time later they all still lived in the same town!

Carol Gose and I saw a Shakespeare play outdoors, Janet Hoffman and I ate at a fabulous Mexican restaurant and I went to a flea market with Kathy Cottrell. It was like the time never passed.

This past June, Matt got married in Portland, Oregon. Of course, I pulled out my Christmas card list. Who did I want to see near Portland? Jann.

Ted and I had lived in Salem for nine years and I’d worked with Jann at an insurance company. We started on the same day, were the same age and both were new to the area. We became fast friends.

I gave her a call. “Why don’t you and Ted stay with me while you’re in Portland?” she suggested before I could. She even hosted a rehearsal dinner for Matt and his wife, Wendy!

As the summer wound down, I caught up on some cleaning. I was uncluttering a closet when I came across a box of old letters. Something in me just couldn’t throw them away. I opened the first one. “Hi, Susan, Jordan said ‘mama’ for the first time today,” it read.

Terri! Gosh, I hadn’t heard from her in six years. Somehow we’d lost contact. There were more letters from her in that box, so I read them in order. Since she and I had been pregnant at the same time, a wave of nostalgia came over me.

I got out my old address book and dialed the last number I had for her. With many people switching to cell phones, I knew my chances were slim.

“This is Terri,” a voice said. I couldn’t believe it.

“It’s Susan. I’ll be in Bloomington soon,” I said. “Would you want to get together for lunch?

“Are you kidding? Absolutely!”

We met up at Applebee’s and had a great visit. I gave her all of the letters. That night she sent me an e-mail. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have a chronicle of Jordan’s first years and of our friendship. To think we were brought back together by your Christmas list!”

Thanks to that list, I’ve been to plays, flea markets, lunches, church and concerts with old friends. We’ve also had good old-fashioned backyard visits with a glass of iced tea. Whenever I’m having a hard day I think about where I will go for my next trip.

It doesn’t always work out—sometimes people are too busy to get together or they live too far away for an easy trip. In those cases, we visit by phone.

Where to next? Florida, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, or maybe even Japan. Wherever my Christmas card list takes me. It’s one list I hope continues to grow. Friendship is one of God’s greatest gifts to us and I don’t plan to let it go to waste.

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The Book That Bonded Two Brothers

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Adam Hunter

Today’s guest blogger is assistant editor Daniel Kessel.

I’ve always been close with my older brother Mark, and it’s no exaggeration to say that he impacted my decision to become an editor.

When we were in high school, he often gave me books to read, novels that he loved or philosophy books he was studying in class. We’d spend hours discussing the writers he introduced me to, especially on our car rides to and from school each day.

When I went to college, I knew I wanted to study literature–largely thanks to Mark’s influence.

Now that I live and work in New York, I still feel that influence. I make it a point to attend fiction readings and book launches whenever I have the time. It’s a chance to meet other writers and editors, people who love storytelling as much as I do.

Last week, before heading back to New Jersey for Labor Day weekend, I browsed online for upcoming readings. I noticed an event with an author named Justin Taylor.

I’d never heard of him before, but the title of his first book of short stories, published in 2010, intrigued me: Everything Here is the Best Thing Ever. I jotted down the date of the reading: Tuesday, September 2, right after the long weekend.

When I made it back home later that day, the first thing I noticed when I walked through the front door was a stack of my brother’s books on the living room table. What is Mark reading these days? I wondered.

I took a closer look. The book right on top? Everything Here is the Best Thing Ever.

“How did you hear about this book?” I asked Mark when I saw him.

“Oh, I just found it at the library,” Mark said nonchalantly. He’d never heard of Justin Taylor either, he explained. But just like me, the title grabbed his attention.

Coincidence? Not in my book. Over the long weekend my brother and I took turns reading the stories in the collection, discussing our favorite ones just as we had when we were teenagers.

The book was a great–and completely unexpected–way to renew a much-missed part of our relationship, and when I attended Justin Taylor’s reading on the following Tuesday, Mark’s ideas were still fresh on my mind. Talk about perfect timing!

There’s definitely a mysterious bond that siblings share, that goes beyond being raised in the same household. How else can you account for the story of Isaac Nolting and Dakotah Zimmer, two brothers separated as infants who were drawn to each other more than a decade later?

Or the way Associate Editor Diana Aydin’s twin sisters can physically feel each other’s pain and distress?

It’s a bond that can even transcend death, as Mabel Louise Caringer of Stratford, Connecticut, discovered after her brother passed away. Clear evidence of the special connection between brothers and sisters surrounds us.

What about you? Have you and one of your siblings ever shared a Mysterious Moment? Send it to us!

The Blessings of Family Time

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Michelle Cox

We just spent some time with a large rodent. Yes, our family just returned home from a week at Disney World. Eighteen of us. In one house. With six children aged six to 20 months. It was so much fun and I ended the week with dozens of new memories to store in my heart.

Friends, life is hectic—and if we don’t watch it, we get caught up in responsibilities and miss the blessings of family time. All my adult children also have busy lives, and we’ve discovered we have to be intentional about making those times together happen. Here are a few things we’ve learned:

Someone has to get the ball rolling.
Start planning way ahead of time, before schedules get overloaded.
Share the responsibilities, but plan the trip together. That’s part of the fun and will provide extra memories and bonding time.

Our Disney trip was special on many levels. There was the excitement of seeing the characters, awesome shows, rides, parades and fireworks. There were oh-so-yummy foods and somebody saying “I want a bite” whenever we bought a croissant, donut or some other delicious treat. There were priceless times of young cousins and adult siblings spending time together.

One moment in particular stuck in my heart while we were at the Festival of the Lion King show. The little ones watched the action with awe as the cast in monkey suits tumbled and somersaulted across the platform.

And I watched the show in front of me, love overwhelming me as I looked at those precious little faces. And, then, as I saw the sweet expressions on the faces of my sons and daughters-in-law, I bit back tears as I watched them watching their children.

So many memories flooded my mind. Wasn’t it just yesterday that Paul and I took our three little boys to Disney World? Wasn’t it just a few years before then that my daddy took me to Orlando to see Mickey and Minnie?

In the midst of all the laughter and acrobatics, I whispered a prayer thanking God for the blessing of family time, for the sweet memories that bind all of us together.

Yes, it’s a lot of work getting ready for a trip like this, and it’s sometimes a sacrifice to come up with the money, but there are so many benefits from trips together as a family.

It’s fun. Family time provides wonderful photos that can be pulled out and enjoyed for years. It makes memories together that only your family will have.

And it provides a unique bonding time that won’t be experienced in any other way. One of my favorite parts of the trip occurred in the mornings when all the grandbabies piled onto my bed to snuggle and talk with me. Moments like that are precious beyond words.

Make time to enjoy the blessings of family. The memories will be like super-glue for all of you, priceless moments that are truly a gift from God.

The Bible’s Most Famous Friendships

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Alikay Wood

Every year, around February 14, I find myself bombarded with messages about soul mates. It pops up everywhere, from TV commercials to social media. And the takeaway is unavoidable: Soul mates are the main reason to celebrate love.

I’ve never really believed in the whole soul mates thing—that there’s one person we’re destined to meet, fall madly in love with and obsess over for all eternity. What I have found are soul connections, friends who just seem to get you on an almost molecular level. Like my friend Sarah.

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We met in the seventh grade…and it was dislike at first sight. We were polar opposites. She was open, earnest and outgoing. I was guarded, rational and reserved. And yet, somehow, we became the best of friends. Nowadays, she lives in California and I live in New York. But we’re so in tune with each other that I still feel connected to her, even thousands of miles apart. When I’m blue, she’ll just happen to call. When she goes through a hard time, I feel the pain as if it were my own. Our link makes me wonder: Could it be we’re not put on this earth simply to find “the one,” but rather several people we’re divinely connected to? Not soul mates but soul friends?

Curious, I took my questions to Rabbi Deborah Bravo, who’s written about spirituality and friendship. According to Rabbi Bravo, God doesn’t just want us to have friends. God made us specifically to be in relationships with other human beings.

“From the very beginning, in the creation story, we learn that we are designed to be in partnership,” she says. “The root of the Hebrew word for friendship is actually chaver, which means ‘to connect.’ And friendship is all about connection.”

There’s a mystical benefit to friendship, Rabbi Bravo says. It aids our spiritual development.

“An ancient Rabbinic text advises people to ‘acquire yourself a companion,’” Rabbi Bravo says. “God created us with the purpose of interacting with others. We need these relationships to lift ourselves to a higher plane spiritually.”

There are several notable friendships in the New Testament, from Jesus and Lazarus to Paul and Timothy. Scripture also says that David and Jonathan were so close, it was as if their souls were knit together. Other religious traditions stress the spiritual importance of friendship. In the Muslim tradition, a good friend is someone “whose appearance reminds you of God, and whose speech increases you in knowledge, and whose actions remind you of the hereafter.”

Friendship isn’t just good for the soul, though. It’s good for your health. Dr. William Chopik, an assistant professor of psychology at Michigan State University, recently published a study that showed friends can be more important to physical health and longevity than family. And, in 2005, research from Flinders University found that people with a large network of friends lived 22 percent longer than those without such a network.

There’s even a correlation between friendship and increased pain tolerance, according to the science journal Nature. When faced with a challenging task, study participants with a strong group of friends released more endorphins, those chemicals in the brain that make you happy and reduce pain.

Friend intuition also appears to be very much a thing. In 2013, researchers at the University of Virginia found that the bond between friends can be so strong that when one friend is threatened, the other’s brain reacts as if under duress. It’s true. When Sarah went through a particularly rough breakup, I felt my anxiety mounting even though everything else in my life was fine.

But what about those aspects of friendship that can’t necessarily be quantified? Can friends really be like platonic soul mates?

Yes, says Stephen Cope, a psychotherapist and author of Soul Friends: The Transforming Power of Deep Human Connection. Cope became interested in the idea of friendship on a more spiritual plane eight years ago. He’d just moved to a new city and didn’t know a soul. He met a man named Brian in a meditation class. Although they had nothing in common, the two quickly became friends. Their connection is what Cope calls a soul friendship.

“A soul friend becomes critical to determining who we become as a person,” Cope says. “They’re people we form deep connections with. Connections that transform us.”

According to Cope, these types of friendships can take a few key forms. Twinship, for instance, occurs when we recognize an essential likeness in another and bond over shared similarities. Mystical friendships happen when we feel an almost otherworldly connection to someone. Meanwhile, mirrors are those people who see us as we truly are and reflect essential truths about ourselves back to us.

“Soul friends evoke, sustain, affirm and unify us,” Cope says. “We recognize something in them; they recognize something in us. With soul mates, we’d call it chemistry. There’s something similar, in an unromantic sense, going on with soul friends.”

Cope’s categories of soul friends confirmed a hunch I’d had for some time. The notion that marriage isn’t the only important intimate relationship that adults have.

“Soul friends call us forth,” Cope says. “They draw out the person in us that we want to be. It’s almost as if an invisible bond of energy connects us with these people.”

That’s how I felt about Sarah. We called forth the best versions of each other. That unique tie called to mind something Rabbi Bravo had told me about—the Judaic concept of bashert, which means “destiny” or something that comes directly from God. The Yiddish word is most commonly used to describe soul mates, but that’s actually an incomplete definition, Rabbi Bravo says.

“The concept of a person’s bashert is really about the people you’re destined to be with in relationships, typically a romantic one,” she says. “But it can also describe what is ‘meant to be’ in life. People can have many bashert encounters, relationships or friendships.”

I thought about the many times I’ve felt inexplicably led or connected to the friends in my life. Like when my friend Bekah and I showed up to an event wearing the same exact outfit. Or the night my roommate and I stayed up talking until 2 a.m., even though we both had early mornings. Or the letter from Sarah that arrived at the very moment I was missing home the most. For the first time, I recognized those friendships for what they really were. Bashert. Destiny.

The Best Life Advice from Mom

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

Shawnelle Eliasen: Hi, Guideposts. I’m Shawnelle Eliason and these are my boys.

Gabe: Hi. I’m Gabe and one thing my mom always taught me is to stand tall and fill my space.

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Isaiah: Hi. My name’s Isaiah and one of the things my mom always taught us is to be boys of excellence.

Grant: My name’s Grant. And my mom taught me to always work hard, even if you don’t enjoy what you’re doing.

Sam: Hi. My name is Sam. And the biggest lesson that my mom ever taught me is probably that your character is something that almost always goes before you and definitely always comes after you. And it’s something that people will remember.

Logan: I’m Logan. And the best thing my mom taught me was to always put God first.

The Best Christmas Present Ever

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Judy Reed

I was sitting in the kitchen, counting heads for Christmas Eve dinner. What broke my heart was thinking about the one person who wouldn’t be there. My oldest brother, Tim.

We’d had a disagreement, a silly misunderstanding. I wasn’t even sure what had started it, but for three years running we hadn’t spoken to each other, hadn’t sent so much as an e-mail. How could I spend another Christmas Eve without Tim?

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He was my protector, my idol, my best friend. There were four of us kids, two boys, two girls, only five years separating the oldest from the youngest. We almost looked like two sets of twins.

In one of Dad’s old home movies Mom is bringing in her latest and last bundle from the hospital—me. Everybody squints at the glare of the 16 millimeter camera’s light, but nobody seems prouder to hold me than big brother Tim.

Other boys might have scorned a little sister’s company, but Tim let me tag along everywhere—to the schoolyard, to the pool on the Navy base where our father was stationed, to the hobby shop where Tim bought slot cars.

When he did experiments with his chemistry set, I was his assistant, watching the beakers and test tubes. Catching fireflies in the yard, he helped me put mine in a jar to make a lamp.

On Christmas morning we huddled at the top of the stairs, playing jacks and pick-up sticks, waiting for the light on Dad’s camera to warm up. Then Tim led the four of us in a dash down the steps to the presents that Santa had brought.

Our father was a chief petty officer and could be deployed for months at a time. One special holiday we went to a Christmas party for the Navy kids on his ship. Dressed in our Sunday best, we went up the long ramp and crossed a scary plank to the deck.

The ship was festooned in colored lights. A band played carols. We ate cookies, played games, danced the hokey-pokey and did the bunny hop. Every child sat on Santa’s lap to say what he or she wanted.

When I was in sixth grade and Dad was deployed I missed him so much I wrote a long letter saying that when he came home I expected him to retire from the Navy. That year I’d asked Santa for a three-speed bike, but Christmas morning I was so upset, missing Dad and his camera, that I hardly noticed the missing bike.

I opened my presents, then sat beneath the tree and cried. “Judy,” Tim said, leading me by the hand, “come to the kitchen.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was my three-speed bike. Tim was raising the kickstand and rolling it toward me. I was sure that Tim had as much to do with me getting that bike as Santa himself did.

Dad did retire from the Navy, and took a job in the civil service. Because he could get paid double on Christmas Day, we moved the family celebration to Christmas Eve. When he retired from that job, we only had him for another two years.

His death was a terrible loss, one I’d barely recovered from, and dealing with the loss of Tim’s companionship was like mourning all over again.

I looked once more at the list for Christmas Eve. Tim’s grown daughter Katie was coming, as usual, and his son T.J. They hadn’t gotten caught up in our silent war. Why couldn’t Tim and I put an end to it? We were family, after all.

I’d tried writing a letter, to no avail. I’d prayed over and over, God, I forgive Tim. Help him forgive me. We both love each other, you know that.

Tim and his wife, Janea, had provided moral support when my marriage failed. Every Friday I joined them at their house for “pizza and video” nights. Then, when I remarried, it was because Tim had introduced me to the perfect man.

Tim was our daughter’s godfather. His and Janea’s absence from our home and from our table just couldn’t go on any longer.

Sitting in the kitchen, I prayed for the umpteenth time, Lord, let us all be together this Christmas. Just like old times.

I was startled when the phone rang. It was my niece Katie, a lilt in her voice.

“I was just thinking about you,” I said. “Counting noses and thinking about who will be here.” She must have known what was on my mind, but I wasn’t going to bring it up. I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position. Things were awkward enough.

“You won’t believe it, Aunt Judy! I just got off the phone with Dad. He wanted to know what time to go to your house for Christmas Eve!”

I put down the phone in wonder. Tim was coming!

The adults in our family didn’t normally exchange Christmas gifts, but this was different. I wanted to find some way to show Tim that my feelings hadn’t changed one jot since we were kids.

I dashed to Mom’s cedar chest. I rummaged through Dad’s old things. Finally I found it. A framed black-and-white picture of the four of us kids at the Christmas party on Dad’s ship.

Would Tim remember how afraid I was to sit on Santa’s lap and when we crossed the plank, the water visible below us between the cracks? Would he remember dancing the hokey-pokey with me and doing the bunny hop?

I wrapped the picture up and put it under the tree. I could hardly wait to see Tim’s face when he opened it.

Christmas Eve was just like old times. No, it was better. What was lost was found again. Tim and I hugged each other the minute he walked in the door. Then we seemed to pick up just where we had left off. Tim was surprised when I handed him the present.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to do that, sis,” he said, laughing. And then he held out a wrapped gift. It had my name on it.

We stared at each other for a moment. It was as though we were both trying to say, Forgive me. Life’s too short. I can’t do it without you.

“You go first,” I said. All my images of him over the years scrolled through my mind’s eye. Did he know how much he figured in every key scene of my childhood? Did he still remember the bike and the firefly lamp and holding my hand on the ship?

He took off the tissue paper and looked at the old photo in its frame, then hung his head. Tears were in his eyes.

“I’ll go ahead,” I said, my heart beating wildly. I untied the ribbon, lifted the top off the box, dug through the tissue paper and took out an old photo, exactly like the one I’d just given Tim. Now I was crying too. “I can’t believe we both thought of the same thing.”

I’ve had other Christmas surprises since then but nothing quite like that. The best Christmas present I ever received was having my brother back.

The Apple Pie That Almost Ruined Thanksgiving

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

Every November, as Thanksgiving Day approaches, one memory comes to mind. One that always makes me smile. The time my cousin Johnny brought an apple pie to Thanksgiving.

First, some backstory. At my big Turkish family’s holiday get-togethers, baklava is the norm at the dessert table. There’s rolled baklava, square-shaped baklava, diamond-shaped baklava, haystack-esq baklava, walnut-filled baklava, pistachio-filled baklava, chocolate-dipped baklava…well, you get the idea.

One year, though, back when I was in high school, my 20-something cousin Johnny decided to change things up a bit. He showed up at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving with two items that had never before graced our table–apple pie and a can of whipped cream.

Those two items caused one of the biggest controversies in Aydin family history. It was even more dramatic than the time my mom “forgot” to make baklava for Christmas. I distinctly remember my mom and aunts discussing the incident in the kitchen in hushed tones.

“Apple pie?” one of my aunts said. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

I can still recall my mom’s bewildered expression at it all. If there’s one thing is this world my mom distrusts it’s fruit-filled desserts, a no-no in our culture’s cuisine. “Why would you bake fruits into a dessert when you can eat them fresh?” she often says. (For real, she says that about once every two months!)

The whipped cream only made things worse. They would’ve been less shocked if Johnny had showed up to dinner dressed as a turkey. Still, my mom didn’t want to hurt Johnny’s feelings. In a true act of love, she put the pie out on the dining room table, accompanied by the whipped cream. It went mostly untouched.

Nowadays, things are different. We actually have pie at Thanksgiving–my sister Kristin regularly makes pecan pie (the fear of fruit-filled sweets persists, but desserts topped with fruits or nuts have been given the okay). We still laugh about the drama caused by Johnny’s apple pie. I’ll never forget it. It wasn’t just about the pie for me.

Growing up, I sometimes felt like an outsider because of my culture. That Thanksgiving, though, was one of the first times I realized that my family’s peculiarities were actually a good thing (even if we tended to overreact about pie!). It’s what made us, well, us. And one of the many reasons I’m so crazy about them.

What about you? Which Thanksgiving sticks out as your most memorable?

The American Preacher at the Royal Wedding

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Rick Hamlin

Who to get to preach at your wedding? Probably whoever is performing the ceremony. But what if you’re Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, and you’ve got the world at your feet? (Not to mention millions clamoring for any gossip about a royal wedding.)

In an inspired choice, they’ve asked an American (like Meghan), the head of the Episcopal Church, Bishop Michael Curry.

No, he won’t be doing the ceremony. He’ll be doing something even more important. Reminding the wedded couple what true love is about.

Bishop Curry hinted at his sermon topic in a statement. “The love that has brought and will bind Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle together has its source and origin in God,” he said, “and is the key to life and happiness.”

Usually the minister to speak at such a ceremony would be an English prelate. Not with this couple. Although the Episcopal Church is part of the Anglican Communion, headed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, it is decidedly American, owing its origins to those post-Revolutionary days.

Michael Curry is the first African-American leader of the denomination, elected in 2015. He is a thrilling preacher and charismatic leader. “Someone with a great gift for sharing the good news of Jesus Christ” is how Justin Welby, the current Archbishop of Canterbury put it.

What I love about Michael Curry is that he’s a truth teller. He doesn’t just stand on ceremony, even when he’s decked out in the heavy brocaded robes of his position. Take this, a quote from his book Crazy Christians: A Call to Follow Jesus:

“Being a Christian is not essentially about joining a church or being a nice person, but about following in the footsteps of Jesus, taking his teaching seriously, letting his Spirit take the lead in our lives, and in so doing helping to change the world from our nightmare into God’s dream.”

I’ll be tuning in to listen to inspired preaching like that. Even if it is 5 a.m. on a Saturday.

Watch Bishop Curry’s sermon at the royal wedding:

Thankful for My Friend

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Shawnelle Eliasen

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. (Colossians 3:16)

“Where do I go?” Samuel asks. His swim goggles are strapped to his forehead and his green eyes are anxious.

“I’m not sure,” I say.

We’re at Samuel’s debut swim meet. He’s our third son but the first to swim with a team. Lonny, the brothers and I have come to cheer for Sam, but we’re all confused. The indoor pool is fringed with a mass of people carrying bags and folding chairs. Swimmers weave through the crowd, but we don’t see anyone from Sam’s club. A couple of teams are in the water for practice strokes, and I wonder if Sam has missed his warm-up time.

My stress is heavy as the air.

That’s when I feel a tug on my handbag.

I turn around, expecting that one of the little guys has to use the restroom, but instead I look into the sweet face of my friend.

“Karen,” I say. “You came!”

Karen smiles and I’m immediately comforted by the kindness in her warm, brown eyes.

“Yes,” she says. “These swim meets can be tough at first. I came to help.” She rubs Samuel’s shoulder. “Besides, I want to cheer for Sam.”

Karen’s now-grown children were swimmers in high school. She knows the ropes and this is invaluable to me. She directs Samuel to the locker room, where he finds his coach. She introduces us to something called a heat sheet, which holds the information we need for this important day. She even helps us find a few feet of space so that we can open our folding chairs. We settle into our seats just as Samuel dives into the water, taking practice time with his team.

I’m grateful for this help today, but when I think about it, navigating a swim meet isn’t the only thing Karen teaches me. I learn from her, daily, in the spiritual way, too. She’s been walking with the Lord just a little longer than I have. She holds wisdom and knowledge and life experience that I have yet to attain. And she’s generous to share. Watching her apply God’s Word to her life, gleaning and gathering behind her, makes my relationship with the Lord more personal and rich and deep.

I lean over and give Karen a hug. We sit for a few minutes and she visits with Lonny and the boys. Soon I look up and Samuel is sloshing our way. The meet is about to begin.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You’re welcome,” she says. And she smiles.

I think she understands that I’m not only speaking about this swim meet.

Lord, thank you for friends who help me to walk in your truth. Let me be that sort of friend to someone, too. Amen.

Teen Guys versus Teen Girls

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Terry Squires

When people find out that I’m a mom of four grown sons, three grandsons and one husband, they’re puzzled at the fact that I’m surrounded by guys but I have a ministry for teen girls and women.

I’m always asked, “Why do you focus on teen girls and not teen guys?” My answer is simple, because I was once a teen girl and understand the struggles and issues that girls and women face.

Teen guys and men on the other hand, well, are just different. They think differently. They respond differently. They act differently. Or do they?

I’ll never forget the evening when my son had a bunch of teen guys at our home for a sleepover. This meant an all-nighter of playing videos, emptying the pantry of every last ounce of food, and a pile of stinky sneakers that required you to hold your breath when you entered the family room.

Everything was going great until I heard the front door open at 2 a.m. I made a mad dash to the door and on the porch step sat one of the boys.

He was upset at his friends for teasing him and waiting for his dad to pick him up. He was going home. After I received an earful from his father about the teasing of his son, the rest of the teen guys upstairs received an earful from one disappointed mother. The next day, they were all friends again.

Teen guys and teen girls are different, but they do have similarities.

1) Teen guys need their friends. It wasn’t unusual for my son to hang out with his group of friends every weekend. If they weren’t at our home, they were hanging out at another parent’s home.

Be the parent that invites all the friends over. You may go through a couple of gallons of milk and an empty cupboard by the end of the evening, but this gives you the opportunity to know who your teen son’s friends are and what they are doing.

2) Teen guys have feelings. We raise our sons to be tough and not to cry over hurt feelings, but they are sensitive too. Talk to them about their feelings and their struggles. They need you even when they are tough.

3) Show affection. Take time to hug your son. Guys love attention, and they need to know they are loved. My sons are all grown now and out on their own but every time they visit, I still give them hugs, kisses and a few head rubs.

Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6, ESV)

Teaching Our Children Important Lessons

Posted on March 11, 2026March 12, 2026 by Michelle Cox

Years ago when my son, Jeremy was 3, he looked up at me with excitement as we walked through the parking lot to our car. “Look, Mama!” He was clutching a tube of lip balm in his little hand. I knew I hadn’t given it to him and that I didn’t have any in my purse, so I asked, “Where did you get that?” He pointed behind him to the pharmacy we’d just exited. “I picked it up in there.” Yeah, in there where we hadn’t paid for it.

We walked on to the car, but instead of putting Jeremy in his car seat in the back, I sat him in the front seat next to me without starting the motor, so the two of us could talk. I had a gazillion things to do that day, but taking advantage of this moment to teach character to my young son had just moved to the top of my to-do list.

I explained to Jeremy that we couldn’t just take things from stores without paying for them. Tears welled in his eyes when he realized he’d done wrong. I looked at my precious boy and I said, “Here’s what we have to do. We have to take that back in the store. Mama’s going to ask for the manager, and I want you to tell him that you took it, and you’re sorry.”

We walked back to the store, and I asked for the manager. “My son has something to tell you,” I told him.

Jeremy held out the lip balm and said, “I took this, and I’m sorry.” The manager handled it beautifully, and a little boy learned an important lesson.

My son is now 40, with children of his own, but he still clearly remembers that day. And, now, as I watch him stand in the pulpit preaching the gospel, I’m so grateful that those character traits I tried to teach him took root in his heart and life, and that he’s now teaching them to my beloved grandchildren.

Family is the cornerstone of our society. We can impact our world by instilling character in our children—and by being examples of men and women of character.

Dear Lord, remind me that little eyes are watching and little ears are listening as I go about my day. Help me to be a person with stellar character—for them, and even more importantly, for you. Help me to instill those traits in these precious little ones you’ve loaned to me. Amen.