Índice para November 2017 em Guideposts

Joyful Noise Singer-songwriter Ricardo Sanchez (page 24) has hit some great highs in his 12 years as a contemporary gospel recording artist. Check out our exclusive video of him performing at guideposts.org/rsanchez. Helping Veterans Did you know Guideposts’ military outreach provides hope and inspiration to our nation’s veterans? Learn more at guideposts.org/gpmiloutreach. A Thrifty Thanksgiving Are you hosting Thanksgiving? Try our tips for a fun and budget-friendly celebration. guideposts.org/thanksgivingtips Checking in With Chewbacca Mom Candace Payne (page 16) talks about how her life was changed when her Chewbacca Mom video went viral. guideposts.org/cpayne.…

BREAD BRIGADE Eleven years ago, Steve, a friend from church, asked if I would cover his bread run while he was on vacation. Could I pick up leftover bread from Panera—they don’t use preservatives and would throw it out otherwise— and take it to the soup kitchen where he volunteered? No problem. The bread run took less than an hour. A few weeks later, I found out Steve had passed away. Who will do the bread run? I added it to my weekly routine, going to Panera bright and early every Saturday. Then on to the soup kitchen and, when there was enough bread, to the men’s group home. One week, I mentioned to a friend at church, “There’s so much leftover bread, I don’t know what to do with…

The casserole was in the oven. Our five young children were running around the kitchen. They had been cooped up in the house all day. My husband, Eric, knew I needed a break. “Mom called a little earlier and said her washing machine quit working,” Eric said. His mother lived not very far from us. “I’m going to go over and take a look at it. The kids can come along with me. How long before dinner?” “Maybe an hour,” I said. Before he and the kids had their coats on, I was already upstairs, crawling into bed. I set the timer on my phone and reached for a new book I’d bought. I’d been dying to read it for weeks. Now I would finally have time to myself while…

“ WHAT KIND OF DOG IS that?” the woman asked me. There was a slight accent to her voice that made me pause for a moment. People were always surprised when Fred ran out from the back room to greet them at the men’s clothing store where I worked, a job to pay the bills while I finished my degree at Georgetown University. The woman’s daughter bent down and scratched Fred behind his ears. “He’s from Afghanistan,” I said. “I served there when I was in the Marines.” There was a flicker of interest in her dark eyes, so I kept talking. Inside our Marine compound, we’d been under near constant attack. My nerves were shot. In the afternoons, the temperature would reach 115 and the Registan Desert, Sangin District,…

IT WAS WAYLON’S last thanksgiving. He was in the hospital for more procedures, none of which helped stem the downward spiral. Diabetes, heart troubles, neuropathy— they’d all taken their toll. I kept thinking, Now is the moment I need to talk to him. To have the conversation I’d been wanting to have for years. By the time he and I’d met in the sixties—at the outsize two-story Arizona nightclub JD’s—I had abandoned the faith of my childhood. I gravitated toward the materialist philosophy of Ayn Rand. Her books had no mention of God, a higher power or any mystical or spiritual force. Just the preeminence of human will. Such a contrast to the tent meetings my mother used to lead, where I’d played the piano and sung hymns. Waylon had…

Lisa Patterson (Key to My Dreams, page 30) loves her job as a claims examiner at a clinic for Native Americans. Not only does the clinic provide great care to the community, Lisa says, but it encourages employees to care for their own health by giving them time to work out. Off the clock, Lisa continues to become a better reader. “I finish every book I get from the library, even if I don’t love it,” she says. “At least I’ll learn a new word or two.” Lisa’s husband, Terry, came up with a vocabulary game: He’ll say a word, and she gives the definition. They recently played the game on their way to Hawaii to celebrate their twenty-ninth anniversary. Jessi Colter (A Love So Fierce, page 64) didn’t plan…

As we were putting this Thanksgiving issue of Guideposts to bed, Hurricane Harvey struck Texas and the floodwaters came, sweeping away homes and businesses and lives. It just so happened this month that we were running a story from an author whose home was destroyed in a 2008 flood in Columbus, Indiana, a disaster of historic proportions that claimed two lives and caused millions of dollars in devastation. Sharon Mangas recalls her fury at God when she first saw what was left of her home. The loss of a small collection of her father’s books—the last, deepest connection she had to the man, who had died while she was still a child— felt especially cruel. Friends told her that she was fortunate to be alive and that “stuff” could be…

IT ALL STARTED WITH YOGA PANTS. I’d stopped at Kohl’s to grab a pair when I found myself waylaid in the toy section’s clearance aisle by a mask that actually growled at me. A plastic mask in the image of Chewbacca. You know, from Star Wars. I couldn’t resist. First of all, I’m a sucker for a sale. And second, it was Chewbacca, one of my (and Han Solo’s) favorite characters. I had to have it! I had some time before I picked up my kids—Cadence, seven, and Duncan, six—from school. Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I donned the mask and made a short video to share on Facebook. I thought friends would get a kick out of it. Except I could barely get through it. I…

mY WIFE, JENNETTE, HAD dropped me off at the Atlanta airport that day to catch a flight to Jacksonville, Florida. I had my guitar with me and my gig bag. I’m a composer and singer, and I had a show that night. Back then, just eight years ago—it seems like eons—there wasn’t any Wi-Fi on the plane, so I would be out of touch en route. No problem. Jennette was used to being in charge at home. We had three boys. The youngest, Micah, was at summer camp, and the older two, Josiah and Ricardo, were swimming at a friend’s house. We’d had an awesome family vacation the week before, out on the central California coast, where Jennette’s parents lived. The highlight had been the sea lions. We’d spent hours…

I LAY ON THE TABLE OF THE MRI machine. The technician put a pillow under my head and Velcroed my legs and wrists to the table. “Stay still,” she said. “It’ll be over before you know it.” For the next half hour, I had to lie motionless inside a tube so narrow, its top nearly touched my nose. I was on the verge of panic. The Velcro straps felt like shackles. I wanted to get up and run. What was wrong with me? I’d never been claustrophobic. Very little scared me, in fact. That was the athlete in me. I’d done competitive gymnastics when I was younger—the reason I was getting this MRI. An old hip injury had acted up, and the doctor wanted a look at the joint. Actually,…

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. —JOHN 15:13 (NIV) PAT AND I WERE HEADING home from visiting our son in Hawaii. As we were waiting for the plane to leave Honolulu, the pilot told us, “You are all part of a very special flight tonight—an honor flight bringing home the remains of two missing airmen from World War II.” Our pilot went on to explain that a B-24 bomber with 12 crew members had been shot down in 1944 over New Guinea. The airmen who survived the crash had died in captivity. During the flight, I kept thinking about these men, about their families and about the unimaginable pain and turmoil they had all suffered. I wondered whether there were any…

SENIOR SPIRIT I’d moved into a nursing home, filled with apprehension. Would I fit in? Would I get depressed, no longer living with my wonderful children? Would I still serve God? Then Roberta, who went to my church, paid a visit. She brought me a large-print Daily Guideposts and had gotten me a subscription to Guideposts magazine as well! Those stories about folks from all walks of life (even seniors like me!) sparked many conversations. Soon I was going from room to room and onto the front porch, where my new friends sat in rockers, talking about two of my favorite subjects: God and GUIDEPOSTS. I feel at home here, and I’m still sharing my faith. Thank you, Roberta— and Guideposts. DOROTHY BROWNFIELD Huntington, West Virginia Visit shopguideposts.org to order Guideposts magazines…

“Dear past, thank you for all the lessons. Dear future, I’m ready.” Olympic gold medalist GABBY DOUGLAS “We often think that when God closes a door, that is his final answer. We put a period where God puts a comma. We think it’s a ‘no,’ but it’s really a ‘not yet.’” MARK BATTERSON, from his book Whisper: How to Hear the Voice of God “If you’ve habituated your mind to notice the bad, you’ve got to work to find the good. Ask yourself: What can you appreciate right now? What could the upside be? How might this turn out well? How can you contribute to a positive outcome?” from Habit Changers, by M. J. RYAN “Success leaves clues.” life coach TONY ROBBINS, on deriving inspiration from people you admire “If…

EXECUTIVE SECRETARY. OFFICE manager. Paralegal. Medical records supervisor. Slowly I went through the job listings online, slumping more in my seat with each one. I would’ve been thrilled to land any of these jobs. I dreamed of working in an office, where I could dress up instead of wearing a uniform. Where I could be in a position of responsibility. But that was never going to happen. Something was holding me back. The same thing that had held me back my whole life. Reading. It had been a struggle for me as long as I could remember. I did okay with short, basic sentences. But more than that was beyond me. And spelling? What a nightmare! There were so many words I didn’t feel confident writing without looking up. Take…

“ WANT TO WALK IN THE PARK?” I asked my husband, Mark. I was tying my shoes in the foyer of our home in Japan, where Mark and I worked as schoolteachers at an American naval base near Tokyo. As I expected, Mark didn’t even look up from his desk, where he sat staring at his computer. “No,” he mumbled and went right on reading. That’s how it had been for the past several weeks. I had no idea why. When we first arrived in Japan four months earlier—as civilian teachers on a twoyear contract with the military’s overseas school system—Mark and I had walked together in the park every day near our tiny off-base house. I relished every step of those walks. Not only was the bustle of the…

I PACED THE CRAMPED ROOM OF OUR guesthouse in Reykjavik, Iceland, and checked the clock on my phone for what felt like the hundredth time. My dad was rustling through his suitcase, looking for who knows what. “You almost ready?” I asked, doing my best to hide my irritation. “Just a few more minutes,” he said. We’d already wasted almost an hour when we could have been out exploring. I flopped on my bed. What am I doing here? I wondered. More important, what is he doing here? I’d suggested we go to Iceland on a whim as we talked on the phone in the fall. I never thought he would actually go. My dad is not an adventurous person. Until now, he’d never been outside the United States. He’d…

A CALL FOR A CURE I’d been pursuing a career in international banking for years. But I wanted to do more to help others, especially children. So in 1991 I started Children’s Hunger Fund, a relief agency for sick and malnourished kids. Six weeks in, I wondered if I had made the right decision or even if I was cut out for the work. One morning, I was on a phone call with the director of a cancer treatment center in Honduras. “We have seven children in desperate need,” he said. A new cancer drug was the only thing he thought would save them. “Do you think you can get it for us?” “I’ll try my best,” I said. But I didn’t have much confidence. The drug was expensive and…