Sommaire pour June/July 2024 de Guideposts

Greetings, friends! I start this way because of the featured Up Side quote (page 6) from U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy, who warns that the nation’s health is threatened by an epidemic of loneliness. His recent report outlines the dire consequences of isolation, alienation and friendlessness. Loneliness. Those three syllables seem to speak to us. It is inevitable to the human condition. Think of Jesus in Gethsemane. When I first came to GUIDEPOSTS, the magazine was doing a series on loneliness that drew a lot of response. So many people were struggling. In the (many) years since, the problem has only grown, exacerbated by social media whose duality both connects us and pushes us apart, a pandemic that locked us down, bitter politics that divide us. No wonder the surgeon…

A PASSING—BUT LASTING—COMPLIMENT I was walking through the mall one day when a woman passing by said, “I like your shoes.” I glanced down at my well-worn tennis shoes and wondered what was special enough about them to warrant a compliment. My shoes seemed pretty ordinary to me. Still, her kind words stuck with me for the rest of the day. That experience has inspired me to look for ways to give small but sincere compliments to strangers. A man in the grocery store was wearing an unusual shirt, so I called out to him, “That’s a handsome shirt you’re wearing!” As I pushed my cart past him, a delighted expression dawned on his face, which I found very rewarding. I might compliment the color of a lady’s nail polish or…

Life Is an Adventure Daniel Schantz Moberly, Missouri The hardest thing about being a pastor’s kid was moving all the time—seven times in 10 years. I hated it. I even threatened to run away when I was 13. “Think of it as an adventure,” Dad said. “The Good Lord always provides.” Those words grated on me. But I couldn’t help noticing how much Dad lived them out. He was a sanguine, upbeat person, always whistling favorite hymns and savoring the little things in life: enjoying a good breakfast, reading the morning paper, walking to the post office, tending his garden, helping Mom in the kitchen. Life was an adventure because Dad trusted God, and God makes even little things extraordinary. What Love Looks Like Caroline Conklin Seattle, Washington My father…

“Am I speaking to Ricki Distin?” “Yes,” I said into the phone. My voice was wary. I didn’t have time for telemarketers. My husband, Denny, and I care for our adult son, who is disabled. Denny’s mother also lived with us. Denny is a small-town pastor. Our plate is more than full. “My name is Beverly,” the woman on the phone said. “I have your father here. He lived with our mother, but she’s in hospice. What would you like us to do with your dad?” There was an awkward silence. Oh, I didn’t lack for ideas about what to do with my father. None of them were Christian. What I wanted to say was, “Do whatever you want with him. Just leave me out of it.” Instead I asked…

My dad had a funny habit of barking at our elderly Shih Tzu, Daisy, whenever he came to our house. “Woof, woof,” he’d say, and Daisy would wag her tail and bark back. “Good dog!” he’d praise her. It always made me smile. Dad had dementia and lived in a senior community not too far from us. I hadn’t been able to visit him for months because of Covid restrictions, so we would have regular FaceTime calls. Each day when I talked with my father, we had the same ritual. He’d bark at Daisy. He’d shout, “Hi, buddy,” at my husband, Steve. Then he’d tell me what he’d eaten for lunch and dinner and who had called him. I didn’t know if Dad was making everything up or if he…

Dishes already filled the sink, and my three children hadn’t even finished their breakfast. “Hurry up, or you’ll be late,” I said. “Rafi, finish your juice. Liora, did you put your bicycle away?” “Rafi, that’s my juice!” my youngest, Hillel, shouted at his brother. “Is not!” Rafi yelled back. “That’s enough,” I snapped. “Finish your breakfast, and go brush your teeth!” Over the noise of the faucet, I could hear the boys still squabbling as they left the kitchen. Rinsing a dish, I reminded myself of the Amida, the prayer at the core of the daily prayer services. “Elohai, my God, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking deceitfully…. Open my heart to your Torah so that my soul will pursue your commandments.” That’s not easy in…

My name is Hannah Joy Xiao Ai McKean. I was born in Jiaozuo, a city in Henan province in central China. As a baby, I was left on the steps of a hospital. I spent the first four years of my life in an orphanage and a foster home. I never knew my birth parents. At four, I was adopted by a couple from Texas. Their son, who was in his twenties, had met me at the orphanage while serving as a missionary in China. He told his parents, and they adopted me. Thousands of children from around the world are adopted each year by American families. Sometimes adoption can mean the difference between life and death. Even so, growing up in a foreign country brings its own struggles. Like…

Patti Jo Caterson’s (Harold and Me, page 18) mission to honor World War II veteran Harold Gary continues. On May 13, 2023, Harold donned a cap and gown and received his college diploma, almost 80 years later than planned. In 1941, he’d enrolled at Brothers College, in Madison, New Jersey, only to have his education interrupted by the war. When he came home, he was needed on the family farm and never returned to the college, which is known today as Drew University. When Patti Jo told them Harold’s story, the administrators were eager to recognize him with an honorary degree. That’s how Harold, at 101, came to march in the ceremony with some 350 young students. Harold still marvels that Patti Jo helped bring about his graduation. “I don’t…

THREE GENERATIONS My mother, Barbara, who turns 91 years old this summer, has read your devotional Walking in Grace (formerly known as Daily Guideposts) every morning for longer than my brother or I can remember. Quite a few years ago, she started gifting a copy to my brother. Even though he lives in another state, they read the book together. They also like to play a game whenever he visits. Each morning, one of them reads that day’s devotion aloud and the other person guesses the author based on the details given in the story. After reading the devotions all these years, my mother and brother look to the Guideposts writers as trusted friends. My husband and I moved in with my mother a few years ago, and we too…

“When we help other people, we establish an experience or a connection with them—but we also remind ourselves of the value that we bring to the world.”DR. VIVEK MURTHY, U.S. Surgeon General, on how to combat the public health epidemic of loneliness in this country “The people who make a difference are not the ones with the credentials, but the ones with the concern.”MAX LUCADO, pastor “You cannot forgive without grace, and grace is not something you can demand. You can only sweep out the chamber of your soul and be ready to receive it when it comes.”MIRABAI STARR, author “The point of life is connection—with God, with our own hearts and with the people God puts in our distinctive corner of the world.”from Untangle Your Emotions: Naming What You…

Why is it so hard to make friends these days? Busy lives, digital distractions, lingering pandemic isolation—so much gets in the way of lasting friendship. Yet friends matter more than ever. Last year, the U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy issued an advisory about America’s epidemic of loneliness. Calling isolation a “profound threat to our health and well-being,” he urged Americans to reconnect with loved ones. Jesus called his disciples friends. “The greatest love you can show is to give your life for your friends,” he said. Perhaps the book of Proverbs says it best: “A friend loves at all times.” Amy Weatherly and Jess Johnston know what it takes to make friends against the odds. The two writers met online and bonded over shared interests (including a passion for queso),…

As an Orthodox Jew, I live my life immersed in the beauty and richness of the 613 mitzvot, the divine commandments embedded in the Torah, the Hebrew Bible, that shape the sacred relationship between us and God, as well as our interactions with fellow human beings. From knowing there is a God to uttering the Shema twice daily, each mitzvah holds a special place in my everyday existence. For instance, Exodus 23:19 tells us not to eat meat and milk that are cooked together, a key element of our kosher practices. The Shema, declaring the oneness of God, holds a sacred space within Jewish prayer. As I say its timeless opening words, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one,” I feel a deep connection to generations…

I scanned the line of older gentlemen boarding the charter bus, looking for the veteran I’d be accompanying on a two-day tour of the war memorials in Washington, D.C. That Saturday morning in September 2019 was my first time volunteering for Honor Flight, and I wanted everything to go smoothly. Planning is something I’m big on. I checked name tags. None said Harold Gary. Harold was 98, a World War II veteran. One of the last of the Greatest Generation. I admire the men and women who serve our country. My late parents were Air Force veterans. I thought of following in their footsteps, but my dad wouldn’t hear of it. I went into accounting, then IT, eventually working for Lockheed Martin, a defense contractor. Maybe the seed had been planted…

I’d been on plenty of marches in my time as a Marine, but never anything like this. My platoon today was undisciplined, stopping to kick at twigs, talking and laughing as we hiked through the woods, no one paying attention to the sound of rushing water ahead. Then again, I would expect that from a bunch of 10-year-olds. I was about as far from the battlefield as I could get, accompanying my son, Patrick, and his fifth-grade class on a three-day field trip at Camp Classen, in the Arbuckle Mountains of southern Oklahoma. I looked down at Patrick, sitting in the three-wheel jogger I pushed in front of me. My son has cerebral palsy. Ten years ago, doctors didn’t think someone with his brain damage would live, much less be…

DOVE OF PEACE Three weeks into a six-week outreach mission, I wasn’t sure how I would make it to the end. I was the lone American in an international group traveling through Belgium. We carried a 12-foot cross through different cities, performing dances, music and skits in town squares. The experience was amazing, and I’d made several good friends. But there was one member of the group it seemed as if I would never get along with: our bus driver, Daniel. On our first night in Belgium, Daniel started a conversation with me in Dutch. When he discovered I was an American who spoke only English, his frustration devolved into disgust, not just with me but with Americans in general. According to my multilingual friend Tina, he thought Americans were…

With three number-one songs on the Billboard country charts by her mid-thirties, Loretta Lynn was eager to write another hit. But this time she wanted to prove to listeners that she “could write about something besides marriage problems.” So Lynn penned her most autobiographical song, “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” about growing up in a dirt-poor family in Butcher Hollow, Kentucky. “Every word is true,” she told American Songwriter. As the second of eight children, it was her job to care for the younger kids while her mother cooked and cleaned and washed. That’s how Lynn discovered her musical gift: “I’d rock the babies to sleep and sing to them.” Still, she said, “I’d rather write than sing.” When her producer, Owen Bradley, told her to cut four of the song’s 10…

My eyes took in the length of the indoor pool. Twenty-five yards that looked like 25 miles. “You can do this,” John, my coach, said. “The 200 fly. Don’t overthink it.” I’d swum competitively until quitting before my junior year in college, burned out and discouraged. Now, two decades later, I’d decided to get back into it. But this event, swimming butterfly a total of eight exhausting lengths of the pool, had been my undoing. I can’t go there again. The butterfly was my nemesis. Hadn’t it undone my confidence? But John just stood there quietly, patiently. “Okay,” I finally said and stepped up on the block. “Take your mark,” John said. “Go!” I dove in, the cold water shocking my body. I felt like I was dragging a shipwreck…