Table of contents for Dec/Jan 2025 in Guideposts

This issue features an excerpt from our popular annual devotional Walking in Grace. For years, we called the book Daily Guideposts, then changed the title after asking readers how the devotions made them feel and what they thought the book should be called. Walking in Grace, they told us. I’d written hundreds of devotions for Daily Guideposts, and the new title took some getting used to. But what a lovely word, grace. I was taught that grace was freely and universally given by God, a divine constant. Astrophysicists talk of the relic radiation called the cosmic microwave background that permeates all of space—a faint, residual background glow that is virtually uniform throughout the observable universe. Generated at the very time of creation, it is our proof of the Big Bang.…

SILLY SOCKS AND WARM FUZZIES In early 2020, when I was 14, my mom, Rachelle, and I visited a nursing home near our home in Stockton, California, for an arts and crafts event. Just a few weeks later, the Covid-19 pandemic hit, and I got worried about the residents. They couldn’t have visitors or take part in most of their usual activities, and I knew they must be lonely and bored. I’ve always loved silly socks—I wear them when I golf—so my mom and I decided to drop off some fun, colorful socks and little notes of encouragement to nursing homes and assisted living facilities in our area. The residents loved them, so we expanded our reach and set a goal to send them to seniors in all 50 states.…

I held the brief eulogy I’d prepared for my mother’s funeral that May morning. The service was in a building on the cemetery grounds. I sat restlessly waiting for my turn at the podium, fiddling with the paper. I only hoped that the words I’d written could somehow convey the love I felt for her, that I prayed she could feel even now. I hadn’t been the best son. At a young age, I fell prey to drugs and alcohol, lying and stealing to get what I wanted. Once, in the depths of my addiction, I shouted that I didn’t love her. She was in such despair that she actually sat shiva for me. Sitting shiva is the Jewish mourning ritual for the dead. That’s how bad things had gotten.…

Thank you, Lord, for a successful treatment yesterday and for keeping me calm and strengthening my faith. You are always here in my times of need.—ELIZABETH Many of us have been praying that our friend would find work before the holidays. Wonderful news—he found a job!—SANDRA I prayed for my shy daughter to get out with her friends more. She went to dinner last night and had a good time.—LISA Thank you, Lord, for finding me a safe and affordable home. You are so good to me!—GEORGIA From our readers and website visitors. Send your answered prayer to submissions@guideposts.org.…

Itrudged up the steep, rugged slope of South Mountain in Phoenix, my eyes following my husband Kevin’s dusty hiking boots. I’d hiked this trail plenty of times, but now it felt like a slog. We had come here to find elephant trees, a member of the frankincense family that’s native to the Sonoran Desert. Known as Bursera microphylla, the stumpy trees are easily identified by their thick trunks, which store water during times of drought. We planned to collect small branches and the resin, a golden-red sap, as a decoration for a Blue Christmas service at our church. A special service for those needing comfort during the holiday season had seemed like a great idea when I proposed it at a church staff meeting several months earlier. In my own…

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.—1 CORINTHIANS 3:7 (NIV) I picked out a maiden-hair fern at the nursery. Even after the cashier warned me these ferns were delicate and suggested a heartier plant instead, I foolishly insisted on taking it home. Several weeks later, the maidenhair was already looking pretty rough. “If you name your plants and speak kindly to them, they’ll grow better,” advised my younger daughter, whose thumb had somehow proven much greener than my own. The idea seemed a bit silly to me, but I was willing to give it a try. What did I have to lose? I tried to think of an appropriate name for this poor plant that hung on…

When Kerri Pomarolli (Laughing Matter, page 12) isn’t trying to find California’s best sushi with her daughters, she is on tour nationwide, eating her way across America. And doing stand-up, of course. “After my shows, I sometimes stay until midnight praying with people, and that has become my favorite part,” Kerri says. “I’ve literally seen God do miracles right after a comedy show!” Her Dry Bar Comedy Special is out now on Angel. Look for a TV appearance in 2025 on Making Light of It on It’s Supernatural Network (ISN). She has several feature film projects under way. Her coaching business, Creative Communication Strategies, helps speakers and authors take their careers to the next level, working with people on their writing and punching up speeches, presentations and more. Kerri is the…

“I want [my kids] to have fun…but I also want them to feel that magic of what their faith means to them…to go out, look up at the stars and imagine that star long, long ago.”SAVANNAH GUTHRIE, Today show co-anchor, on her Christmas traditions “Don’t confuse who you are with where you are.”FAITH BROUSSARD CADE, author, speaker and counselor “I always practice with the kids what I practice in my own life: Have a positive attitude, be thankful, try to help others.”PETER WESTBROOK, 1984 Olympic fencing bronze medal winner, whose foundation teaches fencing and life skills to underserved kids in New York City “Every moment [God] gives us is extraordinary. Good moments become good memories. And bad moments, if viewed from the right perspective, become good lessons.”TIM TIMBERLAKE, pastor and author…

The sun was barely up, and I was the only one awake. I sat in the living room with my coffee. Our cat, Sherry, was asleep, curled on top of the box of holiday decorations that I’d lugged down from the attic more than a week ago. Sherry looked peaceful, a relief to see after yesterday’s stressful vet appointment, which had included a biopsy. I sighed. Christmas was only a few weeks away, and I hadn’t even set up our Nativity. With the past weeks of vet visits, worry had taken center stage. I went to the kitchen to top off my coffee, and Sherry woke and followed me in. She was normally an independent, feisty cat, but her failing health had turned her into my shadow. I returned to…

Blue Christmas services are a modern addition to churches’ holiday offerings. It’s thought that they were first held as part of hospice programs sometime in the 1980s. By the 1990s, they had become more common across nearly all denominations. A Blue Christmas service provides a place of respite for those who find the season difficult due to sorrow or loss. People might be hurting because of the death of a loved one, a broken relationship, lost dreams, loneliness, chronic pain or fragile faith. Traditionally, the service is held on the longest night of the year—December 21—but it can be held anytime during Advent. In researching Blue Christmas and talking to ministers, I learned there’s no set way for a service to be held. Put the emphasis on being supportive, encouraging…

That Christmas Eve afternoon, I finished making the deviled eggs and the cranberries for the next day’s brunch. Then I wrapped the last few gifts and put them under the tree. I surveyed the room. It looked festive with the twinkling lights and the candles, and yet nothing about the scene was how I’d pictured myself spending holidays—or living life—in my sixties. Yes, I’d seen a lot of my son, Ryan, his wife and my two adopted grand-daughters in recent days. It always ended the same way. I returned to my new little townhome. Alone. Tired. The holidays used to be my favorite time of year, a time for my family to gather and celebrate Jesus’ birth. Now the season was a bittersweet reminder of how much things had changed.…

The blame game between my husband and me got so out of hand that we had no other choice. We had to hire a live-in butler. His name is Felix. Before you get the wrong idea, Ken and I are not wealthy. Far from it. Still, we’ve shared our home with Felix for several years now. I imagine you think this butler is something else, that he sees to all sorts of household needs with a mere flick of his wrist and an upturned nose. Well, no. Felix is totally inept. There doesn’t seem to be a single task he can’t mess up. He is a walking calamity. Why not fire him, you ask? Never! Felix is one of the best things to ever happen in our marriage. Let me…

“Love it!” my sister exclaimed, dropping her suitcase. It was her first visit to our new house, a 1939 Tudor off Puget Sound. We’d lived in Seattle for years, but with two teenagers and my husband, Rob, working from home, we needed someplace bigger. Summer was my sister’s favorite season in the Pacific Northwest, and so she’d come to see our new home. I pointed to the vintage mail slot in the front door, built with the house. “Love it!” she said. Original plaster walls, picture rails and dark oak trim—“Love it!” Then her eyes caught a figure dressed in a red felt coat at the top of our living room bookshelf. She looked at me quizzically. “Did Santa miss the Christmas box?” “You mean, San-tay?” I said. Santay (rhymes…

I glanced at my phone for the fourth time that morning, in case I’d missed a text from my older daughter, Kennedi, who’d just started college. Nothing. It had been two weeks since my husband and I had driven her to Rutgers University for move-in day. I’d seen her dorm room, met her roommate, then hugged her goodbye. Kennedi was just an hour and a half away. Whenever a few days went by without hearing from her, I found my worries ratcheted up. She might as well have been on the other side of the world. “God, please protect my daughter,” I’d whisper. I had never thought of myself as a helicopter parent, but now I couldn’t help worrying about every possible thing that might befall her. Even writing prayer…

Yet another cheery holiday tune was playing over the radio at the thrift store. I cringed. “Santa’s on His Way,” by George Strait: “Christmas is always my favorite time of year!” Not mine. Not now. I gripped the red plastic handle of my empty shopping basket in one hand and my gift list in the other and stared at the cracked snow globes and chipped mugs among the other castoffs cluttering the shelves. What did I expect to find? This wasn’t Toys “R” Us. It wasn’t even Walmart. This was my last resort. God, I had prayed on the drive here, give us only what we need. That’s all I ask for Christmas. December 23, and I still didn’t have a single present to put under the tree for my…

SOMETHING BIG Christmas was coming, but presents were the last thing on my mind. I was more worried about the mortgage payment. My husband, Randy, hadn’t been able to work for weeks because of a herniated disc, and now his doctor had ordered him to leave his construction job permanently. Even though our money troubles weighed on me, I never talked to anyone about them. Both Randy and I had been brought up to keep our problems at home. It set us apart from a lot of people we knew, who seemed as if they’d be okay with putting their personal problems on billboards. Maybe it was a comfort for them, but I couldn’t share my troubles like that. I didn’t confide in anyone, not even my family. God was…

A LOVING MIRROR Diane Stark’s Feb/Mar 2024 GUIDEPOSTS story “As God Sees Me” struck a chord with me. Negative self-talk seems to be a knee-jerk response for far too many of us. Diane apologizes to her son Nathan after learning that an often-told anecdote of his childhood tantrum makes him feel bad about himself. She invites her son to consider how God sees him. How insightful of Nathan (at only 14 years old!) to then hold up a loving mirror and guide his mother to consider how God sees her. Knowing that we are God’s handiwork might help us stop hurling negativity toward ourselves. Thank you, Diane and Nathan, for reminding us to be kind to everyone—including the person looking back at us from the mirror. JUDI LOGAN Hoschton, Georgia…