Page 322 – Guideposts Articles

Guideposts’ 10 Most Popular Videos of 2019

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by The Digital Editors

1. Kristy Dewberry offers inspiring and helpful advice based on her own experiences caring for a difficult parent who has Alzheimer’s. Dewberry and her mom had a strained relationship for years, but despite the challenges of caregiving, they eventually forged a stronger bond. “At some point, juggling all of this, I realized that after a lifetime of doing everything I could to avoid Mom, I was figuring out how to work with her,” Dewberry wrote in her story in the April 2019 issue of Guideposts.

2. In a Guideposts exclusive, Today show weatherman and co-host Al Roker opens up for the first time about parenting a child with special needs. “Doctors and specialists put him through a slew of tests,” Roker says in the story. “Was it cerebral palsy? Autism? Maybe it was a processing disorder. Now that he’s 17, I can tell you that, yes, he’s somewhere on the spectrum and maybe obsessive-compulsive. But those labels can be frustrating; they don’t begin to describe who Nick really is.” In this video Roker talks about his son’s special connection to their local church, the importance of acceptance when raising a child with special needs and how faith has guided his parenting.

3. Could God be trying to tell you something while you are sleeping? That’s the question this video from the Mysterious Ways magazine team strives to answer. From dreams about deceased loved ones to those foreseeing future healing, this video breaks down the meaning of six spiritually significant dreams.

4. Surgeon and bestselling author Dr. Mary C. Neal recounts in detail the near-death experience she went through in 1999. When a kayaking accident left her submerged under eight to ten feet of water, she realized she was probably going to drown. Instead, she had a divine encounter. “I had no intention of returning, because I felt like I was absolutely home where we all belong,” Dr. Neal said.

Read Dr. Mary C. Neal’s inspiring story from the July 2012 issue of Guideposts.

5. Before he and Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon’s surface during the Apollo 11 moon landing, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin led the astronauts in a Christian sacrament: taking communion. In this moving video, Aldrin explains why this ritual was important to him, and what it meant to him to celebrate communion in space.

Read more about Aldrin’s spiritual journey into space in his story from the October 1970 issue of Guideposts.

6. All Rachel Webb Turner wanted to do was find a way to communicate with her son, Wesley, who is on the autism spectrum. Despite her husband’s allergy and her own reservations, Turner brought home a dog, hoping it would open her son up to the world. But could a dog really help?

Like this video? Read more about Turner’s story in the October 2019 issue of Guideposts.

7. In our exclusive video, ESPN reporter Lauren Sisler shares how acknowledging her parents’ addictions allowed her to come to terms with their deaths. “It was tough telling people what had happened to my parents,” Sisler says in the video. “And I think the biggest reason, is because I wasn’t honest with how they passed away. I was so ashamed of knowing that both of them had overdosed on prescription drugs.”

8. Mark Porter and his brother were searching for alligator eggs in a swamp when their boat broke down and left them trapped in a swarm of killer bees. “I thought, I’ve lived a good life on this Earth. If it’s my time, it’s my time,” Porter shares in the story. Porter was certain they would not make it out alive, but then he heard a mysteriously familiar voice give him the direction he needed to escape. In this exclusive video, Porter shares who it was he thinks offered a helping hand from heaven.

9. A licensed wildlife rehabilitator, Dot Lee, was afraid the injured raccoon in her care would never recover. But then one kick changed everything, including the trajectory or her life.

10. Guideposts staffer Andrew Kessler shares his personal experience of encountering a spiritual presence in nature. In this video he offers tips for finding “thin places”—rare sacred spaces where the veil between this world and the next is thin. “I like to say that your thin places might not have Yelp reviews written about them,” Kessler shares. “So they really can be very close to home. You just have to know where to look.”

Gratitude is the Key to a Well-Lived Life

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by D.A. Sherron

For most of us, the holiday season brings a sense of excitement and reflection. Memories began to fill our hearts and minds from the smell of the food, the fun, and the precious time spent with family. However, it is a lot more difficult to find joy when you’ve encountered a season of despair and disappointment. All of us can attest that 2020 has been a year full of surprises. Many of us never imagined that life could be like this. But despite all that has transpired this year, I believe that we must search for an even greater sense of peace and gratitude when we partake in our yearly festivities.

This year, I have been so refreshed and inspired by the simple passage in 1 Thessalonians 5:18: “in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” This verse has touched me tremendously because it has allowed me to understand that even when I face highs and lows, gratitude is a gift from God. With this in mind, I have come to realize that I am grateful because of what God has done for me, through me, and in me. Instead of seeing gratitude as a response to what I have or don’t have, I now see it as a response to God’s faithfulness in my life, even when I didn’t feel like I deserved it. Gratitude begins with God and from there it begins to spread into every area and facet of our lives. How does this happen? I’d like to unpack a few simple keys to maintaining your gratitude, even during difficult times.

Remember past blessings. First, we must remember to be grateful for past blessings. Every time I reflect on the goodness of God during a test or an unexpected situation, I am filled with an immense sense of gratitude. Isaiah 25:1 reminds us, “I will praise your name for you have done wonderful things.” Recently, I was in a meeting and before the meeting began, the moderator asked everyone to share what he called a “glory story.” Despite all that we’ve endured during a pandemic, what’s your glory story? What is something wonderful that has happened this year despite all of the bad news we’ve experienced? When we focus on past blessings, we remember how God continues to answer our prayers. This inspires faith and brings new hope.

Make gratitude a daily practice. Secondly, we must be grateful for present blessings. In our world today, many believe that they have nothing to praise God for. But all it takes is a casual look into where you are right now to see how his hand of provision continues to keep us despite these difficult circumstances. I would encourage you to make a list. Write down the blessings that are yours: life, family, friendships, church, home, etc. Think about all of them. Allow this gratitude to create a positive outlook. Reach out to a loved one on FaceTime, help out a neighbor or friend in need, look to share with others about the goodness of God. Sometimes when my family and I go out to dinner, I’ll say to myself, “Who can I bless today?” Whether it’s an encouraging word or a few extra dollars for the waiter, I am also in a posture to be a blessing. Try it today! It only takes a spark to get a fire going, but once it starts—it’s contagious!

Look to the future. Lastly, we must be grateful for potential blessings. This is extremely important. We must always remember that great things lie ahead! Begin expecting the best. As we embark upon a new year in a few weeks, look to the future with faith and anticipation. Keep seeking, reaching, and expecting the best for your future. This requires praise! Praise God for what He has done, what He is doing and what He is going to do, and you will find gratitude rising out of your heart every single day. This is key to a well-lived life.

Grand Central Cathedral

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Edward Grinnan

My favorite cathedral in New York City is not St. Pat’s or St. John’s. My favorite New York cathedral is Grand Central station.

No, you’re right, it’s not exactly a church but it is a kind of basilica of humanity, both a terminus and a crossroads for upwards of a million people a day. And there is no place I like to visit more than Grand Central.

My first experience of it was the night before Thanksgiving—the most insane travel night of the year—when I came down from school in New Haven to visit my hospitalized uncle before hopping a plane to Detroit to see the rest of my family (Uncle Eddie was in the city being treated for cancer at Doctors Hospital on the Upper East Side—he survived and is still alive some 30 years later).

It was chaos and madness and I loved the hordes of people, the energy and excitement, the subways arriving from all over the city, the trains from all over the country and the people from all over the world.

I remember my first look at the dazzling jeweled clock above the information booth and the huge, wide angle Kodak sign that then dominated the east side of the great concourse. And I remember looking up at the magnificent ceiling and practically being trampled as I stood there in open-mouthed awe.

I moved to New York a few years later and Grand Central was my office. My roommate at the time was always fighting with his girlfriend so the station became a kind of haven where I could follow up on job leads using the endless banks of pay phones, had plenty of access to cheap hot dogs and fat hot pretzels, and a place to sit and read the paper or just watch the people. I could spend the whole day.

Later, when I finally landed a job, I made sure to cut through the station on my way to the office, going off course a bit just to stay connected. I remember walking a girlfriend to one of the last departing commuter trains and saying goodnight on the platform, waiting till just before the doors closed.

Grand Central is full of secrets. The aforementioned clock could be worth as much as $10 million because of its four opal faces. Deep beneath the Beaux Arts structure is a cavernous machine shop and further uptown below the Waldorph-Astoria is a private rail station used by FDR when he would come up from Washington.

Then there’s the whispering gallery adjacent the Oyster Bar (one of New York’s great old dining institutions) where a hushly spoken word can be clearly heard 40 feet away. The Guastavino tile that covers the vaulted ceiling magically carries the sound.

My favorite secret is the one I recently learned about—all departure times listed on the giant boards are one minute early. Trains leave promptly on schedule one minute after the posted time, a kind of grace period for tardy commuters. Time is not what it seems in Grand Central.

No doubt the most celebrated architectural aspect of the station—technically it’s a terminal and not a station, since most train runs terminate there—is the vast ceiling arching above the concourse, upon which the constellations of the zodiac appear. It’s a glorious depiction of the heavens, except for one little thing: it’s backwards. The artist transposed the celestial map. This cosmic mistake was noticed almost immediately after the station opened and the Vanderbilt family—who were to railroads what Bill Gates is to operating systems today—was extremely embarrassed. So they concocted a quick cover story: the backwards ceiling was meant to be a God’s-eye view of the cosmos. Right. Except the story was so much better than the truth that it has come to be accepted as fact.

What I think of most when I think of Grand Central is movement, swirling masses of humanity funneled through this gorgeous piece of 100-year-old architecture that has seen our city through good times and bad. There is something about the place that stirs the soul and fires the imagination, a sense that it is the heartbeat of a great metropolis.

It is hard to believe that the whole thing was nearly torn down in the early 1970s to make way for a new station, similar to the vulgar insult to the dignity of all New Yorkers that supplanted Penn Station on the west side in the 1960s.

Thanks to Jackie O and friends Grand Central was saved and gradually, lovingly, restored to its original glory (they ditched the Kodak sign that I kind of liked).

In the ’90s the heavenly ceiling was finally cleaned of decades of dirt…what a magnificent unveiling it was! They decided, however, to leave one tiny patch of the reversed sky untouched, as a reminder of what time and grime can do. And as a kind of tribute too, I think, to the staying power of a great cathedral.

That’s my story. What’s yours? Do you have a favorite spot in a favorite city? I’d love to hear about it.

Edward Grinnan is Editor-in-Chief and Vice President of GUIDEPOSTS Publications.

Graduation Inspiration

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Edward Grinnan

I couldn’t help noticing something on the dashboard of the cab I was riding in this broiling afternoon in late June: a big snapshot of a college grad, with mortarboard and gown, holding a diploma, smiling proudly, maybe the driver’s son. I couldn’t actually see my driver through the grimy Plexiglas partition so I leaned forward, pointing at the picture.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Your son?”

“No,” he answered, “that’s me.”

I felt kind of a lump in my throat. But he didn’t seem embarrassed or sad, so why should I? I was able to get a better look at him: middle-aged, Middle Eastern.

The photo was a message: I’m not just some dumb taxicab driver. I went to school. I am accomplished. It was right below his hack license photo so more observant riders than I would make the connection without asking. The photo was also a reminder, I imagine, to the driver himself: You are somebody. You have an education. You came to this country willing to do anything to better the life of your family.

The end of graduation season is here. All spring I’ve seen graduates strolling proudly around the city in their caps and gowns, trailed by excited parents and admiring younger siblings. One of the great things about June is its celebration of education and the recognition of its paramount importance in our lives.

An education is one of the great honors in life and I sometimes forget how unbelievably grateful I should be for mine. I should be down on my knees thanking God for the opportunities it has given me. My education—and my teachers—are as much responsible for what I have achieved in life as I am.

If you can’t look back over your life and see at least a couple of teachers who made all the difference in how you see the world and yourself, I would be very surprised. I remember my teachers. That’s how I remember what I learned. And those days when I crossed a stage, received my diploma and flipped my tassel are moments in time that defined me.

There is nothing as valuable as an education, nothing more deserving of respect. That’s what my cabbie was saying. That’s what I needed to remind myself of. That’s what June is all about. As I paid the fare he turned around.

“Want to see my sons?”

He flipped open the glove compartment. Taped to the inside were snapshots of four young men, all in caps and gowns, all smiling with a familiar pride, holding diplomas.

I shook the driver’s hand and said, “Thank you. It was an honor to ride in your cab.”

Got a Question About Love?

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Diana Aydin

Love is one of those things that constantly baffles me, right up there with the questionable nature of chocolate (why does something that tastes so good have to have so many calories?!).

I suppose my wonder about love started at a young age when I first encountered a pair of real-life soul mates. My parents. They met in the first grade in Turkey, ended up separated by thousands of miles and reunited after a chance encounter. My dad says he knew my mom was “the one” even back in the first grade.

I always assumed I’d meet my future husband in similar fairy-tale fashion. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened…at least not yet. And so I continue to wonder about love.

That’s one reason I was so thrilled to find out my colleague Dan Hoffman will be interviewing Dr. Paulette Sherman, a clinical psychologist and true love expert, for a special video Q&A on Guideposts.org.

Dr. Sherman will be answering questions from readers when she stops by the office. And, since I’m an avid Mysterious Ways reader, I guess that includes me!

Here are some head-scratchers I’d love to get some answers to:

Do soul mates really exist?
Can you have more than one soul mate? If so, what happens in Heaven? (That’s just one of the many questions I had after seeing the movie Titanic for the first time in the 9th grade!)
Will your soul mate always find you, no matter what?
Can we do anything on our part to increase our chances of finding a soul mate? Or is that strictly “God territory”?
How do you know if you’ve met your soul mate?
Why do some people get soul mates and others don’t?

What about you? What questions would you add to the list?

Ask away in the comments below or on Facebook for a chance to have your love questions answered by Dr. Sherman this month.

God’s Love Makes a Difference

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Pablo Diaz

When our children were young, my wife and I wanted them to know just how much we would always love them. Our goal was for them to feel loved so that they, too, could learn to love others. Now that they are older, we still show them love, and we know that they, too, love us and others in the same way.

Over time, I have discovered that when people are not shown love throughout their lives, they find it difficult to express it or feel it for others.

My father-in-law always struggled to show his children love, but once I learned that both of his parents passed away when he was 12, I felt compassion for him. Unfortunately, his struggles had consequences for his children; they missed out on their father’s love.

I wonder how it would have changed his perspective if he had ever experienced God’s love for him? Does God’s love make a difference? I know it does. When we experience God’s love, we never feel alone or ignored again. He loves us unconditionally.

Mother Teresa said, “When you know how much God is in love with you, then you can only live your life radiating that love.” When we understand this and recognize how much God loves us in spite of our faults, sins, imperfections, rough edges, selfishness, ego and more, we can live a life that radiates love. What amazes you about God’s love? Please share with us.

Lord, may we live a life that radiates Your love to all.

God Blessed This Bike Shop Owner with a New Path

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Jim Hinch

Remember when you learned to ride a bike? George Turner, 48, owner of Penuel Bicycles in Inglewood, California, talks with reverence about his childhood BMX dirt bike. “It was freedom,” he says. “I did whatever it took to get on that bike, as long as I was home by dark.” George and his friends rode to the beach, the mall and construction sites, where they wedged through fences and dared one another to ride over huge dirt mounds and other obstacles.

Home meant chores, homework, annoying siblings, dressing up for church. A bike meant escape.

George transformed that reverence into a livelihood. He opened his neighborhood bicycle shop in 2010. Before that, he had worked for years slinging boxes for FedEx while selling bike gear and accessories online.

The store fulfilled a lifelong dream. George named it Penuel Bicycles because Penuel is the name of the place where Jacob wrestles with the angel in the book of Genesis. George had been wrestling over his future. Spend the rest of his life working for someone else? Or pursue his true love?

Many people harness their passion and start a business. Roughly 60 percent of those businesses close after less than a decade, according to the Small Business Administration.

Ten years after opening his shop, George feared he was about to join that 60 percent. Penuel, it turned out, was the place where George struggled after he opened his business. It was also where he learned about God’s business: redemption of what seems irretrievably broken.

Penuel Bicycles is a one-room shop on a busy commercial strip some 10 miles from Hollywood but a world away from the limelight. There are rows of bikes as well as parts and gear for sale, plus a small repair area behind the counter.

Inglewood is a working-class city with a diverse population. Historically, the city was a center of L.A.’s Black community. Today nearly a third of residents were born outside the United States, and half speak a language other than English at home.

“Bicycles kept me out of trouble,” George remembers. “They were part of my life.”

He figured that was still true for kids when he opened Penuel. Growing up, George had worked at a bike shop on weekends so he could afford accessories for his own bike.

As an adult, he rode racing and mountain bikes up and down L.A. County’s 22-mile beach bike path and on nearby hill trails. After marrying 15 years ago, he taught his three kids to ride bikes.

George opened Penuel expecting parents to crowd inside, eager to buy shiny new bikes for their kids. He looked forward to helping boys and girls discover the joy of riding—and stay out of trouble—just as he had. He dreamed of a community gathering place where people could meet for rides and embrace a healthy outdoor lifestyle.

None of that happened.

Kids these days, George learned, have a new love. “Kids don’t want a bike for Christmas and their birthday,” he says. “Now life is about playing video games or with their phone. Instead of getting out and riding, they have the electronic babysitter.”

When kids don’t ride, their parents tend not to ride. Also, many riders in George’s part of Los Angeles commute to jobs at restaurants or warehouses on used bikes. They might come to the shop for repairs but not to buy a brand-new bike.

A low point came one day when George visited his son’s elementary school to give a demonstration about bicycle basics. He asked students how many of them owned a bike. One boy raised his hand: George’s son. “They put him in the school newspaper because he knew how to ride a bike,” George says.

Bike shops in wealthier neighborhoods rely on customers willing to spend thousands of dollars on a high-end racing bike. Other stores join chains that are owned by big-budget bicycle manufacturers.

George struggled. Some days, he celebrated if he sold just one bike. At the end of 2019, he asked his pastor to pray for him.

The pastor gave George a searching look. Then he said, “God is going to bless your business in ways that you would never have imagined.”

George was too polite to disagree. But—really? His pastor knew nothing about the bicycle business. “I was thinking I might have to close this thing up,” George says. “It was not going well at all.”

Three months later, the coronavirus pandemic shut down the nation. George closed Penuel’s doors, put his few employees on hiatus and went home to hunker down.

Bless my business? he wondered.

A few weeks later, he learned that bicycle shops had been classified as essential businesses. Restless at home, he reopened the shop in hopes he might at least get some repair work.

One day, a man walked into the shop. “I’m looking for a bike,” he said. “I’ll pay cash.” He picked out the most expensive bike in the store and put $8,900 on the counter.

Stunned, George hurried to the ATM to deposit the money. He used it to pay that month’s rent.

The phone started ringing. “Do you have any bikes left? I’m in Beverly Hills. I’ll drive there.”

Isolated at home and desperate for something to do, pandemic-weary Americans were buying bicycles. Bike shops nationwide sold out. Many customers searching for out-of-the-way stores found Penuel.

People in his neighborhood pulled their old bikes out of the garage or the basement and wheeled them to Penuel to get repaired and ready to ride. “I had to wear long sleeves to work on those bikes,” George recalls. “They had spiders!”

George sold out of bicycles in a month. He ordered what he could to meet customer demand and turned to fixing and tuning up all the bikes that people suddenly were riding. “I went from repairing one bike a day to repairing 30 bikes,” George says. Many days, he worked from 4:30 a.m. to midnight.

Out on his own bike, George saw riders everywhere. Suddenly his long-cherished vision of a community on their bikes, enjoying the freedom of two wheels, was coming true. Bicycles became a rare source of solace during a time of tragedy and loss.

God didn’t just bless George’s shop. He made Penuel Bicycles a truly essential business.

George says he’s still trying to fill orders. Backlogged supply chains have kept bicycles and parts hard to find.

When pandemic restrictions are fully lifted, he intends to start that community bicycle club he’s long envisioned. He hopes to recruit more people to a mountain bike club he already established.

In the Bible, Jacob and the angel wrestle through the night at Penuel. At last God gives Jacob his blessing.

George is determined to make the most of God’s gift. “Bicycles are my life,” he says. “I’ll never stop trying to share that.”

For more inspiring stories, subscribe to Guideposts magazine.

Glimmers of God’s Grace

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Michelle Cox

My husband is a strange man. He actually likes getting up early in the morning. Not this gal. I am so not a morning person! The house is quiet after my husband goes to bed, so I often stay up writing until the wee hours, and then I sleep in a bit the next morning to make up for it.

But on those mornings when I do get up early, I love to grab a cup of hot tea and stand at the glass doors in our kitchen, waiting for the light show God puts on each morning in the woods and meadow behind our house.

It’s so beautiful as the sun starts to peek between the trees on the left side of our land. And then as I watch, it progresses across the meadow, lovely glimmers of light shining through until it’s all lit up for the day. That makes me smile because it always feels like God is saying, “Good morning, Michelle.”

God does “glimmers” well. And each time I see His wake-up show with the sun peeking through the trees, I’m reminded of how often He’s sent glimmers of grace into my life. I thought I’d share some of those sweet peeks with you:

1) I don’t have to pay for His grace.
For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: (Ephesians 2:8)

2) I don’t have to be hesitant about asking for grace.
Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:16)

3) His grace provides strength.
Thou therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. (2 Timothy 2:1)

4) His grace is enough for all that I face.
And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

So, today, I’m grateful for the “glimmers” in my life—the sheer beauty of the show as His light peeks through the trees and the sheer wonder of His grace as it shines into my life each day.

What glimmers of His grace can you discover today? Please share in the comments field below.

Finding the Poetry in Everyday Life

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Jacqueline Suskin

There’s a saying: “Be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle.” These days, the battle feels especially hard. From everyday challenges to the forces dividing our nation, it’s fair to ask: How can I bring more joy to my life? More peace?

My answer: poetry.

I’m a professional poet. For a decade, I earned a living doing a project I called Poem Store. I set up my typewriter in farmers’ markets and other public places and wrote poems on the spot for anyone who asked. I also did private events. In total, I wrote more than 40,000 poems!

I now teach poetry workshops, lead creative retreats and write books. Everywhere I go, I see a hunger for the unique gift that poetry provides.

Do you remember a story I wrote a few years ago for Guideposts about how poetry can be a vital part of someone’s prayer practice? A couple years before that, I wrote about how a Poem Store encounter led to an unlikely and life-giving friendship.

What is it about poetry that makes it such a powerful, universal language?

Poetry reveals beauty in the smallest details of creation. It finds light in the darkest shadow. It is a guide and a teacher, reminding readers that life is a miracle, something to be celebrated. Good poetry tells deep truths about joy and pain, triumph and grief. Like the Psalms, poetry explores every aspect of human experience, shying away from nothing and expressing gratitude for everything.

That’s why I believe poetry can be healing for anyone. You don’t have to be a professional poet.

Here are some suggestions for cultivating a poetic mindset, gained from a lifetime of writing, teaching and finding my place on this planet:

1. Be in awe of everything.

A dictionary definition of awe is “a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.”

Reverence, fear and wonder are pillars of the poetic mindset. Reverence for the gift of life and the giver. Fear of loss and impermanence. Wonder at the world’s majesty and beauty.

The poetic mindset starts with the idea that nothing is an accident. Everything is interrelated and plays a part in a greater whole. Therefore, everything deserves notice and even celebration.

The signs are everywhere. Autumn leaves swirling in wind. A luminous raindrop on your window. The sight of someone you love peacefully asleep. Stars on a clear winter night.

Even on your hardest day, a glance around will reveal something miraculous. When I focus on the intricate grandeur of nature, I feel myself relax. My mind unclenches from my problems, and I know that something larger is present, no matter what happens.

Here are a few lines from a poem I wrote about awe:

The breeze carries the scent of saltwater
and I tune into four different bird
calls at once.
One is a hummingbird. I can hear it!
The crows wake me up. It’s spring
and all
new growth can’t help but point
toward the light.

Awe is easy to cultivate. Close your eyes. Now open them. What is the first thing you see? Look closer. Ask yourself: How was this thing made? Where did it come from? What does it look like, feel like, smell like, maybe even taste like? What is good about it? What does it remind you of? Does it bring happy thoughts or sad ones? Why? What does it tell you about yourself or the divine?

I’m willing to bet your randomly selected object is full of meaning. A poetic mindset helps you tune into that significance whenever you want. It’s an inexhaustible source of healing, refreshment and inspiration.

2. Make pain your teacher.

Are you brokenhearted and angry? There’s a poem for that.

A poem is a place where you can pour out your hardest feelings. Make the words shout, burn. Don’t be afraid. You can always throw the page into the fireplace once you’ve filled it. Or seal it in an envelope and come back to it later.

Poetry can be a repository for everything difficult in your life.

But there’s more. I find that when I write about something I’m struggling with, my negative feelings begin to ebb. By writing, remembering, I am forced to admit that not everything is so bad. The world is complicated. There is darkness and light. Forgiveness comes into view.

The more I put everything on the page—the whole truth, not just an edited version—the more I ask why things happened. If I could have done things differently. Whether my poem is trying to teach me something. Here’s part of a poem I wrote while I was grieving a loved one.

You were a shining man
always giving us a reason to rejoice
and so you still are, you always will be.

Writing about grief helped me widen my perspective. I learned that memories are emblems of ongoing life after death. That doesn’t end my grief. My grief teaches me a healing truth.

3. Seek what inspires you.

Life isn’t perfect, but you can live with love and trust anyway.

Poetry helps us remember this essential piece of wisdom. What comes from God is good, and there is always goodness to be found once you train yourself to look.

Poetry to me is a form of praise. I build poems from things I see, people I meet and thoughts and feelings found deep inside. As I present those treasures in poetic language, I am celebrating what is good in them. My poems have an innate optimism. Poetry looks for the bright side of life, whatever is inspiring and beautiful even in the midst of hardship.

To see the world as a poet is to be aware of beauty wherever you go. A poet believes that beauty is a clue to the essential nature of existence. Pay attention to that feeling of joy as you spot a delicate tracery of dew in a spider’s web on your morning walk. The beauty, and your joy, are helping you see something deeply true about life.

I wake up at dawn and find
The half moon staring in my window,
as bright as the coming sun.
What can I do but sing to honor it?
I stand on the porch and the notes
come easy, all glory for the glowing
green, gray, blue of landscape.
What else is good? Your dark eyes
that won’t look away from mine.
The worn wool blanket that
keeps us warm. The pink flowers
that have yet to open in the grass.
I watch as the white light
is swallowed in fog, the apple tree
hung with glittering dew.

4. Open yourself to a new perspective.

Few objects are more humble than the pencil. Yet, for me, a pencil is holy. Every pencil is special because I imagine the thoughts and images that it can be used to create and communicate. What are the holy objects in your life? A poet looks for what is beloved in everything, no matter how ordinary.

That is what makes poetry a force for healing. When you look for what is beautiful, good, true and holy in everything around you, you are really looking for God. When you write down what you see, you are engaged in a deep form of prayer.

When your mind and your heart develop this habit of poetic prayer, you cannot be overcome by the world’s troubles because you carry a treasury of goodness inside yourself.

Your poems don’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to rhyme. They don’t have to impress anyone. All they need is a new perspective, that of a poetic mindset.

Look for what moves you most, and then write it down. Make that a daily habit.

Welcome to the poetry of everyday life.

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Finding Peace in an Outdoor Sanctuary

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Michelle Cox

Our deck has been my outdoor sanctuary. It’s my favorite place to write and I love having my quiet time out there. God’s presence just seems extra close when I’m surrounded by His creation.

We live out in the country and have woods on three sides of our home so it’s private out there, and I love that I can look up from my computer and see deer nibbling at the salt block that my husband puts out in the field for them and turkey mamas with dozens of little ones scampering across the meadow. Some days it sounds like a bird choir has taken up residence, their sweet trills and whistles echoing through the woods.

It’s been delightful and so peaceful working out there—well, other than the blue-tailed lizard that fell off the roof and almost landed on my lap (I don’t like anything that slithers!), the hornet that chased me around the deck and wouldn’t give up until I could finally dash into the house, and the hummingbird that liked to swoop at my head for some reason. Those were just little blips along the way that are funny now that they’re over.

But an occurrence early yesterday evening shook up my it’s-always-so-peaceful-out-on-the-deck feelings. My husband pulled down our driveway and saw a BOBCAT running down our deck stairs.

A bobcat! Up on the deck where my grandbabies play when they come for a visit. Where I often am home alone working at a table a good distance away from the kitchen door. Yeah, the always peaceful feeling out there has now been replaced with, “Where is ‘Bob?’” Yikes!

You know, sweet friends, life often does us the same way. Things will be going well for us. Our days will be full of joy and peace, and then—BAM!—something happens that fills us with fear or it rocks our world.

Maybe it’s one of “those” phone calls from the doctor’s office, or the loss of a job, or a child who wanders away from us and God. And, suddenly, peace is nowhere to be found.

That’s why I’m so grateful for God’s sweet promises in His Word and for His peace that truly does pass all understanding. He says it best:

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.—Isaiah 26:3

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.—John 16:33

Now the Lord of peace himself give you peace always by all means. The Lord [be] with you all.—2 Thessalonians 3:16

I’m so thankful for a God who gives us peace and who is with us at all times—even when “Bob” comes for an unexpected visit.

Finding God in the Most Surprising Place

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Rick Hamlin

I wasn’t really on a pilgrimage. I was in Louisville, Kentucky, for work. A workshop with some of our writers for Guideposts. I got there on Friday afternoon and headed out for a walk. That was when I remembered I wanted to check out a spot downtown.

I wanted to see this spot because of an epiphany. Epiphany. It’s not a word we use a lot, certainly not one you’d associate with busy streets, neon signs, people hurrying about, looking for places to eat, to shop, to park. It’s a revelation, a God moment, an instance when the humdrum looks holy.

One of my favorite spiritual writers, one of great insight and genius, had an epiphany here in downtown Louisville on the corner of what was then Fourth and Walnut. Thomas Merton was a monk of a Trappist order and had left the world to find God in the solitude and rigors of a monastery.

Then one day he’d come into town to run some errands—all that mundane stuff we do—and he had an epiphany about the people, none of them particularly holy, rushing around him. As he later wrote:

“I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness…”

To buy a copy of Rick’s latest book, Prayer Works, click here.

He felt the strange joy of being “a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate.” If only he could share that. If only everyone else could realize it. “There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”

I found the spot where he had his epiphany. There is a plaque there and Walnut is now named for another famous person from Louisville, Mohammed Ali. But you wouldn’t think of it as a God place. No church, no altar, no cross, no singing choir, no holy incense. Just busyness.

And God. I stood there and smiled. I wanted to wave at everybody. Maybe I could sing that song “This little light of mine” to remind them that they were shining like the sun. That we all were—even if we didn’t look any brighter than the neon sign above.

I often have the urge to be like Merton and hole myself up with holy books and prayers and exalted Christian community. But after doing that for 18 years with impressive results Merton discovered that God was right here. In other people. Not monks, not priests, not nuns. People like us.

“You are the light of the world,” Jesus said. We all are. Walking around shining like the sun.

Finding God in a Painful Place

Posted on March 10, 2026April 10, 2026 by Shawnelle Eliasen

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in sprit. (Psalm 34:18; NIV)

It was about a month ago that we learned that our girl greyhound, Sis, had bone cancer. A month of medication. A month of holding her while she whimpered. A month of learning that the best thing for her was to let her go.

“I can’t believe she’s not here,” I whisper into Lonny’s shoulder. We’re in bed but the lamplight is on. Lonny’s arms are warm and familiar, but this feeling, the ache of loss, is not. I’ve just tucked our three youngest in bed. Little boys wresting with a big hurt.

Sis had come from the track and had moved deep into our hearts.

“I know,” he says. His arms pull me close. I listen for Sis’s breath beside our bed. There’s only Flash, our boy greyhound. I don’t want to peer over the edge to look at him.

There’s sadness in his eyes, too. So we sit quiet for a long while, not wanting to push words into the near-darkness. If the words begin to flow, so will the pain.

Logan, our oldest son, had called from college earlier in the evening.

“If she only had a short time to be loved,” he’d said, “I’m glad she was loved by you.”

The sentiment had made me smile, but in truth, I was blessed to have been loved by Sis. She came to us timid and afraid. But in two years she’d blossomed. She’d learned to love and trust and had become a beautiful, thriving creature. She was a treasure unveiled.

And now she was gone.

“Mama,” a voice comes from the hall, pulling my thoughts from a tender place. “I can’t sleep. Is it okay to come in?”

Zay’s head pokes around the corner. His hair is wild and I can tell he tried to sleep. I nod and he rushes in, settling into a warm place between Lonny and me.

But soon there’s another voice.

“Mom,” Gabe says. “I’m sad. I just can’t sleep.” He shuffles in and stands beside the bed. His eyes are red. His pajama top doesn’t match the bottoms and this pulls my heart.

“Come on up,” I say.

He nestles in beside Zay, close against my side. A breath later, Samuel appears. And shortly after that, it’s 17-year-old Grant.

“Do you care if I hang out?” he asks. He sprawls at the end of the bed, legs hanging over and arms tucked behind his head. He stares at the ceiling, and I know he’s hurting, too.

And for a while it’s silent. And then the silence gives way to words.

“She put her head on my lap,” Gabe says, “when she wanted to rest.”

“Her eyes were so brown,” Zay says. “She was gentle like a deer.”

Soon the family is reminiscing. Remembering. And as I listen, something inside me opens, too. We share memories that make us laugh out loud. We share tender things that make us cry. We share until the green digital numbers on our clock tell us that an hour has gone by. Then we share some more.

And I consider, in this sweet circle of family gathered tight on this one bed, that in this world death is a part of life, but the Lord doesn’t leave us alone in this pain. He counts our tears. He binds our wounds. He comes near to the brokenhearted.

And in this moment, His love is powerfully present.

The hour is late. The boys grow tired. Sis is a memory. We hold images of her stretched under the old maple. Curled beside my boys. Running so fast we half thought she’d fly.

But the Lord is here.

Bringing fullness to what was empty.

And grace to this painful thing.

Thank you, God, for the time we had with Sissy. And thank you for gathering us together. For being with us now. Amen.

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