Guest Blogger ... Evie Poythress

A Testimony of God’s Sovereign Work In My Life

I stumbled into my first head injury when I was three years old; escalators and I have never been friends since. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea after that for me to take gymnastics class, but that was where I fell into my second head injury. I was ten.

I have been seeking treatment for chronic headaches ever since I was eight. Numerous doctors in various fields have attempted to come to an acceptable explanation for the pain in my head, but to no avail, and I am now committed to avoiding most strenuous activities and sports. I don’t remember what it was like to live without headaches.



Because the migraines frequently cause intense nausea, my stomach "broke," so to speak, around the end of 2005. After many tests and hospital visits, I was diagnosed with acute Gastro-Esophageal Reflux Disorder and a Hiatal Hernia. I had stomach surgery and the recovery from this took about nine weeks. While the surgeon was working on me, he accidentally damaged a pressure-point connected to the nerves in my left shoulder. This means that I daily experience extreme red-hot pain inside the ball joint of this shoulder, which increases/decreases with every breath. Some side-effects of this operation are that I must chew everything very well, I only eat small amounts of easily digestible foods, and I am no longer capable of throwing up, unless under a great amount of physical stress and pain – which is not as nice a side-effect as you might think at first.

I wandered the road of bitterness for three years when God determined the time had come to break this daughter of His. The combination of intense spiritual agony brought on by angrily running from God, the constant throbbing headache, and the loneliness of not being willing to seek out godly guidance finally brought me to a place where all of my own strength and pride failed. One night, I fell on my face before God on my bedroom floor and admitted that because of my sin and disobedience, I deserved more than pain; I deserved death! That even if all my physical pain went away, I would still be just as wretched and miserable and in need the saving blood of Christ; a Savior greater than what mere man could offer.

For the last several years, I have not had an end to my trials, but I have found that my difficulties in this life are truly blessings from God, meant to make me more like His Son, and to bring God glory. My body is much more ill now, but my soul is so much healthier. I would not choose to go back and exchange my health of years ago with my health of today, because, through the pain and trials, I have learned that my relationship with Christ greatly outweighs any suffering in this world.

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Evie Poythress lives in Vancouver, WA, with her husband. They were married just 4 months ago, and she is enjoying this new season of blessings and lessons. Her health continues to be a trial, but through the stuggles she is daily seeing that the Lord is the giver of limitless mercy and grace to his children.

Guest Blogger ... Patricia Crisafulli

In the Palm of God's Hand

I got off the train with a heavy heart and too much on my mind: new projects to start, old ones to complete, and questions of whether there was enough time. But if I am going to tell the truth here, I was weighed down emotionally by a negative review that had been posted on Amazon.com about my latest book. The reader called it poorly written and repetitive. Ouch!
Now, every book has its fans and naysayers. There have been books that I’ve loved and others have not, and vice versa. But this review about my book being poorly written and repetitive really got to me as a writer. Much second-guessing ensued: should I have written it with a summary at the start of every chapter, which was followed by a discussion, section by section. Did I summarize too much?
Yes, I had a bruised ego, but it was more than that. Suddenly, I was back being the straight-A student perfectionist who equated “wrong” with “bad.” I was suffering a mini crisis of confidence.
Then I got into the cab.
Leaving the train station, I had walked to the front of the cab line to take the taxi waiting there. When I approached, I could see the driver was reading. When he looked up at me and smiled, motioning to get in, I could see the book was a Bible.
As I gave the driver the address of the restaurant where I was meeting a potential new client, I read the handwritten sign he had posted on the Plexiglas shield between us. The sign was a quote from Jesus in John 14: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.”
I read the sign three times, feeling the words soak into me like water. Without judgment, explanation, or rationalization as to why I felt so bad, I admitted that my heart was troubled and asked God to guide me through the day.
“Thank you for posting this beautiful quote,” I said to the driver through an opening in the shield that separated us.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at me, and began to speak gently about how difficult it is for us to trust God even though “He has the whole world in His hands.” I heard the cadence of his African accent, and guessed he might have been from Ghana. I thought back on my own trip to West Africa twenty years ago, and remembered how easily people spoke of faith, even to strangers.
The driver and I talked and laughed all the way to my destination. When we arrived, we were encouraged by each other. I was certainly in a better mood than I otherwise would have been (which no doubt contributed to a very positive outcome to my meeting). In fact, by the end of the day, a beautiful review about the book would be posted and more positive feedback would make its way to me. But in that moment, at the curb outside the restaurant, I had the memory of a negative review and the balm of God’s promise to soothe our troubled hearts.
All of us ride in the palm of God’s hand, through good times and bad. And sometimes that loving embrace feels like the back seat of a taxi cab.
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Patricia Crisafulli is a writer and published author of two non-fiction
books, including the best-selling book, The House of Dimon (a profile of
JPMorgan CEO Jamie Dimon). She is also the founder of
www.FaithHopeandFiction.com, a free monthly e-literary magazine.

Guest Blogger ... Lori Kasbeer

Why Mentoring Other Women Matters

I would not be writing this today if it were not for her. A role model is defined as someone whose character, life, and behavior, is taken as a good example to follow. I am blessed to have several role models throughout my lifetime: my grandmother, my mother, and aunts who lived their lives setting a good example. All of these ladies play a significant role in my life and I was very close to all of them, but Gladys came into my life when I was young mother living far away from family.

Within my church was a ministry where retired-aged women delivered a bible to young mothers who recently had a new baby. Soon after the birth of my second child, and missing my own family terribly, Gladys showed up at my apartment doorstep holding a new bible. My first reaction was embarrassment, because my house was a mess and I was still in my nightgown. Gladys not fazed by the chaos, walked right in to deliver the new bible. After visiting she sat and asked to pray with me. Even though our conversation was short, when she walked out my door I felt like a new person. Little did I know at that moment I just met a woman who would change my life.

Since our first meeting, she would seek me out at church to give me a hug. She would always tell me what a good mother I was and shared how much she loved my husband. Feeling insecure with my mothering abilities, I soaked up her words like they were water in a desert.

Missing my own grandmother, Gladys was a welcome addition in my life. Unfortunately at times her words of encouragement bounced off my harden heart. She reminded me weekly, “Lori, God has great things for you” and told me what a wonderful mother I was and how handsome my boys were. The Lord placed this special person in my life in hopes of softening this young girl’s broken, harden heart.

Hearing these encouraging words over the years slowly developed a desire to become what she saw in me. Our relationship deepened, and her words of encouragement, along with her faith in God, helped me through some difficult times. I would show up on her doorstep with my problems and she would pray for me and write down scripture to meditate upon. Each time when I left her house Gladys said, “Lori, God has great things for you.” After a year of hearing Gladys’ words of encouragement I prayed, “Father what does she see in me, that I do not see in myself? Help me to become what she sees in me.”

Many years later her husband passed away and Gladys moved to another state closer to her family. Before she moved we spent an afternoon saying our goodbyes knowing that the next time we saw each other would be in heaven. Though many tears were shed that day, we spent time counting our blessings and remembering how the Lord brought the two of us together. Approximately two years later she passed away with her family around her. I still have the last letter she wrote me, it was a letter of encouragement and words saying, “Lori, God has great things for you.”

Gladys changed my life, her faith moved me closer to God, and she made me see the good within myself. Her words of encouragement spur me on even today to become all that God has planned for me to be. Maybe you never had a Gladys in your life reminding you God has great things planned for you, but in the bible God tells you he is seeking you out (Romans 3:11 ESV) and calling you his “treasured possession.” (Exodus 19:5 ESV)

Matthew 10:29-31 (ESV) reminds us, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” God knows everything about every sparrow, and yet he says you are of more value than many sparrows put together; you are valued and he has great plans for your life.

I would not be writing this today, nor would I have dreamed I would be selected to become a contributor for the book Pearl Girls: Experiencing Grit, Encountering Grace if it were not for an elderly lady who saw something in me that I did not see in myself. God sees your worth, you are of great value; so come sit, let me pray because I know God has great plans for you.

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Stop by Information In A Nutshell Blogtalk Radio show with Felice Gerwitz on September 21, from 3:30-4:30 eastern time to hear Lori Kasbeer. (http://www.blogtalkradio.com/InformationInANutshell)

Lori Kasbeer has a house full of boys–three to be exact; however, if you add her husband, the cat and the dog, masculinity runs rampant. Lori is a contributor for the newly published book Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace. With a passion for reading you can find her Christian book reviews on Lori’s Book Reviews. Lori is also a devotional writer for the Laced With Grace and during her spare time you can find her blogging at Lori’s Reflections.

The Pearl of Africa

Winston Churchill once called Uganda, “The Pearl of Africa.” Last week, I had the incredible honor of meeting Janet Museveni, the First Lady of Uganda while she was in Chicago. She is truly “The Pearl of Africa.” Her heart overflows with love for her country and for God. On her official website, she writes:

“Since I was a child my passion was always to lift up those who were down. I loved the old people and felt sorry for the fragile or the very poor. With time this grew into a need to serve humanity. Over the years this has been realized through efforts to raise orphans and vulnerable children, protect the abused girls from all forms of abuse and try to provide direction for all youth. I have initiated programmes such as helping the Karamojong women to grow enough food for their communities, launched safe motherhood programmes country wide, provided micro credit for women in Ntungamo, provided guidance and counseling clinics for youth dealing with HIV/Aids through our Abstinence programmes. All this has been founded on this passion to serve.”

Mrs. Museveni serves her country in a variety of ways. In addition to being First Lady, this eloquent woman is an elected Member of Parliament and is a state minister for Karamoja. The First Lady was in town to help launch the Hands of Hope campaign to build fifty wells for fifty schools in Uganda. Vicky Wauterlek, the founder of Hands of Hope and a personal friend of the First Lady, hosted several events to promote this special project. Tall and elegant, Mrs. Museveni shared her passion for clean water at the schools in Uganda. This is an exciting project, and you can be a proactive part of helping build wells in Uganda through Hands of Hope. Please click on this link for additional information about what you can do.

You can also help by sharing the Pearl Girls book with others. Half of the proceeds from Pearl Girls goes to Hands of Hope for the Ugandan well project. Vicky, a very dear friend and wise woman sums it up so well: “God’s love is what connects the pearls.” She’s absolutely right! And together, the Pearl Girls can make a difference in Uganda, “The Pearl of Africa.”

Guest Blogger ... Dena Dyer

Be sure to check out Dena's wonderful blog, Mother Inferior and sign up for her FaithLifts!


I Hated Witnessing!

"The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down" (Psalm 135:13-14).

In 1983, I fell madly in love with Jesus after spending several days in Missouri at a Christian youth camp. My friend Krista was on fire, too, and we were concerned about Eric, one of the boys who had come with us. Eric wasn't born again, and he kept avoiding the nightly worship services. We knew God wanted him to accept Christ, and we decided we were the ones to help him do it.

So Krista and I roped him into going for a walk and practically pushed him down on a park bench. Then we went into the "spiel" we had practiced during that week's witnessing training.

"I've heard this before," he growled as we began, "and I don't want your Jesus!"

Krista put her hand on his arm. "But we care about you, Eric. Just listen to what we have to say!"

"No way!" he exclaimed. Then he got up and (literally) ran off.

I sat there, stunned. As a shy teenager, I was crushed. What did we do wrong? I knew we wanted the best for Eric, and I thought my heart was right with God. Did we push too hard?

It was years before I would verbally witness again. I decided I would let my light shine through my actions, and allow people to ask me questions if they wanted the joy and peace I had. The only problem was that no one ever asked.

As I was looking up the "Eric" story in my journals, I ran across the camp's motto: "Successful witnessing is sharing Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit and leaving the results to God." That resonated with me, since I still don't know what became of Eric.

Over several years of being a non-witness, I realized that I wasn't being obedient to Christ's mandate to share the gospel with the world. I began to look for opportunities to talk about Jesus in a natural way with neighbors, friends, and acquaintances. At times, I saw positive results. Sometimes, I fell on my face. Always, I felt God's presence and His approval -- like a father who is proud of his daughter for "just trying."

Recently, I shared Christ with a friend of mine who is involved in a cult. I prayed for an opportunity to talk to him for several months. When he approached me about coming to a special event at their church, I set up a time to talk with him later, at length.

Then I called every Christian friend I knew and asked them to pray like crazy. I also called a friend who had studied the cult, in order to review their theology. When our appointment came, I was uncharacteristically bold -- through the power of the Holy Spirit -- in explaining the differences in our faith, and telling why I felt uncomfortable with his request. God brought several Scriptures and questions to mind that I hadn't planned on bringing up. Through it all, I felt calm, even joyful.

And now, I'm leaving the results to God.

Lord, thank you for helping me to share Your love and grace with others, and for picking me up when I fall short in this area.

by Dena J. Dyer ©. Used by permission.

Dena Dyer is a busy wife, mom, and entertainer and she is constantly losing things—but she’s holding onto her sanity (barely). Her favorite forms of therapy? Cuddling with her two sons, date nights with her hubby, reading, and blogging.

Dena is thankful for her creative life, which is varied and full. In between driving carpools, helping her boys with homework, and shuttling kids to soccer practice, she writes, speaks to women’s groups, and performs part-time at a Christian-owned professional music theater, Rockbox Theater.
Her husband, Carey, works alongside her as a principal cast member at Rockbox Theater. The couple met in a post-college singing group and dated “on the road” before marrying in 1995. “Carey’s my best friend and my biggest fan, and I’m so thankful God has given us each other. I couldn’t pursue my dreams without him,” Dena says. “He even cooks!” (Sorry, ladies—he’s taken.)

Her publishing credits include the books Grace for the Race: Meditations for Busy Moms and Mothers of the Bible (both with Barbour), compilations such as Chicken Soup for the Sister’s Soul Woman’s World and HomeLife, and tips for Working Mother, Family Circle and Parenting.

Guest Blogger ... Beth Adams

Growing Pains

Like I had so many times before, I stopped. A painful, soul-draining decision faced me. One path led toward my dorm room, where I knew I should go and get started on my classwork. The other path led to where I wanted to go—down the hill to the boathouse on the lapping shore of Lake Carnegie.

I knew, my crew teammates—or were they my ex-teammates?—were putting their long, slender competitive rowing boats into the water, climbing in, locking oars to gunwales and knifing through the glassy surface of the lake. I ached to join them. Why, God, I demanded, can’t I be out on that lake too?

Months before—it seemed a lifetime—I’d sat in a doctor’s office looking at an X ray of my spine. “See this? This is why you’re in pain. Most people have five lumbar vertebrae. You have six. That means the vertebra that normally fuses with your pelvis, supporting your back when you bend and lift, is in the wrong position. Every time you take a rowing stroke, you’re straining your back terribly. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear.”

If I wasn’t Beth the Princeton rower, who was I? I wanted to be the Beth I’d been dreaming of ever since I’d found out there was such a thing as the Ivy League. Despite the doctor’s admonition, I’d refused to abandon rowing. I had seen physical therapists, chiropractors, back specialists. I’d tried exercises, bed rest and painkillers. The pain was still with me. It was worse than ever. But the alternative—giving up rowing, going back to being plain old Beth—was intolerable. I had to get back into that rowing boat.

I simply had to.

I remembered so clearly the day that I’d discovered rowing. She was wearing a striking black and orange jacket with PRINCETON CREW printed across the back. “Interested in rowing?” she asked, holding out a clipboard. “We’re having an informational meeting tomorrow.” I knew zero about rowing. The idea of it, though, suddenly struck me—that was the kind of elite, Ivy League sport I craved. I looked again at her jacket. I wanted one of them too. I signed up.

I spent hours every day on the water, on rowing machines, lifting weights, running. The spring of my freshman year, my coach said, “Beth, I’m moving you up to the first boat.” Yes! I thought, convinced I was right where I needed to be. Every practice my back hurt more. One day I arrived at the boathouse so stiff, I couldn’t even get my oar into the water. My coach said the words I’d been dreading: “You need to go to the infirmary.”

The minute I left his office, though, I began planning my return to the water. There had to be a way to work around that extra vertebra. Surely this new life, this new identity I’d made for myself, wouldn’t be undone by some random physical limitation. All summer I saw doctors and physical therapists. I exercised. Stretched. Rested. I even reconnected with church, something I’d let slip at school. I went on a mission trip to Mexico with my hometown youth group—partly in hopes that God would reward me by taking my pain away. I returned to Princeton in the fall. My back hurt more than ever. I couldn’t even practice.

I tried my question one more time. Why? Why was my life turning out this way? Didn’t God want me to become brand-new Beth? I held still, straining for an answer. Nothing. Well then, I asked, why was I made this way? Who was I supposed to be? Yourself. The word was so commonplace, but it took me aback anyway. What a strange answer. Of course I was myself—wasn’t I? Suddenly my eyes fell on my rowing jack­et. PRINCETON CREW. I looked at that jacket, thinking back to all the times I’d worn it. Brand-new Beth. Beth 2.0. Was that myself? Myself. It was still my voice saying that word. But suddenly, in some strange way, I knew what God meant by it too. What had I been doing trying so hard to trade that Beth in for some shiny new version of my own devising? What was wrong with me just as I was? This time the inner voice was certain. Nothing.

The very next day I walked to the boathouse and told my coach I was leaving the team. As I walked back up to campus under glorious autumn foliage, my heart felt lighter than it had in months. By the end of the week the pain in my back was almost completely gone. You could call that a miracle. I think the explanation is more straightforward. Anyone who tries to do what she was never meant to do, or to be who she was never meant to be, is bound to encounter difficulty. Quitting rowing put me on a new—or was it old?—and wonderful path. I participated in a fellowship group and made friendships I still cherish.

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Beth Adams graduated Princeton, married and became a book editor in New York. She lives the East Coast life she’d always dreamed of. Not one of her devising. The one she was meant to live.

This story was adapted with permission from “Growing Pains” by Beth Adams, which appeared in the April 2009 issue of Guideposts magazine. Copyright © 2009 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

Guest Blogger ... Charlotte Cole

Overcoming the Lies

One byproduct of my bold and literal personality is that I am extremely honest; as you can imagine that can often be of great value and yet on occasion it can be a detriment.

I have taken a new path, however in recent days, I begun to regularly repeat to myself what feels like an absolute lie. I know in my head it is not a lie, but it certainly feels like one.

While I no doubt speak the truth to others, I have developed a lifestyle of believing lies in my head. This has been the case for the first 40 years of my life, I am sick and tired of it, I am staking new ground. I am going to overcome the negativity in my head even if it what I combat it with, feels like a non truth.

Let me get specific. I hear others say complementary things about the way I look. Inside, my self-image has been so powerfully created with negative self talk, that often what I hear can’t even find a resting place among the lies I have developed belief in all these years.

The way I have seen myself, my whole life, has been so far from what I am beginning to believe the truth to be. I am setting on a new path; I am beginning to change my self-talk even if it means feeling like a liar.

When I get a glimpse in the mirror, no matter what I see, I am making a deliberate effort not to chime in with the same old lies. No matter what the truth is, I am beginning to say to myself, "You are pretty, you are young and healthy. You are thin and you have beautiful vibrant skin. You look great in your bathing suit. You are a good wife and mother. You are capable, you have an incredible future. You are loved and forgiven."

You may be thinking that’s easy for me, but let me assure you, regardless of what actually exists; I have never felt any of those things. (Except the loved and forgiven- I have embraced those thoughts every single day since I met Jesus)

I kid you not, it feels like a lie when I say complementary things to myself, but it is making a difference. The mental is actually affecting the physical. My thoughts alone are so liberating it is like escaping the prison of deception where I have been trapped, for the last 40 years.

Now please don’t think I am totally promoting vanity. What I am doing is simply redirecting negative thoughts. I am not waking up every morning and saying these things as a mantra, but if a negative thought comes to mind I redirect it with a thought that is going to liberate me from Satan’s power over my poor self-esteem.

What about you? What lies do you believe every day, that you need to combat with truth. Maybe you are convinced you are stupid, a bad person, a geek or no one likes you. Maybe you believe you are a bad wife or mother. Perhaps you tell yourself you are broke, a liar, or someone who will never be fulfilled. I am beginning to realize we can really sabotage our lives when we allow this negative energy to fuel our thinking.

Go ahead and give it a try. Start overcoming to lies of the deceiver with the truth, even if it feels like a non-truth. If you simply cannot move from your negative self image, get some counsel or coaching. Ask me, I'll pray for you. Open the Bible let God overcome the lies in your head with the truth of His word. The Psalms are full of His adoration for you.

Psalm 48:9 (New International Version)

⁹ Within your temple, O God,
we meditate on your unfailing love.

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Charlotte is a nonfiction Christian writer who has a heart for affectionately shining light in darkness and encouraging women in the daily challenges of being a wife and mother. She has unbelievable joy and the much-needed faith and light heartedness that is required as she and her husband raise their four sons in Annapolis Maryland. You can join her on the path of encouragement and fresh perspectives on biblical truths at Charlotte's Heart.

To Heaven and Back

Julie Papievis, my co-author on Go Back and Be Happy, was featured on CBN sharing her amazing story on this week.

From Finance to Fiction

I'm excited to announce I've started a new blog that will center more on my writing life - my journey to publication if you will.

Here's the first post - come over and drop me a note - leave me a recipe or ask me a question. This blog will be like putting a meal in a slow cooker. I want to fill the posts with some bits of my life, encompassing finance, food, faith and of course fiction. Also, I want to hear from you. Please share your thoughts and recipes with me. Thank you, and let the journey begin!

Writing a novel is more difficult than being a New York City banker. I know this first hand. For seven years, I worked in the corporate finance area of one of the largest banks in New York. As a young woman from Alabama, I ended up in the fast paced lane near Wall Street. I loved it there, and I loved the man I met there. We got married and our first daughter was born at Mount Sinai Hospital during one of the hottest summers New York City ever had.

We moved our young family to the Chicago area. My plans were to return part time to the world of finance, but this option was not available. I did some consulting work for the bank where I worked, but after the many bank mergers and another new baby, the door closed. So what to do next?

People always say that you will end up doing what you loved to do in third grade. Miss Cook, my third grade teacher at Brookwood Forest Elementary School pulled me aside when I was nine years old and told me, “One day you will write books.” I loved to write. In high school, I was on the newspaper staff and was even voted Most Creative in Writing during my senior year. (On a side note, it’s the same high school that Courteney Cox and Natalie Holloway attended). In college I was the editor for the editorial section of the paper. But the lure of international business enticed me to earn a master’s degree in international business at The University of South Carolina. I learned Portuguese and did an internship in the treasury department at IBM Brazil in Rio de Janeiro. Right after graduate school, I got a job in New York.

As an unemployed new mom in the Chicago suburbs, I applied for a free lance position at the local newspaper. Soon, I had my own neighborhood column. I heard about Write to Publish on a local radio station and attended my first writers’ conference. I met a wonderful acquisitions editor from Thomas Nelson and sold my first book – a gift book called A Mother’s Heart Knows. My entry into the publishing world officially began. In a separate blog, I will write about how I found my first literary agent. It was through a wrong phone number!

Five years ago, I discovered a passion to write a novel. It wasn’t an epiphany, just a subtle realization.

I was at a cooking class and thought that this would be the perfect setting for a novel. So it began….. And yes, five years later, I am still working on it (the cooking and the writing). It’s the most challenging yet invigorating endeavor I have ever undertaken. A love hate relationship. Conflict. All wonderful ingredients for a story and a blog.

Take-out Tidbits
1) For aspiring writers, sign up for a local writers’ conference. It’s a great way to dip your pen into the publishing world and meet with editors and learn more writing skills.

2) For aspiring cooks, remember to add fresh herbs to the pan last. If they’re added too soon, the herbs will lose flavor.

3) Collect your pennies that fall into the sofa cushions and under the car seats. Put the coins into a mason jar. Each month deposit it into a savings account for yourself or your kids. You’ll be amazed how quickly the account adds up!