Doing Life Together

An Old Man’s Wisdom…by Donna Clark Goodrich

Posted on April 10, 2015 by dgood648

Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me.

—Psalm 71:18

“Time to read the Bible, Clarence,” I said to my 72-year-old stepfather. My mother had recently passed away and he was spending the winter with us. Suffering from dementia, I knew he didn’t understand all I read, but I knew that he enjoyed it.

This morning’s passage was from Romans 8. I looked ahead at all the difficult words: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? …tribulation … distress … persecution … famine … peril … principalities.. height… depth…nor any other creature.”

There’s no way he can understand that, I thought. I’ll just read Romans 8:28. “All things work together for good to them that love God”. That’s familiar to him.” But I sensed God saying, “No, read it all.” So I plunged in and read every verse.

When I finished, Clarence sat with a pleased smile on his face. “Nothing can separate us from God,” he repeated with childlike happiness. “Isn’t that nice?”

I suddenly realized the truth of his words. Nothing—not even his failing faculties—had separated him from his awareness of God’s love for him. “Nobody ever outgrows Scripture,” the noted preacher Charles Spurgeon once said. I thanked God that this was true in my stepfather’s life, and I prayed that it would always be true in mine as well.

Posted in Aging, Faith | Tagged Bible understanding, Elderly, stepparenting | 6 Comments

Eyes to See…by Carol Boley

Posted on April 7, 2015 by Carol Boley

At first I thought it was just a sliver of ice melting on the floor. I wiped up the little puddle and didn’t give it another thought. When I went back to the refrigerator an hour later, the puddle was back. Uh oh. Opening the freezer door, I noticed every package of broccoli, every bag of strawberries, every container of chicken stock was soft and dripping.

Great. We ran through the usual checklist of possibilities and, finding no solutions, decided our best choice was to call the repair company. I could see dollars flying out the door, some winging their way into the service man’s pockets and others crashing into the garbage can in the form of spoiled food. Dang!

Days later the repairman showed up, determined he couldn’t diagnose the problem because the refrigerator’s computer (Really? Even the refrigerator has a computer?) needed to reset. In the meantime, we were “camping out” in the kitchen, using a styrofoam ice chest to cool our milk and prescription eye drops.

When he came back a week later, he consulted refrigerator HQ. They decided it needed a new compressor, which would have to be ordered from out of state and would take another week to ten days to arrive.

In the meantime, we remembered a small dorm-sized refrigerator out in my husband’s “man-cave,” which could only be accessed by going outside. We started using it…better, but it was so inconvenient trudging out to the separate garage every time we wanted a can of pop or first thing in the morning for milk. Still, it beat making an “ice run” everyday, pouring the water from the styrofoam chest and then replacing everything.

And then it hit me. “Let’s bring the little refrigerator inside.” Oh my. The solution was so obvious, I was ashamed I hadn’t thought of it before.

How many other times has the solution to a problem been right before my eyes but I have missed it, usually because my mind starts whirling, going into “search and destroy” mode, trying to come up with an answer before I stop, take a deep breath, and ask my Father what He thinks?

I’ll tell you–too many times. It’s a lesson I keep learning, as I “fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

Like the power of our loving Father to make obvious the solution to a problem.

Posted in Christian Living, Faith, Family Life, Family Stories, Finding solutions, Frustrations, Humor, Intuition, Revelation | Tagged 2 Corinthians 4:18, broken appliances, problems, refrigerator, repairmen, solutions, solving problems | 4 Comments

My Favorite Profession…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on March 27, 2015 by Linda Carlblom

I have worked in different jobs over the years, from day care to office work to customer service. During those twenty years in the work force I learned that despite being an introvert, I excelled at listening to people and caring for their needs. I also found out it was extremely stressful trying to balance work and family. Guilt overwhelmed me every time I had to call in because my children were sick. I felt I was always letting someone down, either my kids for putting them in day care, or my job if I stayed home to be with them.

In 1995 I became pregnant with my third child and had just become a stay-at-home mom to my two older kids. There was a looming gap of nine years between my youngest and this new baby on the way. I’d had to work when my son and daughter were young, and did the single parenting thing for five years, being their sole support. But things were different now. I was remarried and had a husband who was just as happy to have me home as I was to be there. I was nervous at first, hoping it would be enough for me. Would I get restless? Irritable? Bored?

Today I was folding laundry and I had a flashback to folding teeny tiny shirts and onesies before my babies were born. Though the clothes were larger now, the feeling was the same. My heart was full, and bursting with purpose and love. It was packed to the brim with memories and stories and laughter.

I realized being a stay-at-home wife and mom was my favorite profession. I’ve experienced so much satisfaction just caring for my family, even though it’s only my husband and me most of the time now. As I folded shirts, pants, and underwear, I acknowledged that this job is the job of my heart, the one I do out of love. It fills me with what I long for and love most—my family.

This housewife job has provided me flexibility to go to parent-teacher conferences, to school programs, to help out in classrooms, and to go on business trips with my husband. I learned organization, time management, people and negotiating skills, budgeting, purchasing, and so much more as I raised my family. I’ve been available to run out on a moment’s notice when I received a frantic phone call to bring a forgotten item from home. I could stay home with sick children without the guilt of calling into work saying I wouldn’t be there.

And while my children grew, my parents aged. My father passed on almost ten years ago and I was able to sit by his bedside and enjoy precious time with him. I’m able to take my mother to doctor appointments now that her vision doesn’t allow her to drive as much, and I was home to care for my father-in-law after he had a stroke and came to live with us for a few months last year.

Having worked for almost two decades, I know the difficulties of juggling the responsibilities of a job and a home. For years I longed to be a stay-at home wife and mom but couldn’t. Now I’m honored to have this blessing in my life, while understanding that there are many who don’t, or aren’t cut out of the same fabric I am. Many women prefer working outside the home and they thrive there, being the best they can be when they return home each day. Kudos to them for caring for their own hearts and families in the way that’s best for them. It’s part of the diverse beauty God created within each of us.

But for me, I love being home to care for my loved ones, whatever their stage of life. I’m thankful for a husband who values my contribution to our family. Hands down, this is the best, most rewarding job I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t trade it for all the paychecks in the world.

What has been your most rewarding job either inside or outside your home? What made it so special? Tell us about it in the comments.

Linda

Posted in Family Life, Life, Life Transitions, Memoir, Nostalgia, Uncategorized | Tagged aging parents, housewife, professions, rewarding work, Stay-at-home mom | 6 Comments

Easters of my Childhood . . . by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on March 24, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

From the time I was five years old until well into my teens, this is how Easter morning went:

First of all, find the basket. This usually happened before my parents even woke up. That was pretty easy, since it was always somewhere in the living room. Not so easy was eating only one or two candies.

Holy Cross Church

Next on the agenda was church. Although we went to church every Sunday, Easter meant something new to wear, either a new coat, or a new dress, or a new hat. I grew up Catholic, and in the mid 1950s through the 60s and into the 70s, Catholic women and girls always had their heads covered in church. The hats were often quite elaborate, and Easter bonnets were the prettiest of all, loaded with silk flowers and bows in pastel colors, maybe accented with some mesh veiling. And when I was a little girl, we also wore gloves. And I usually had white patent leather Mary Jane shoes with white cotton or nylon ankle socks. So elegant! Of course, we were there to worship, but the distractions were so pleasant.

After Mass, we went home for breakfast. Catholics didn’t eat before Mass, because it was disrespectful to take communion after a meal. On Easter we always had colorful boiled eggs, which I loved to decorate but hated to eat. Luckily, there was also something sweet, like Italian Easter bread brought home from the bakery where my father worked. And, of course, some more candy from the basket.

After breakfast, it was time to plead with my Daddy to take us to Asbury Park (NJ), to a wonderful amusement park, a virtual paradise for kids, with a scrambler and a ferris wheel and a carousel and a swan boat, little cars to ride, and little speed boats that went around in a circle. Until I was old enough to date, the only time we went to Asbury Park was Easter Sunday, a tradition that I think my parents were sorry to start. Once the precedent was set, however, I insisted it continue.

By the time my own children were born, we lived too far away to visit Asbury Park (and its unfortunate decline was beginning). Though no longer Catholic, our celebration still included worship (and Sunday school with special activities) and Easter baskets and maybe a new article of clothing, but no Easter bonnets.

Now our children are grown. No more Easter baskets. But the day still begins with church, and our focus is solely our Savior. Hallelujah! He is risen indeed!

What Easter traditions did your family have when you were a child? What Easter traditions do you have today? I welcome you to comment below.

Posted in Blogging101, Easter, Easter traditions, Faith, Family Life, Holiday, Memoir, NJ | Tagged Asbury Park NJ, Blogging101, celebrations, children, Easter, Easter traditions, faith, memoir | 8 Comments

Until Death Do Us Part…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on March 20, 2015 by Linda Carlblom

We filed into the quiet church, some of us hand-in-hand. One by one we came and sat with the rest of our group. We were overjoyed to see each other, all smiles, hugs, and leg pats, even though we’d seen each other just days before. As one, then another, and another joined our ranks, emotion rose from deep within me and tears sprang to my eyes. We were together, not for a happy occasion or to critique each other’s writing, but to support one of our dear writing sisters at her husband’s memorial service.

Most of our group at Christmas, 2014. Back row: Donna, Judy, Betty. Front row: Andrea, Peggy, and Linda

I was struck by how the very presence of these beloved friends was comfort in itself. There was no doubt I could get through anything, anything with these women by my side. And long before we came together that day, we’d been together in heart, lifting our sweet, grieving Donna up in our prayers. We’d visited her at the hospital as she sat by her husband’s bedside, left love offerings at her doorstep, signed cards, sprayed her weeds, and gathered collective gifts to try to express our deep love for her. We tried to show her how much she means to us and that she’s not alone in her grief.

Sometimes, words aren’t enough even for those of us who consider ourselves wordsmiths. So we came. We hugged. We sat. We called. We prayed. We cried. We hoped. Ultimately we thanked God for a life well lived and a devoted marriage that lasted 54 years. And now we help our friend learn to live as a widow. Some in our ranks already started this journey years ago when their husbands died. I simply marvel at their strength and hope I’ll do as well when it’s my turn to grieve.

I have no doubt Donna will be just fine. Her faith is strong, her family near. But her girlfriends from her writers critique group who are “doing life together” with her are here, too. Doing life together. Doing death together. And doing everything in between together. It’s a sweet life and I’m so thankful and blessed to have such a close circle of friends to do life with until death do us part.

How have you supported friends through grief? How have you been supported in times of grief?

Posted in Friendship, Grief, Life, Life Transitions, Uncategorized, Widowhood | Tagged friendship, grief, supporting friends through grief, widowhood | 2 Comments

Easter and Last Suppers by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on March 17, 2015 by Betty Mason Arthurs

Easter season is upon us and it’s a time when we Christians celebrate the time Jesus rose from the dead. Throughout the year we also have communion to remember the last supper Jesus had with his twelve disciples before he was betrayed and died on the cross. Before he died he wanted to have a last meal with his closest friends, the twelve disciples.

The scripture tells us that on the night Jesus was betrayed he took bread “broke it and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me.’ In the same manner He also took the cup after supper, saying, ‘This is the new covenant in My blood. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’”
(1 Corinthians 11:24-5 NKJV) Today in my church for communion we use cracker bread and tiny cups of grape juice.

Leonardo da Vinci captured in his magnificent painting called, “The Last Supper,” the moment Jesus told the men, “one of you will betray me.” The shock, the grief…the different expressions on the faces of the disciples told the story of each man as they reacted to horrific words from their friend and Savior.

On a trip ten years ago my husband and I visited the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, northern Italy where da’Vinci painted in the 1490s, The Last Supper. Painted on a wall in the refectory, somehow the huge mural survived the bombings during the wars and men who deliberately damaged Leonardo’s work when the room in 1796 was used by the French for an armory. Over time the painting succumbed to mold and flaking. In later years, careful work has restored much of its original beauty.

When we were ushered into the climate controlled room, awe overwhelmed me. Here was I, a little homemaker from Arizona, looking up at one of the most famous paintings of the world and I could see, thanks to a designer’s touch, the love on the face of Jesus and the shock on the face of each disciple. Tears filled my eyes as we were ushered out of the room. Many visitors awaited their chance to see da Vinci’s ancient masterpiece.

I remember, even as a child, my pastor Dad serving communion and quoting from scripture Jesus’ words. And I think about the “last supper” I had with my dad before he passed away in 1994. We had been to his surgeon’s office where plans were made to remove an abdominal tumor. All seemed well and we were assured that it was a simple surgery and things looked good. When he drove the car to the nearest Dairy Queen in Cottonwood, Arizona, my dad laughed and said, “Let’s have a root beer float.” All my childhood this was my dad’s favorite activity, surprise his kids with an ice cream goodie.
Yes, it was our last ice cream together since dad suffered a heart attack after his surgery and was gone in a week. Right now in my heart there’s no grief only a warm memory of all the years of a faith-filled dad and his love for my mother, my brothers and me…and root beer floats. (My dad’s photo is below.)

I pray that you also have sweet memories that shine through your tears of grief in the loss of a loved one or beloved friend. Treasure those family dinners, the crazy office parties, and church potlucks. In spite of all the “not so good times,” the people you know are giving you memories to share long after they, or you, are gone. Easter is a good time to remember.

Posted in Celebrations, Christian Living, Faith, Family Life, Grief, Jesus, Travel, Uncategorized | Tagged Easter, Italy, Jesus, Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper | 4 Comments

The Prayer Bench…Judy Robertson

Posted on March 13, 2015 by Judy Robertson

A few hundred yards from the patio of my new apartment stands a bench. I’d seen a variety of people sitting there facing the lake with its ducks and heron and a couple of turtles. Many people would sit with heads bowed or face in hands with elbows propped on their knees. I had pegged this particular bench as a place where people go when they’re troubled—perhaps to talk with God.

One early morning an Asian woman stood in front of the bench raising her hands high up to the skies—I couldn’t help but think she was praising God.

From that point on I called it “The Prayer Bench.” In addition, this past Sunday I had been praying again, for God’s direction. Truthfully, I’ve been church hopping. The move to my new apartment has given me lots of new areas to explore. Ever since my husband of 53 years passed away a year and a half ago I’ve not yet found my spot with the believers whom God wants me to plant myself. Perhaps I won’t find that place until I reach my eternal home.

But this Sunday felt different. Maybe I could invite some people into my home for Bible study or to church somewhere with me. I dressed for church and grabbed a leash to let my little dog, Smokey, out for a potty-break before I left. As he wandered about, he pulled toward the prayer bench—it was time to go back to the house. But Smokey had different ideas. He planted his feet with head pointed and tail wagging toward a young man standing near the prayer bench. I finally gave in and walked toward the young man. He had headphones on but took them off when I walked up. He looked to be in his early twenties. I greeted him and we began talking. I thought perhaps this was the person God was leading me to invite to church this morning. As we talked, I asked him if he goes to church. His face brightened and he said, “I sure do. It’s just right across the street. Would you like to go with me?” That took me by surprise. I queried him about what kind of church it was, and satisfied it was really a Christian church, I said, “Well why not?” I told him I had to take my dog home and he said he’d wait right there.

And so, I walked with my new friend, I’ll call Ren, to church. He was so very kind. He poured coffee for me and introduced me to a couple of women. “Ren, you don’t have to sit with me. Why don’t you go ahead and sit with your friends? I’ll be fine,” I told him. But Ren insisted he wanted to sit with me.

Thus, I made a new friend, a strong Christian whose dad is not a believer. I told him I had a son who was not a believer and he put his name in his phone to pray for him. I told him I’d pray for his dad as well. What joy to meet a young man about the age of my grandsons who loved Jesus and who was willing to invite and walk a “gramma” to church.

God answered my prayer right by the prayer bench.

Is there someone you could invite to church with you Sunday? There may be someone just waiting for an invitation.

Posted in Faith, Friendship, Life Transitions, Widowhood | Tagged alone, church, following God's Nudges, invitation to church, listening to God, new friends, Prayer | 14 Comments

Dancing with Jesus . . . by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on March 11, 2015 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Bonnie Marie Codier

My mother passed away in 2004. She suffered from many ailments, including rheumatoid arthritis, virtual blindness, and hypertension. She was in constant pain. Her last 15 years were marked by slow degeneration, as she gradually became less mobile and more confused. A massive stroke eventually ended her life. The only thing that got me through that horrible time was a mental image of my mother dancing with Jesus, no longer suffering and without any physical limitations.

At the time, I didn’t know this particular vision is common among mourners. A guest at my mother’s viewing and another at her funeral mentioned it. “Your mother is dancing with Jesus now.” And a few weeks later a friend told me she pictured her mother dancing with Jesus shortly after her death.

I was reminded of it again recently when I attended a Celebration of Life for a young woman who was taken by mitochondrial disease. Bonnie had been a promising ballerina when her condition dashed her dream. Several of the friends and family members who shared stories about Bonnie commented, “She’s dancing with Jesus now.”

I think the universality of this image is due to the hope followers of Christ have—that after this life on earth, we will spend eternity in the presence of our Savior.

Ten years ago, I subscribed to O, the Oprah Magazine, for twelve issues. I loved the monthly column that featured what books some celebrity felt were noteworthy. But one issue that I became obsessed with contained an article about Oprah Winfrey’s Legends Ball.

In 2005, Oprah threw a celebration honoring twenty-five extraordinary women of color who made ground-breaking contributions to American culture and society. Some of the honorees were Rosa Parks, Maya Angelou, Diahann Carroll, Ruby Dee, Aretha Franklin, Lena Horne, Coretta Scott King, Leontyne Price, Diana Ross, and Cicely Tyson.

Also invited were “the young’uns,” young black women who were metaphorically standing on the shoulders of these giants, including Alicia Keys, Halle Berry, Naomi Campbell, Mariah Carey, Janet Jackson, Phylicia Rashad, Debbie Allen, and Alfre Woodard.

The party was held on the grounds of Oprah’s beautiful Montecito estate. The article included photographs of the attendees and the tables, set with gorgeous china, crystal, silver, and flowers, in Oprah’s exquisite garden. I reread the article and perused the pictures hundreds of times, longing to be part of the festivities, in the company of these amazing women. But my heart ached–I knew that if I lived to be 100, I would never qualify to be invited to a party like that, because I am not black.

Then Jesus whispered to me, “You’re invited to my party.”

Revelation 19:9 says: “And the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb.’ And he added, ‘These are true words that come from God.’” (NLT) Christians believe this refers to a celebration in heaven. It will be way better than Oprah’s party, because God is infinitely better than Oprah. The extraordinary attendees will be all the saints of the church, from the apostles and King David and Mother Theresa to the widow who gave her penny, the janitor who cleaned unto to the Lord, the drunkard who repented on his deathbed, my mother, Bonnie, and me. And we will all take our turns dancing with Jesus.

Posted in Blogging101, Celebrations, Dancing, Faith, Grief, Jesus, Mitochondrial disease, Oprah Winfrey | Tagged Blogging101, celebrations, Dancing, faith, grief, Jesus, Mitochondrial disease, Oprah Winfrey | 2 Comments

Confessions of a Suspense Addict…by Peggy Levesque

Posted on March 6, 2015 by Peggy Levesque

Confessions of a Suspense Addict…by Peggy Levesque

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t an avid reader, beginning with Little Golden Books as an early gradeschooler.

As I grew old enough, I made the mile-long trek to the library with a little neighborhood gang of four or five other kids. During summers, every two weeks we exchanged one stack of books for another. When we didn’t have a game of workup baseball going in the street, or maybe kick-the-can, I spent my time reading beneath the shade elm in our front yard or in my bedroom with the radio playing softly in the background.

This is how I met Nancy Drew. With Nancy, I went on spine-chilling adventures, searching out clues to solve a variety of mysteries. I felt the tingle across my skin, the lump of fear and excitement in my chest, as we made one eerie discovery after another. And I fell in love—with the suspense of it all.

My sister and I made up our own adventures and acted them out, mostly at our grandparents’ home. Built in the 1920s, their house offered a curved stair banister and lots of nooks and crannies to feed our active imaginations. Then there was the ginormous red furnace—with octopus arms reaching toward the ceiling—in the basement to add the air of danger. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that we always solved the case.

As an adult, I read a wide variety of genres that opened new vistas for me, took me places I would otherwise never get a glimpse of. But never lost my addiction for suspense.

As my faith matured, however, I began to miss the anchor of a wise and caring God in the stories I read. How could anyone get through all those harrowing experiences without knowing that the Jesus I knew stood in their corner? In my world, they couldn’t—not without losing their minds.

Eventually, I discovered faith-based fiction. And, as I read, a seed of an idea took root and grew. Maybe I could dig deep into the well of that suspense I loved and tell stories where people get into trouble—lots of trouble, and often as a result of their own choices—with Jesus standing right there, ready to offer hope and peace to those who call on him. Well, along with a few doses of His guidance of course.

I remember praying, and asking, “Can I do this, Jesus? Can I really hold out our ultimate hope through story?”

As time went by, the questions evolved into a compelling need, almost as though God, Himself, had planted the new and intimidating dream in my head. I simply had to proceed, but I knew that if I were to succeed, it had to be His dream for me as well. Hanging on to Psalm 37:4— Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart (ESV)—I went to work on doing the impossible.

It took years, and many lessons in humility that continue to this day, but at the end, I had the completed manuscript for Ashes in the Wind.

Now you know how I set out to write the great American—Christian—novel. Do you have a dream that uses the gifts God has given you? Ask God to lead the way and act on it. If He’s in it with you, and you push through all the doubts that will inevitably haunt you, I’m convinced you can accomplish the impossible, too.

Posted in Books, Christian Living, Faith, Motivation, Writing | Tagged Books, Doing the impossible, faith, Reading, writing | 7 Comments

I Suffer from Spinners

Posted on March 2, 2015 by Carol Boley

I suffer from a common yet rarely-diagnosed condition called “spinners.” You may be familiar with the symptoms. You may even suffer from it like I do, yet not even know it is a real THING.

Oh yes, it is real.

Spinners most often occur when the full realization of something you have recently said or written hits you full force, “spinning” you right out of bed or the chair or wherever you currently happen to be.

My most recent episode occurred yesterday, the day my new book, I’m NOT a Wicked Stepmother released. I experienced a mix of emotions…excitement, fear, regret (“why in the world did I say that?” and “what in the world possessed me to say it that way?” or “I wish I had said this instead”…you get the idea).

So I have spent most of today telling myself that it’s too late now and the best thing to do is to pray and trust God to take it and do with it what He will. Actually that’s good advice. It’s exactly what I would advise a friend suffering from a severe case of spinners.

Do you ever regret anything you’ve said or done? Ever suffer from spinners…now that you know what it is?

You don’t have to have written a book to experience spinners. A careless word here, a thoughtless word there, an unintentional tone thrown in wherever…you get the picture.

Well, there’s good news for people like us…people who suffer from the malady of spinners. As in all cases, scripture offers a solution. Apparently spinners have been around for a long time, because Peter offers us some encouragement when we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of an outbreak.

And if anyone should know, it would be Peter. Peter, who loved the Lord, yet shot his mouth off several times that we know of (so just imagine how many more times that didn’t get recorded for us!).

Peter took it to the extreme by denying the Lord, and when the full weight of what he had said hit him, (“Woman, I don’t know him,” said at one of the moments Jesus most could have used a friend, Luke 22:57) “he went outside and wept bitterly.” (Luke 22:62).

I think this is why I love Peter so much. In my own way, I’ve done the same thing…said something I bitterly regret, winding up in tears over my lack of courage, my weakness, the pain I have caused.

Yet Jesus took the shame from Peter, forgave him and even restored him to leadership. (John 21:15). Peter is the perfect one to encourage us. What advice can he give when we face yet another excruciating attack of spinners?

“Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.” (I Peter 5:7).

That’s it, my friends. Cast our care, because we can’t bear it ourselves. Our anxiety will crush us. And why can we cast it on Jesus? Because he loves us, he cares for us, and he is capable of bearing it for us. What a kind Savior he is!

Peter knew it, Peter experienced it, and now I can, too—and so can you. “Cast your anxiety”– it’s the perfect antidote for spinners.