“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18, NIV I am so proud to introduce you to Stacey Pardoe as a Guest Blogger this month. I met Stacey through my online network of bloggers and our hearts connected immediately. I feel we have a lot in common and after reading her blogs, I couldn't wait to purchase her book: Lean Into Grace. It is so good, and I highly recommend it. Stacey has a beautiful gift of taking the reader along with her on very personal and heartfelt journeys and I am so happy to have her share a story with you today about how hands can remind us to be thankful. I know you will enjoy it! I have a habit of noticing people’s hands. Over time, I’ve learned that this habit is a good way to remind myself of God’s calling to give thanks in all circumstances and count every good gift in my life as a direct blessing from my heavenly Father. My tendency to notice people’s hands started when Bekah, our oldest child, was a toddler. I loved her chubby baby hands and smiled every time I ran my fingertips over her soft skin. Over time, I watched as Bekah’s hands grew long and slender. As I said goodbye to her toddler hands, I released her into the world of the big kids. I’ve watched our boys’ hands, too. Little Aiden’s wrists are still stout with four-year-old innocence, and I kiss his little hands every chance I get. And then there are my own hands—growing more weathered and creased with each day. Sometimes, I look down and startle myself. I wonder, Where did my hands go, and whose weathered hands are washing my dishes? I remember the way my Grandma’s hands looked when I was a little girl, and I’m surprised to look down and see those same hands protruding from my arms. As I reflected on this the other day, I wondered if, perhaps, God reveals the passage of time through our hands because they’re always in front of us—ongoing reminders to embrace the present and treasure what we have while we still have it. A Practical Way to Remember to Give Thanks in All CircumstancesLast week, I looked down at my hands and decided to return to a practice I’ve periodically enjoyed throughout the past decade. I found a silver ring in my dresser and slipped it onto my right ring finger as a reminder to keep thanking God for his gifts in my life—for chubby little boy hands and weathered middle-aged hands and another day to walk on this grassy earth beneath the sinking sun. I decided that every time I look at my hands and notice the ring, I’ll thank God for one gift in my life. An hour after slipping the ring onto my finger, I first noticed my ring while scrubbing the bathtub, when the ring nearly slipped off of my finger. Immediately, I stopped grumbling about the back-bending work. Instead, I thanked God for the family living in this home and the joy they bring into my life—even if their presence includes grime in the bathtub. Later in the day, I noticed the ring as I pulled weeds from the landscaping. Sweat poured down my face in the afternoon sunshine, and I stopped the work to thank God for the gift of our home, flowerbeds, and warm, sunny afternoons. As I prepared to tuck Aiden into bed for his afternoon nap, we pulled out a storybook and held it together in our hands. As his small, stout hand rubbed my silver ring, I admired our hands together. Suddenly, everything about the moment felt like a gift from God—something to cherish. I’ve decided to stick with this practice of wearing the ring. This small piece of jewelry is helping me to give thanks in all circumstances and cultivate deeper joy in life’s most ordinary moments. I need this reminder, and I wonder if you need it, too. Remind Yourself to Give Thanks More OftenThis week, I encourage you to wear something special on your hand or wrist to remind yourself to give thanks to God more often. It might be a different watch, ring, bracelet, or even an elastic hair tie. Every time you notice it, pause what you’re doing and thank God for one gift. This simple habit can shape you into a person who gives thanks in all circumstances. It can change your life by helping you to focus on the good instead of focusing on your worries and troubles. A Free Devotional for You: I have a gift for you today. Set Free: Let God Do What You Cannot explores ten realms in which most of us need God to work in our lives and bring balance and peace. We'll talk about finding freedom from fear, worry, insecurity, bad habits, emotional pain, and more. This short online devotional will bless you as you let God accomplish what you’ve been unable to achieve through willpower. Get your download for free with promo code GRACE right here. These two books are free on Kindle Unlimited or available to purchase in print:God wants to work in your life to accomplish what you’ve been unable to do through willpower alone. Lean Into Grace: Let God’s Grace Heal Your Heart, Refresh Your Soul, and Set You Free shares practical ways to experience God’s freedom, healing, power, and presence in your life. Find this life-changing book for free on the Kindle Unlimited plan or for 12.99 in print right here. This book will transform your life and revitalize your relationship with the Lord! Calling all mothers and daughters! Additionally, my 12-year-old daughter, Bekah, and I wrote a mother-daughter devotional book to help mothers and daughters grow closer together while connecting with God. Girl to Girl: 60 Mother-Daughter Devotions for a Closer Relationship and Deeper Faith includes 60 devotions with Scripture, commentaries from both of us, conversation starters, and even a shared journaling section. Multitudes of mothers, daughters, mentors, and younger women are being transformed by this book! You can find your free Kindle Unlimited eBook or buy it in print for just 11.99 right here.
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Hey everyone! I am so happy to introduce you to Erin Ahnfeldt. Erin, the author of this story is a teacher like myself and I am so happy to have him as my first guest blogger. I know his story will really resonate with you and if you would like to read more of Erin's stories please click here. Aoloni stepped into my classroom crying. Her eyes were red, filled with pain, and her cheeks glistened with tears. She was right in front of me before I could think. “Can I go to the bathroom?” she asked. Fourth period was about to start. Students brushed past us, headed to their seats, and I stepped a little closer. “I’m sorry, Aoloni,” I whispered. “Sure. Go ahead.” As quickly as she came, she was gone, disappearing into the river of people. More kids rushed into class, trying to beat the bell, and I turned to my student teacher, Elly. We made eye contact with sad faces, silently acknowledging Aoloni’s tears. The bell rang, and class began. I waited for some quiet and smiled. “Good afternoon students!” I shouted. A few students offered “Good afternoons” or half-hearted smiles. And then Mason muttered with a smirk, “Technically, it’s still morning, Mr. Ahnfeldt.” It was 11:42 am. We were reading Of Mice and Men. Aiden and Kori helped pass out copies to their classmates, and different students took turns reading aloud. We got maybe two pages into it when Aoloni slipped back into the room, still wiping her eyes with toilet paper. A few students watched her sit down, silently feeling her heaviness. We kept reading, and I handed her a book. The class talked about Steinbeck’s use of imagery and did some more reading, but after about 20 minutes, we needed a change. “I’ve got something else I want you to read,” I said. I had skimmed through stacks of my students’ paragraphs, written a couple of weeks before, and found one I liked. Copies of it had been sitting on my desk for a week, waiting for me to finally pass them out. Elly and I blocked out the student’s name when we made the copies, so nobody could identify the author. The problem was I couldn’t even identify the author. I forgot. Passing them out the day before in a different class, Solomon asked me, “Mr. Ahnfeldt, who wrote this?” His bright smile worked at unlocking the hidden truth. “I can’t tell you,” I said, smiling back. It clearly felt to him like some sly evasion, but the truth was I really couldn’t tell him because I didn’t know. The plan was to divide the students into partners and have them talk about why the paragraph was so good. Once the talking started, Elly and I walked around the room. We watched Aoloni closely, and for whatever reason, a little spark twinkled in her eyes. She and Elysia leaned over the paragraph. Then I saw it. Aoloni was smiling! “Okay, everyone, let’s talk about what you found!” I shouted over the hum of conversation. People looked up at me and started raising their hands. Will’s hand went up first. “Go ahead Will.” “She had some great details to prove her point.” He must’ve guessed, based on the handwriting, the author was a girl. “Good! Yes, she definitely did a great job supporting her points.” There were more hands. I watched to see if students were tracking. Aoloni’s eyes were on me like a cat’s fixed on one of those red laser dots. Kori’s hand was up in the back. “Jump in, Kori,” I said. “I like the way she asks questions to get us thinking.” Aoloni’s smile playfully tumbled into shy giggles. That’s when it hit me—Is this paragraph hers? The thought filled me with wonder. “Great point, Kori!” I shouted, and as I said that, I smiled at Aoloni. She looked down at her desk, trying in vain to hold back the explosion of delight. More hands went up with more life-giving comments, and each time, Aoloni’s face brightened. “I’ll take those paragraphs back,” I shouted. Kids passed up their copies, and with time running out, I looked at Elly and saw a smile growing on her face, too. She walked up to me as students unzipped backpacks. “I think this paragraph is Aoloni’s,” she whispered. I nodded, still reeling from the wonder of it all. “Elly,” I whispered back, “God does this all the time.” I was pointing at the copies of Aoloni’s paragraph still in my hand. “There is no way we could’ve planned this!” My classroom doesn’t have any windows, but that morning it was pretty clear, the real Teacher in room 212 wanted to let in a little sunlight. He wanted to show the student teacher exactly what makes that classroom such a special place. Leaning on the wood podium in the front of the room, I waited for the zippers and side conversations to stop. With one minute left, there was quiet. “Let’s give a big round of applause for—” I stopped mid-sentence, acting like I was coughing up a lung. “aahhughh. . .Aoloni. . . ahem. . .” Some students laughed, others looked over at Aoloni, but everyone clapped. The room erupted with applause and smiles, and the one smiling brightest was the same girl who, ninety minutes before, walked into room 212 crying. There’s a God who designed a lesson plan I could never create for a young lady whose broken heart mattered to Him. I couldn’t even remember who wrote Aoloni’s paragraph. How could I possibly time a celebration of something she wrote with a storm in her life? There’s no way! But the Author of Aoloni’s story and of mine saw that storm. He put that paragraph in front of me, and He knew the exact day when talking about it would mean the most. It’s obvious. The real Teacher in that classroom isn’t me; it’s Him.
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