We don’t necessarily think of Lent—a season of reflection, prayer and often fasting—as a time to sing. Don’t we have to wait for all those “Alleluias” of Easter? No, we don’t. There are so many hymns of Lent that can carry us through this lovely, spiritually rich season. They can show us the true meaning of Lent. Here is musical inspiration for this transformative time. Try one of these beautiful Lent hymns:

1)  “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”

What great reminder that God’s grace is there to carry us through whatever trials we face. The verse that always moves me the most:

Let thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to thee.

That powerful imagery of being chained to God’s own goodness pulling me back from my wanderings. May I be the Lord’s prisoner forever.

2)  “Forty Days and Forty Nights”

Just that title alone says “Lent.” We’re being called in this season to remember the Lord’s suffering and to share the journey with Jesus:

Shall not we your sorrow share
And from worldly joys abstain,
Fasting with unceasing prayer,
Strong with you to suffer pain?

Whatever fasting we undertake, whatever we decide to give up for Lent, we do it with prayer and grow stronger in the process as we face our own struggles.

3)  “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind”

The lyrics are by the great American poet John Greenleaf Whittier, a Quaker of deep faith. He understood how necessary it is to turn to God, asking for forgiveness, for God to “reclothe us in our rightful mind.” Prayer is at the heart of that process. My favorite verse:

Drop thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease…
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

What a perfect prayer for Lent.

4)  “Take My Life, and Let it Be”

There’s an old saying (I remember seeing it posted in our choir room as a kid): “When you sing you pray twice.” The words of a Lent hymn, like this one, stick in your soul. If you just said the words, that’d be one thing. But singing them resonates with your heart, body and soul. Like Jesus said, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). When I sing “Take my life…” the promise is rich and deep.

5)  “Be Still, My Soul”

Lent is a great time to practice contemplative prayer. Choose a time for day—first thing in the morning works best for me—when you can be quiet, be still, to listen to God. Our minds can be noisy with distractions. But when we give all those worries and concerns over to the Lord, we can be still:

Be still my soul thy best, thy heavenly friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Amen.

6)  “’Take Up, Thy Cross’ The Savior Said”

These words come straight from the Lord’s mouth: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). How wonderful to have a Lent hymn to help us claim that. Often sung in community. All the more powerful to make that pledge with others. That last verse:

Nor think till death to lay it down;
For only those who bear the cross
May hope to wear a golden crown.

The glory of it.

7)  “Amazing Grace”

Everybody’s favorite hymn. For good reason. During our Lenten journey, it feels especially appropriate, as we call on the free gift of grace that we’re all offered:

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come.
Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,
And grace that will lead me home.

Those toils that Jesus endured in the wilderness, that we honor at Lent, can only be endured through God’s grace. May it be with you.

READ MORE ABOUT THE LENTEN SEASON:

• Is Lent in the Bible?
• What Are the 5 Colors of Lent?
• 10 Ways to Observe a Green Lent
• Why Sundays Don’t Count During Lent
• 20 Lent Bible Verses for Reflection and Guidance
  

The post 7 Favorite Hymns for Lent appeared first on Guideposts.

Lent is a season of spiritual growth and change. So it might help to look at it through God’s rainbow of colors. In particular, five hues are associated with this holy time of year on the liturgical calendar. The five Lent colors are:

• Green
• Purple
• Blue
• Yellow
• Red

But what do these colors mean? How can we think about them as we move through our Lenten journey, and how can they help us better understand the meaning of Lent?

READ MORE: Is Lent in the Bible?

The Meaning Behind the Lent Colors

1. Green: New Life

The very word “Lent” means spring and as the cool of winter fades, we look for all the green signs that the season of hope and redemption is at hand. The grass comes up, the leaves slowly burst forth on the trees. Bulbs that we planted in the fall, digging deep into the earth, push up and show their true colors. As you pray in Lent, you are looking to be fertilized and watered with God’s purifying love. You’re not green with envy; you’re green with new life. May it come.

READ MORE: 10 Ways to Observe a Green Lent

2. Purple: God’s Love

Purple has always been the liturgical color associated with Lent, when ministers of God wear purple vestments and the altars where we worship are often decorated with purple cloth. Purple has long been the color linked with royalty and nobility. Why? Because it was especially expensive to produce, made from thousands of mollusk shells. Only the rich could afford it. If the kings could wear it, shouldn’t it be appropriate for the King of Kings?

God came down to Earth and was reborn in Jesus as we become reborn in Him. Purple then becomes a link to what God put in our reach. We all deserve the purple, crowning ourselves with God’s infinite love.

3. Blue: Reflection

Lent is a time of deep reflection. When we offer ourselves up to the Lord in contemplative prayer, it is common to tap into sorrow and sometimes painful memories. We see our dark side. We remember our losses. We can be smitten with unexpected sadness. We find ourselves singing “the blues,” literally. But that very process is a letting go. We feel God’s forgiveness. The very singing of the blues becomes a way of healing. The clouds disappear. The blue skies open up. The air shimmers. Blue becomes crystal clear vision.

READ MORE: 20 Lent Bible Verses for Reflection and Guidance

4. Yellow: The Light Within

We are nothing without the warmth and golden light of the sun, waking us up in the morning, following us through the day, dropping over the horizon at day’s end, God with us always. Yellow is that God-given hue that when mixed with blue forms green or mixed with red becomes orange. It is the very light within.

In our Lenten meditations we stop whatever we are doing at different times during the day and connect directly to God who is always there to connect to us. Like the sun. There’s nothing soft about yellow. It is strong, life-giving, life-sustaining. With Lent you see how each moment is golden, not to be missed.

READ MORE: 20 Beautiful Lent Quotes to Inspire You

5. Red: Importance

Red is often the color associated with martyrs of the faith, those who gave their life over to the Lord. Red can symbolize the Passion of our Lord who gave His life for us and is often used on Palm Sunday. Later it invariably marks the feast day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit came down and filled Jesus’s followers as it fills us, giving us the power and strength to do what we might never have thought we could do.

Red is the color of the stop sign or that red light that made you halt. Like you halted for the 40 days of Lent. But it was only to remember what was and is most important in life. True red-letter days. May each day bring you the colors of your true Self.

No matter how you celebrate this Lent—whether you are giving something up, growing closer to God through Lenten prayers, or making the time to celebrate Lent as a family—think about the meaning behind these Lent colors. As you see the trees bud with green, think about new life. When you see the purple vestments at church, pray about God’s love. As you gaze up to the blue, spring sky, reflect on your progress this Lenten season. Do your Lenten prayers or meditations under the yellow light of the morning sun. If you see the color red throughout you day, take a second to think about the most important things in your life. How can you include all the Lent colors in your celebrations and prayers?

READ MORE ABOUT THE LENTEN SEASON:

• 20 Unique Lent Gifts
  
• 7 Favorite Hymns for Lent
  
• 15 Inspiring Bible Verses for Fasting
• 5 Fun, Easy and Faith-Filled Ideas for Lent

The post What Are the 5 Colors of Lent? appeared first on Guideposts.

“Yes?”

“Hello. I work for the television show Law & Order. We’re doing some location scouting for some in­terior scenes, and I wonder if you might be willing to let me see your apartment.”

Here was an unexpected request. I live on a lovely block in a historic district, so quite a bit of filming does take place in my neighborhood, but it certainly never occurred to me that someone might consider my humble abode as a location for a TV drama.

I buzzed the man in, and after we introduced ourselves at my front door, I stepped aside to allow him to enter. As he looked around, my mind began to race, thinking of what it might mean if my apartment was chosen for filming.

I had been laid off from my posi­tion at an e-commerce company some months before, and I hadn’t yet had any luck finding a new job. I’d once read that TV shows and movies paid generously to use pri­vate homes for filming. That money would certainly come in handy, as my unemployment insurance was winding down. It all felt serendipitous, even miraculous.

My reverie was abruptly inter­rupted when my visitor received a call on his cell. After chatting quietly for a few moments, he turned to me and said, “I’m sorry to have bothered you. My colleague found an apartment down the street that suits our purposes, and it looks as if we’ll be filming there.”

Was I disappointed? Yes, of course, but I also felt oddly heart­ened by the near miss. I was reminded that blessings are often bestowed just when they’re needed most. In this case, the blessing wasn’t that I would be compensated for the use of my apartment. It was being reminded that blessings large and small await us, though we can’t always guess when or where they will present them­­selves. But they are there for us, and we must endeavor to re­main open to receiving them.

As E. B. White wrote in 1949, “No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.” White might just as well have phrased it “will­ing to be blessed,” and the sentiment is true no matter where one resides.

The post Willing to Be Blessed in New York City appeared first on Guideposts.

That morning, when I dropped her off at the bus stop, she stormed out of the car, shouting tearfully, “I hate my life, and you just don’t understand! I’m not coming home after school!”

It had been like that for weeks. All of a sudden, my considerate and high-achieving daughter was talking back to my husband, Kenny, and me. Being dishonest. Telling me she hated her life and thought I was a terrible mom.

The changes started after Christmas break, when volleyball season was over and she fell in with a new group of friends. Seemingly overnight, my 14 years of hard work as a parent went out the window. I prayed. Doubled down on rules. Begged Kennedi to tell me what was going on.

“You don’t understand anything about me!” she shouted during one of our many confrontations.

She was right about that.

I had worked so hard to be a perfect parent. Even before Kennedi was born, I was reading parenting books and thinking ahead. Rocking her to sleep one evening when she was a baby, I had felt her little back arch as she yawned and stretched out her arm toward me.

“I love you, my sweet girl,” I’d said, kissing her forehead. I wanted the best for my daughter, whatever it took.

I’d felt the same love three years later, when Kennedi’s little sister, Kassadi, was born. Kenny and I were intentional about everything. What our family ate. How much sleep and exercise the girls got.

We took them to church, read stories from their children’s Bible and taught them how to pray. We took the book of Proverbs seriously: “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”

By the time Kennedi was in middle school, I thought we were a model family. Our girls earned good grades, won medals at track meets and were growing in their faith.

Granted, I did a lot of nagging and fussing behind closed doors. But there was nothing wrong with having high standards and presenting your best self to the world. I took the same approach in my corporate career.

The summer before high school, Kennedi had suffered a serious running injury and had to quit track. She was depressed, but I thought she’d bounced back after joining the school volleyball team in the fall.

Obviously, I was wrong. I didn’t know where to turn. When I was growing up, mental health and behavioral issues simply weren’t talked about. They were considered a sign of weakness and swept under the rug.

I had no intention of taking Kennedi to see a therapist. I didn’t need everyone knowing about my family’s problems. Besides, weren’t prayer and adherence to discipline enough?

“God, I need a solution,” I whispered at the bus stop.

Kennedi came home that day, looking as miserable as ever. She didn’t say a word to me on the drive home.

It was the same thing every day. My anxiety was going through the roof. And Kennedi wasn’t the only one stressing me out.

Nearly a year earlier, before Kennedi’s track injury and any hint of trouble, Kenny and I had offered to help some acquaintances who’d adopted a child named Naomi from Ethiopia. Naomi, who was now 13, had endured a difficult upbringing and was having trouble acclimating to life in the United States.

Kenny and I had said Naomi could live with our family until she felt ready to return to her adoptive parents. We thought being in a stable, church-going African American family might help her bridge the gap with her new environment.

It didn’t take long for me to realize how unprepared I was for the ramifications of our altruistic gesture. Naomi had serious mental health issues. She was being helped by a social worker, a therapist and a psychiatrist. Before she even arrived at our house, we’d received a thick file with her mental health records, including a list of medications and all sorts of other things to coordinate.

Naomi moved in just a few weeks after Kennedi started acting out. I had to find a therapist and psychiatrist for Naomi; we lived two hours from her previous providers. A therapist who attended our church gave me recommendations.

One, an art therapist, bonded with Naomi right away. I was amazed at how quickly this woman was able to draw Naomi out of her shell with art projects and gentle, compassionate conversation.

After more research, I also made an appointment with a psychiatrist at a children’s hospital in Philadelphia. I was nervous the day of the appointment as Naomi and I stepped from the elevator and approached the behavioral health unit. I envisioned a chaotic place full of uncontrollable children.

We stepped into a quiet, pleasant waiting room with magazines on a table and parents and teens checking their phones or reading. I felt guilty about my expectations. Typical mental health stereotypes. What other misconceptions did I have?

As with the art therapist, I was floored by the psychiatrist’s ability to get Naomi talking. She probed deeper in a half hour than Naomi had gone the entire time I’d known her.

I didn’t always sit in on Naomi’s appointments, so I didn’t know everything her providers said. Still, Naomi invariably emerged from her sessions a little calmer and more grounded. I wished I could have the same effect on Kennedi.

A month after Naomi arrived, I got a phone call from Kennedi’s school. She had violated the school’s code of conduct. She was suspended, and I had to come pick her up.

Kennedi holed up in her room. I sat with my head in my hands, at a loss for what to do. Kenny was away at a game with the high school basketball team he coaches. I was on my own.

Should I storm in and read Kennedi the riot act? Ground her? Try to unlock the dark feelings behind her behavior?

I thought about Naomi’s therapists. What would they recommend? And why hadn’t I sought help like that for Kennedi already? I realized my prejudices against therapy were totally unfounded. Naomi’s providers were no different from the doctors who had treated Kennedi’s running injury.

I knew what I had to do.

After talking everything through with Kenny, I took out the list of therapists I’d assembled for Naomi, found one that accepted our insurance and made an appointment.

Kenny, Kennedi and I attended that first appointment together. Just as with Naomi, the therapist seemed to know exactly how to talk to Kennedi. Within a few minutes, deep emotions were pouring out of our daughter.

“I feel depressed, Mom and Dad.”

“You’re so strict.”“

You make it seem like I have to be perfect all the time.”

“I have no freedom compared to everyone else.”

More came out. Kennedi was still devastated about her running injury. Sports had been a huge part of her identity. The injury was still affecting her when she joined the volleyball team, so she got no playing time that first season. She’d fallen for a boy, but the relationship—her first time dating—had ended abruptly.

“Sometimes I don’t even want to live,” she said. She confessed she’d cut herself a few times.

Kenny and I sat there in the therapist’s office in shock. Our daughter had been struggling, and I’d been too blinded by my perfectionism to offer genuine help. I was transported back to those evenings when I’d rocked Kennedi to sleep as a baby. All I wanted to do was gather her in my arms and say, “I love you, my sweet girl.”

The therapist gave us some tips for having more productive conversations at home and said she would see us the following week.

It took time, but things improved. I made a serious effort to stop preaching to my daughter and worked on cultivating my own fruits of the spirit, especially patience and self-control.

I learned that when Kennedi seemed moody or standoffish, the right question was “How are you feeling?” Not “Why are you talking to me like that?”

I paid attention to my daughter’s steps forward and commended her for working hard. I didn’t focus on her shortcomings and stopped obsessing over what people would think about our family.

For a while, our schedule seemed to be one therapy appointment after another. Following the death of my brother from Covid, we even found a therapist for Kassadi. She had been close to him, and grief had hit her hard.

Naomi’s mental health gradually improved until, three years after arriving at our house, she felt ready to return to her adoptive parents.

It was hard to say goodbye. I reassured myself that she was only two hours away and we could visit often. Her mother texted regularly with updates. Naomi joined her new school’s cross-country team, earned good grades and found a circle of friends.

Each time a photo of Naomi’s smiling face arrived on my phone, I responded with my own smile and a whispered “Thank you.”

Naomi’s arrival sure hadn’t felt like an answer to my desperate prayers. God, of course, knew better.

Turns out, we all had a lot to learn, me especially. I know now that caring for a child’s mental health is an important part of “training her up in the way she should go.”

Kennedi graduated high school with honors and now studies public health in college. She’s a mental health advocate. She shares her experiences and encourages others to seek help when they need it. I do the same with parents I meet. I hope I can spare others the shame and helplessness I felt.

Kennedi, Kassadi and Naomi continue to meet with therapists regularly to stay on top of their mental health. It’s not quite how I envisioned things all those years ago when I planned out a perfect future for my girls.

Yet I want the best for them, and that means seeking help when needed, whether from pastors, doctors or therapists. And God, of course. Like all parents, I don’t always know what’s best for my daughters. But God does. The more I trust him, the more I become the mom I always wanted to be.

For more inspiring stories, subscribe to Guideposts magazine.

The post Therapy Brings Healing and an Answered Prayer appeared first on Guideposts.

It seems appropriate that she was born on Valentine’s Day because she exuded love. For her family, for her colleagues, for the subjects of the countless stories she wrote and edited, for Guideposts readers, for her faith community, for God’s beautiful world and the people in it.

A founding contributor, it’s hard to imagine how Guideposts would have ever happened without her; because of her contributions, it became a much-loved venue for true personal stories of faith in action. She was the embodiment of hope and inspiration. Those of us who have worked for the organization and written for it all learned from Tib. In fact, she was not only a model of a compassionate storyteller but a wonderful teacher of writing.

A Natural Gift of Writing

Back in 1951, when Guideposts was a fledgling publication, her husband, John, was hired as an editor. A natural at chasing down true first-person inspirational stories, he naturally shared with his wife what he was doing and discovered in the process what insights she had to offer, along with hr natural gift for writing.

Of course, she would never have put it that way. Modest in the extreme, self-effacing and glad to cede the limelight to others, she found a perfect calling at this little magazine in coaxing stories out of others and then helping them share their highly personal accounts of God at work in their lives for an audience of millions. She brought empathy and spiritual depth to what otherwise might have remained commonplace testimony. She never forgot the needs of the reader.

She and John met shortly after the war, in which he had served bravely with the American forces in Europe. They had both, independently, decided to go to university in Switzerland in those bleak post-war years, and they met aboard the ship en route. Clearly it was love at mere glance because the two students were soon to be husband and wife.

Meeting Eleanor Roosevelt

Former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt happened to be in Geneva at the same time—working, as always, on the peace between nations—and wanted to meet some young Americans. She was introduced to Tibby.

It’s a scene I can easily picture, the two soulful women sharing their views for hours, both of them with extraordinary gifts of listening. Both slated to fill deeper roles as women than the culture would have ascribed to them.

John would bring home stories, and Tibby—the writer, not just the ‘50s housewife—would polish them up. First quietly and then not so secretively, the two becoming a dedicated team. Len LeSourd, then editor of Guideposts, soon realized he had two fine writer-editors in one husband-and-wife team. Couldn’t they do more? And indeed, they did. So much more.

From Stories to Books

Not only were they writing for Guideposts, their stories often expanded beyond the magazine. There was David Wilkerson, a dynamic young preacher in New York reaching out to the gangs of the city; his story, with the Sherills’ help, became The Cross and the Switchblade. There was Corrie ten Boom, a Dutch woman who had shielded Jews and Dutch resistance workers during the Nazi occupation; her story became the best-selling The Hiding Place, co-written with John and Elizabeth Sherrill.

There was God’s Smuggler by Brother Andrew with the Sherrills and They Speak with Other Tongues, John’s own coming-to-faith story. The two were spiritual pilgrims, endlessly curious wanderers who visited virtually every continent on earth and always brought home stories.

Tibby was at her most profound and her most deeply personal in the hundreds of devotions she wrote for Daily Guideposts, now Walking in Grace. The spiritual insights she fearlessly shared with devoted readers over five decades reverberate to this day. Indeed, she set the standard for Guideposts devotions and for the writers who followed in her footsteps.

The Consummate Writing Teacher

In 1967, when Guideposts launched its first Writers Workshop, bringing the winning aspiring writers to New York for a week of intensive training, the magazine staff turned to Tibby. Would she help as a teacher? I can imagine her saying modestly, “Well, I’ll try.”

Not only did she try but she succeeded in extraordinary ways and for the next few decades she would be the guiding light of those workshops, not only for the winners but for all of us who’d come to Guideposts to work on staff. Her toughness as an editor was belied by her soft voice. After you spent a week learning from Tibby, you couldn’t sit down and write without her words and guidance swirling in your head. It was true for workshopper Sue Monk Kidd. For Marion Bond West. For Roberta Messner.

Editor-in-Chief Edward Grinnan, who came to the workshop shortly after he was hired at Guideposts in 1986 as an assistant editor, had a master’s degree and awards in writing from top-notch schools, and as he’d tell you today, he learned more from Tibby in that one week—more useful, practical advice—than he had in years of writing programs. “She was by far the best writing teacher I ever had.”

Tibby and John, Together in Heaven

Tibby and John moved to a retirement community in 2009 and John died in 2017, an insuperable loss for Tibby. She missed him every day. When I would call her up, we often spent much time talking about him and typically, she asked about me and about the Guideposts staff.

I can picture the two of them together now, inseparable in death as in life. Their timeless Guideposts stories, their memorable books, their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren survive them. For those of us blessed to know Tib professionally, her voice will be with us forever, in our hearts and our work.

More Elizabeth Sherrill Stories You May Enjoy 

• 10 Inspiring Articles and Books by Elizabeth Sherrill
• More Guideposts articles by Elizabeth Sherrill
• Elizabeth Sherrill: 70 Years a Guideposts Icon
• Prayers for Elizabeth Sherrill

The post Elizabeth Sherrill: Remembering a <em>Guideposts</em> Legend appeared first on Guideposts.

And the other one was, “Never give up your day job.” People always have these side hustles, and that’s great, but remember where you really make your money and where you find the most joy. Willard was the king of the side hustle long before anybody used that term. He had a birthday farm. He did freelance work. But the whole time, he was either the weatherman for WRC or the weatherman at the Today show. He still did all these other things, but he never forgot that the Today show was the main gig.

The hardest thing you’ve ever done
The hardest thing was watching my kids go off to college and/or their professional lives. When you’re used to being responsible for them and then they have to go out there and be responsible for themselves, you know they’re going to make mistakes and there are going to be issues. You want to fix everything, but you can’t do that. That’s really hard.

Your real-life hero
My wife, Deborah. She has raised three kids. She’s had a demanding career. She’s got a difficult husband. (Ha!) She does it with grace and humor and a firm hand on the tiller. If it wasn’t for her, medical stuff aside, after this last medical issue that I’ve had, I don’t think I’d be here. I think between her and our daughter Leila, they really quarterbacked all that, especially Deborah. She was really kind of the liaison between all these medical folks and my care.

What you do for your spiritual well-being
I journal every day. I write down what I was grateful for that day. Sometimes it might just be a great meal. Sometimes it might be a friend stopping by. But I always like to remember, to try to end on a positive note.

Go-to place to pray or meditate
We have a house in upstate New York, and it’s by a lake. I either like walking on the lake, depending on the weather, or if it’s warm out, I like kayaking out on the lake and getting out to the middle of it and just sitting. Especially when I’m lucky enough to be out there during the week—nobody’s out with their pontoon boats or anything. It’s quiet, and you just kind of sit there.

Favorite inspirational quote
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”–Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Occupation you would pursue if not your current one
I think it would be to become an animator. When I was a kid, my dream was to be an animator for Walt Disney, which was kind of the ultimate goal. I love the idea of being able to create your own world, create characters, breathe life into them and have people kind of fall in love with them. And you can express any emotion with a drawing that imitates life.

Early riser or night owl?
Not necessarily by choice, but I’ve always been an early riser, even before I did this job. I like early rising. It’s funny, especially on the weekends, I get up a couple of hours later, but I’m still up before everybody. And depending on the season, I either light a fire and sit in front of the fireplace and have a cup of coffee, or sit on the back porch and just look out at the trees.

Favorite comfort food
Meatloaf.

Song at the top of your playlist
Elton John, “Philadelphia Freedom.” My all-time favorite song.

A surprising detail about you
I’m extremely shy.

For more inspiring stories, subscribe to Guideposts magazine.

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My 10-year-old son, Nathan, watched me set a pan of lasagna on our kitchen table—a pan big enough to feed our family of seven.

“Yep, you and me, buddy,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

It was 7 P.M. Nathan’s siblings, all teenagers or older, were either working or out with friends.

My husband, Eric, was still at the office. As usual.

“Is Dad ever going to eat with us?” Nathan asked.

“Sure,” I said, forcing myself to sound upbeat.

I felt the opposite. I was way beyond disappointed. It was all I could do to conceal my anger about Eric’s long work hours.

I got it that Nathan’s siblings were growing up. They were in and out, like most teenagers. They always let me know when they would miss dinner.

Eric was a wonderful husband: kind, patient, faithful. He was a fun, devoted dad. He was perfect really.

Except for this. Ever since we’d married, Eric had worked crazy long hours. He and his brother had started a company that made components for jet engines. The company now employed 80 people, and Eric felt responsible for every single one of them.

I’d known Eric worked hard when we married. He was even late for our very first date. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I had to finish work on a bid.”

Eric promised the work would ease up when his company got established. Then, after business took off, he promised that things would improve after he and his brother sold the company to a larger manufacturer. The reality? Eric’s hours ratcheted up each time.

This was a second marriage for both of us. We each had two kids, and Nathan was born a year after we married. The kids were young when we married—Eric’s oldest, Austin, was 12—and for a long time I reveled in being a mom.

But as the kids grew older, the numbers at the dinner table each night dwindled. Eric’s absence became impossible to ignore.

I didn’t dare make an issue out of it.

Long work hours had destroyed my parents’ marriage. Dad was a civil engineer who owned his own company. I learned young that the boss works harder than anyone else.

My mom was lonely—and she resented it. A marriage counselor urged her to stop being a doormat, so she complained every time Dad went on a business trip or returned home late. He began staying at the office longer and longer to wait her out.

The constant fighting wore them down. They divorced as soon as my siblings and I were grown. Here’s what I took from their relationship: Bad things happen when wives complain. Better to keep quiet and find ways to cultivate a godly attitude.

My first husband had been emotionally abusive and walked out on me. I met Eric on a Christian dating website. It was as if God had picked him out just for me.

My struggles as a single mom had made me feel like a failure. Eric saw my good qualities and promised to support me in whatever I did. He was a man of prayer. He loved being with the kids. No matter how busy things got at work, he made time for their ball games and school performances.

It was me he didn’t seem to have time for. He was fully present when we were together and never canceled a date night. But we didn’t have many date nights. And Eric was often late for them.

The more my resentment built, the more I broke my vow never to complain. I issued ultimatums about dinner. Gave angry looks when Eric was late. Picked fights. Beneath it all, I worried that his love for me was getting buried by work.

One Sunday afternoon, Nathan and I plopped down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn to watch the Indianapolis Colts game. We’re big football fans in our house.

“Where’s Dad?” Nathan asked.

Eric appeared in the doorway without his Colts jersey. My heart sank.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he said. “Someone really needs my help with a contract.”

He bent to kiss me goodbye, but I turned my face away. I’d never done that before, and it shocked me. Eric pulled back. After an awkward silence, he headed to his car.

I seethed all day. By the time I put Nathan to bed, my anger had faded. All I felt was sad. And scared. Were Eric and I turning into my mom and dad? Should I redouble my efforts to keep quiet and put on a happy face?

But that obviously hadn’t been working. Besides, it didn’t seem right to keep stuffing my feelings inside.

Memories of my parents’ arguments filled my mind. There was Mom, issuing ultimatums just like me. It hadn’t worked for her either.

A thought struck me. What if the problem wasn’t that Mom had refused to put up with Dad’s hours? What if the problem had been how the two of them dealt with it?

What would happen if I leveled with Eric in a more open and non-judgmental way? After all, God had brought Eric into my life for a reason. I needed to trust that our marriage could handle a hard conversation.

Eric looked sheepish when he got home. I marched up to him, and he braced. I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I don’t want to fight. Do you think we can work together to figure this out?”

I felt him relax. He pulled me into a hug, and we held each other.

We sat at the kitchen table, and I told him everything. All my fears about becoming like my parents and how hard it was to be alone so often.

“Sometimes I worry you don’t love me anymore,” I said.

Eric put his hand on mine. “I’m so sorry, Diane,” he said. “You want to know something? I’m scared too. Part of the reason my first wife and I divorced is that she said I worked too much. But I’ll never forget when my dad got laid off and he had to mow lawns to put dinner on the table. I don’t want that to happen to us—or to my employees. Seems as if I’m always letting someone down.”

We looked at each other. I’d known about Eric’s upbringing, but I hadn’t realized how it had affected him emotionally. His honesty reminded me why I married him. Eric was a good man trying to do the right thing. And he did love me.

“I can’t promise to wave a magic wand and be home by five o’clock every evening,” he said. “Tell me what the hardest thing is for you, and we’ll work on that.”

“Eating dinner alone with Nathan every night,” I said. “I miss you, and he does too.”

“Would you ever consider bringing dinner to the office?” Eric asked. “I know it’s extra work, but then we’d be together.”

“Let’s try it. Once a week. And can I ask for something else?”

“Absolutely.”

“On-time date nights.”

He looked sheepish again. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Here’s an idea. You come pick me up. I can point out the window and say, ‘Gotta go—my wife is here.’ They can’t argue with that!”

We laughed. It felt as if a giant weight had lifted from both of us.

That conversation happened just a few months before the start of the coronavirus pandemic. Suddenly Eric was home every day. When his office reopened, he was reluctant to give up dinners at home. He began coming home at six and bringing work with him. We’d eat together, and then he’d fire up his laptop. Just having him here makes a world of difference.

The biggest difference is our renewed confidence in our marriage. Eric’s work hours were a problem, but the deeper problem was fear.

Fear is the opposite of trust. When we trusted each other—and God—everything improved. Marriage is hard work. But it’s worth it!

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The post They Saved Their Marriage by Sharing Their Fears and Frustrations appeared first on Guideposts.

The post Bible Verses to Help You Forgive appeared first on Guideposts.

Easter is a time of rebirth and a deep sense of hope. Use these powerful Easter Bible verses to guide you on this day as you reflect on the story of Jesus’ resurrection. How can you bring these Scriptures into your own life and feel the power of Jesus’ love on Easter and beyond?

READ MORE: 40 Beautiful Easter Quotes to Share

Popular Easter Bible Verses

1. Mark 16:8 – Be Amazed 

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them. (Mark 16:8) 

What would your reaction be if you went to the place where they had buried your beloved Lord and discovered the body was no longer there? The best news in the world can be so startling that we can’t embrace it at first. So it was for Jesus’ first followers. Two millennia later, the message of the Resurrection still takes me by surprise. Before singing those “Hallelujahs” at church, I find myself catching my breath. Then I utter the refrain: “The Lord is risen indeed!” 

READ MORE: 10 Easter Traditions (Old and New)

2. 1 Peter 1:3 – Give Thanks

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. (1 Peter 1:3) 

I used to wonder why we praise God. Was God so insecure as to need all that affirma­tion? No—God loves our praise because it’s good for us, like telling a colleague what a great job they did or thanking a friend. Giving credit where credit is due. ’Tis the season of praise and exclamation points! Don’t hold back. Flowers, Easter baskets, colored eggs—they’re all ways to express our exuberance. To thank the Creator for his gift to us. 

READ MORE: 10 Acts of Kindness to Do for Easter

3. Luke 18:16 – Nurture Your Inner Child 

But Jesus called for them and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.” (Luke 18:16) 

After we sing the last hymn at church, the kids dash outside for the egg hunt. The eggs and giant bunny are reminders of new life. The event mirrors the thrill of any seek-and-find spiritual journey. No matter your age, a youthful spirit is something Jesus valued. Nurture your inner child for the day.  

READ MORE: 10 Easter Eggs from Around the World

More Easter Bible Verses to Bring You Joy 

4. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)

5. But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel. And as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” (Luke 24:1-6) 

6. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. (Philippians 3:10-11) 

7. Ask the Lord for rain in the springtime; it is the Lord who sends the thunderstorms. He gives showers of rain to all people, and plants of the field to everyone. (Zechariah 10:1) 

8. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? (Romans 8:34-35) 

9. Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. (James 5:7) 

10. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. (1 Corinthians 15:20-21) 

11. I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. (John 11:25-26) 

12. Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge Him. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth. (Hosea 6:3) 

13. I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. (John 8:12) 

14. Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going. (John 14: 1-4) 

15. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1) 

16. He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time. (2 Timothy 1:9)  

17. Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. (1 Timothy 1:15-16) 

18. The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. (Lamentations 3:25-26)

19. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 1:18-20) 

20. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. (1 Peter 4:8) 

READ MORE ABOUT EASTER: 

• The Easter Story in 14 Bible Passages
• 5 Joyful Easter Devotions
• How to Pray in the Days After Easter
• The Message of Easter

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The post 20 Easter Bible Verses to Celebrate and Reflect appeared first on Guideposts.

What I couldn’t let anyone—even myself—see was that inside I felt inadequate and vulnerable, like the seven-year-old boy I used to be. A boy who was desperate for his parents to stop fighting, desperate for his father’s love.

I grew up in Flint, Michigan, the middle child of three. One of my earliest memories was of seeing my father, drunk, knock my mother to the floor. This happened regularly. Even so, I was considered lucky by neighborhood standards because my father was around and didn’t beat us kids. He was a foreman at the GM plant, a hard worker and a good provider.

My mother would say things to lay him low. She liked to scream about what a sinner he was. She was a devoted churchgoer, and she took us kids for hours-long services and Bible school. But her church was as dysfunctional as her marriage.

The pastor didn’t preach about God’s love and grace. Instead, he preyed on his congregants’ shame about their weaknesses and their fear of hellfire. What I learned was that you didn’t ever cross God. His wrath and judgment came quickly. I wanted to hide from God. He was even scarier than my earthly father.

Still, I loved my dad and yearned for him to love me. What boy doesn’t? I would watch him get ready for work. I’d try to make conversation about how he shined his shoes (he had served in the Army and still dressed with military crispness) or whatever else I could think of, but he’d give clipped answers, as if to say, “Leave me alone.”

After finishing his shift at the plant, he’d go to the American Legion hall and drink, come home, fight with my mom, yell at us kids or just sit in his chair in a stupor.

One Friday night when I was in second grade, my dad stomped into the living room, put on some sad soul music and slumped in his chair. He looked so pitiful sitting there all alone, listening to Bobby Womack. My heart ached for him. I tiptoed over, put my arms on his broad shoulders, leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He turned and stared at me in shock, as if my love was the last thing he wanted. I backed away so fast, I almost tripped. I decided then and there that I could never let myself be vulnerable again, as if I had discovered the key to my survival. Not that I knew the word vulnerable but the message was unmistakable to me: “Squash your feelings. Get tough or get eaten alive.”

Getting tough meant getting bigger. I loved art. I would sit at the kitchen table and draw superheroes with bulging muscles. I dreamed of becoming strong and powerful like that.

There was a community rec center down the street from Flint Academy, the magnet school I got into in seventh grade because of my artistic talent. At 13, I discovered the gym in the rec center’s basement. I lifted weights every day. I liked being able to control something in my life, even if it was just the way my body looked.

I could make myself look fearsome. Muscles were my superpower. Somehow, I knew my father would go too far one day, and I would need to be strong enough to take him out. No boy should have to grow up thinking like that, but at the time, I didn’t know any different. It was my reality.

I threw myself into sports. My muscles served me well, especially on the football field. Being an athlete also got me a pass from the gangs in the neighborhood. I entered Western Michigan University on a partial-tuition art scholarship. I made the football team as a walk-on.

It was there, in Kalamazoo, Michigan, that I met Rebecca King. A friend from my dorm invited me to go to church with him and his girlfriend. I was leery, given my experiences at my mom’s church. But this place had a totally different vibe, starting with the music.

Then I saw the piano player. I felt drawn to her in a way I couldn’t explain. After the service, my friend introduced us. Rebecca was a single mom with a baby. She had her own apartment, worked in a hair salon and played piano on the side. She was way more mature than I was. Still, she gave me a chance.

I had no idea what a healthy relationship was, but I knew I needed to be with Rebecca. On one of our first dates, I told her, “I don’t know where this is going to go, but I want you to know I’m willing.” It wasn’t something I planned—I never would’ve planned to open up like that. It just came out. We got married a year later, in July 1989, and started a family.

I spent seven years as a journeyman player in the NFL, a lonely existence that reinforced I could never show fear or weakness. Vulnerability and pro football don’t exactly mix. My career dictated where our family lived. I thought as husband and father I should dictate what we did. The one thing Rebecca insisted on was raising our kids in the church. In every city, she’d find a church for our family to go to. And I’d go. For her and the kids.

A year after I left pro football, we were living in an extended-stay hotel in Los Angeles, broke, mainly because I was a big spender and wouldn’t listen to Rebecca, who was frugal. (“The borrower is servant to the lender,” she’d say, quoting Proverbs.)

I got a job as a security guard on movie sets. People in the business told me I belonged in front of a camera. With Rebecca’s encouragement, I auditioned for a new reality show, Battle Dome, and landed my first TV role.

We finally had enough money to fly back to Flint for Christmas. One night, Rebecca and I let my parents babysit while we went out to dinner. My dad promised not to drink around the kids, and I decided to trust him. Big mistake. My parents got into one of their epic fights, my dad punching my mom and knocking one of her teeth sideways. My sister-in-law called and said my mom and our kids had fled to my aunt’s house.

That terrible moment I fantasized about as a kid had finally come. I broke every speed limit between the restaurant and my aunt’s. I dropped Rebecca off and rushed to my childhood home. I burst in and found my dad in the kitchen. “What the hell do you want?” he snarled.

“I’m grown now,” I told him. “And you will never lay hands on my mother again.”

Then I punched my father in the face. Hard. Years of anger were bound up in that fist.

All the impotent rage I’d felt as a child came pouring out. I hit him again and again. Finally I was spent. I stared at my father, lying on the floor, whimpering.

I’d dreamed of this moment, how good it would feel once I showed how strong and powerful I was. How I was in control now. But all I felt was empty. Hollow. My dad wasn’t the only one crying. I bawled like a baby, full of shame and remorse. I’d never felt so vulnerable than at that moment, worse than when my dad had shunned me all those years before.

We went back to L.A., and I went right back to being the alpha male with my wife and kids. I never raised my hand to them, but I tried to control them just the same. Like buying my kids the toys they wanted, then using that as leverage to lay down the law. If that didn’t work, I’d lash out verbally.

Or like the time I traded in Rebecca’s car and got her a brand-new Escalade after I got a lead role on Everybody Hates Chris. It had rims, tinted windows and everything. She didn’t want a new car, let alone something that flashy. I wanted my wife to have this status symbol because it would make me look like a big shot. I told myself I was being generous, but really, I was trying to earn Rebecca’s love with gifts. Deep down, I didn’t believe I was worthy of her love or anyone else’s—especially not God’s. I’d sit in church hoping he didn’t notice me.

The more success I had, the more bad-tempered and controlling I got, fearing it would evaporate any minute. Rebecca begged me to tell her what was going on, but I kept it all inside, all my fear and confusion, until the feelings were like a dam about to burst.

One day in February 2010, I was on location in New York City. Rebecca was home in L.A. We were arguing on the phone, and I finally broke down and told her everything I’d tried to keep hidden, emotions I didn’t even understand why I was having. Primal fears of vulnerability and loss of control that my muscles could no longer conceal.

“I love you, Terry, but if you don’t get help, I don’t see us working this out,” she said, then hung up.

I needed guidance. I picked up the phone and did something the younger me would never have considered. I called my pastor. We’d been going to Faith Community, led by Jim and Marguerite Reeve, for a while. I still thought of church as something I did only for my wife and kids. Yet somehow I knew I could trust Dr. Jim Reeve with the darkest parts of myself, as if I were being led to him.

I told him everything I’d told Rebecca, my darkest secrets, the muck of my soul. Jim listened. Then he said, “Terry, I can’t promise you you’re going to get your wife and your family back, but I can tell you that you need to get better for you.”

I had thought you did good things to avoid punishment and earn approval. Now here was a man I respected telling me to be a better person simply for the sake of being a better person. It wasn’t about what others thought of me. It was about what I thought of me. Like a burst of light, that simple wisdom changed my life.

That and a lot of therapy. Therapy helped me understand that words can hit as hard as fists, and I’d hurt my family deeply with my words and toxic behavior. I went to Rebecca at last and said, “I want to start over. I want to change.” I got on my knees. “I’m sorry. I had it all wrong.” Then, humbly and sincerely, I asked her for forgiveness.

For most of my life, something like that would have been an unbearable humiliation. Now I work every day to become a better husband and father. Rebecca and I talk to Jim and Marguerite Reeve often. We call them our spiritual parents. They’ve shown us that a loving marriage starts with God at the center.

I have discovered strength in vulnerability, for who was stronger and yet more vulnerable than Jesus, who loved the poor and weak and defied the Pharisees. Who sacrificed his earthly life so we could live with him in heaven. What requires more vulnerability than to forgive and be forgiven? Well, I’m working on that.

In the meantime, I remember that love conquers fear—always—and that to be a man means accepting myself, weaknesses and all. That’s my true superpower.

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The post How Terry Crews Discovered His True Superpower appeared first on Guideposts.

On Easter morning, families will come together to celebrate the holiday with their favorite traditions. But do you know the origin behind all your Easter customs? Are you interested in changing things up and maybe adding a new way to celebrate. Here are 10 Easter traditions—five of our favorites and five new ones to try—so you can make the most out of Easter 2023.

READ MORE: 40 Beautiful Easter Quotes to Share

Favorite Easter Traditions

1. Decorating Easter eggs

Decorating Easter eggs is a custom that originated as far back as the 13th century, yet it is still a popular tradition amongst families today. Eggs are associated with the Easter story because they represent beginnings and new life. Countries all over the world have their own customs. Like pysanky, the Ukrainian art of decorating Easter eggs with hot beeswax and dye. Or the Belgium custom of dying eggs with red onion skins and leaves.

READ MORE: 10 Easter Eggs from Around the World

With so many different styles, there really is no “right way” to decorate your eggs. When you make your own, you can use crayons, food coloring, stencils, or even paint. Decorate your eggs with images of things that bring you hope—a blooming flower, a shining sun, or your favorite animal.

2. Easter egg hunts

After your eggs are decorated, head outside to hide them for an epic Easter egg hunt. Some historians believe this tradition dates back to the 16th century, when the priest Martin Luther organized an Easter egg hunt for his congregation. Even after so many years, churches, communities, and families still take part in this fun custom.

If you are hiding them for kids or grandkids, make a map showing where all the eggs are hidden. Encourage the kids to work together so no one feels left out. Even though this Easter tradition is geared toward kids, that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it as an adult. Surprise your partner or spouse on Easter morning with your own Easter egg hunt. You can do it around the house, in the yard, or even use a map to make it a town or city-wide egg hunt.

3. Easter baskets

The Easter tradition of Easter baskets began during medieval times when people would exchange baskets to celebrate the end of Lent. Nowadays, kids and grandkids wake up on Easter morning to find a colorful basket (perhaps from the Easter bunny) filled with decorations, candy, and toys. Keep this tradition alive within your own family by making a new and unique Easter basket every year. Consider making them not just for the kids, but also for your friends, neighbors, coworkers, or people you know who may be spending their Easter alone. This tradition is a great way to give something small and let someone know that you are thinking about them.

4. Attending an Easter service

On Easter Sunday, people across the country will wake up early and dress up for Easter service. Many churches host special services and events on the day, like choral concerts and festivals. If you are considering attending an Easter service, bring the whole family and then some. See if there is anyone in your life who wants to join you. Perhaps someone who does not have anyone else to go with. Make a day of it by going out for lunch after and sharing your favorite parts of the service.

If you are not attending an Easter service this year, there are plenty of ways to celebrate Easter at home. Gather the family together and try one of these traditions:

• Say Easter prayers together as a family
• Read an Easter devotion or a spring devotion
• Share Easter Bible verses
• Read the Easter story in the Bible together

READ MORE: The Easter Story in 14 Bible Passages

5. Attend an Easter Parade

Easter parades are a tradition that started back in the 1800s, when people would promenade (or take a leisurely walk in a populated area) after Easter services. They eventually evolved into their own events that take place on the city streets. Many classic parades also include a bonnet contest where people can show off expertly crafted bonnets and win a prize. Google to see if there is an Easter parade in your town or city and make a day of it with the whole family. There are sometimes petting zoos, magic shows, face painting, and rides.

New Easter Traditions

1. Have an Easter egg scavenger hunt

This year, instead of doing the usual Easter egg hunt by searching all over the house or yard, try starting a new tradition by having a family scavenger hunt. Begin with a clue that will lead the participants to the first egg. In that egg, put a clue for the next egg. Then keep going until they find the ultimate prize at the end—perhaps a treasure trove of goodies or an Easter basket. You can have the scavenger hunt lead people around the house, around the neighborhood, or even around your whole town. Pick spots that are family favorites, like a playground, a restaurant, or a school.

Couples looking for a way to make Easter special can take up this tradition as well. Make a scavenger hunt for your spouse or partner as an Easter surprise. Pick sports that are important for you both, like where you met, the spot for your first date, the first place you kissed, or the place where you got married. End the scavenger hunt with a special Easter dinner or an Easter gift.

2. Share hope during Easter dinner

Easter dinner is a wonderful time for everyone to come together and enjoy some good food and laughs. Make the meal even more special by focusing on what this season is about: hope. Sharing what hope means to us with our loved ones can bring us closer together and help us dig deeper into the spiritual importance of this season. Here are some prompts to get you all started:

• What does hope mean to you?
• What brings you a sense of hope?
• What are you hopeful for in the future?
• How can you bring hope to others?

READ MORE: 7 Spring Prayers for Hope and New Beginnings

3. Have an Easter bonfire

The Easter custom of lighting a bonfire is actually an old tradition originating from Germany. It is meant to symbolize a light within darkness (like the Resurrection) and the end of the winter season. Bring this custom into your own family’s Easter celebrations. You can do this by lighting a fire pit in your backyard (be sure to check your neighborhood’s fire safety laws) or seeing if your community does a bonfire every year. As you gather around the fire, take turns reading an Easter Bible verse or quote, sharing any lessons you learned during the chilly winter months, or saying what you look forward to in the spring season.

4. Forgive someone

Singer Reba McEntire once said, “Easter is very important to me. It’s a second chance.” Let this season be the opportunity to give someone a second chance. Like Jesus forgiving our sins, we can embody this grace in our own Easter celebrations. Whether it’s a friend you’ve fallen out with, a coworker who bothered you, or a neighbor you never got along with, now is the time to approach life with an attitude of acceptance and mercy. Here are some ways to reach forgiveness for a past wrong:

• Write down what made you sad or angry on a piece of paper. Then tear up the paper, letting it go with each tear.
• Tell the person that you forgive them, whether in person or by letter.
• Read Bible verses or pray about forgiveness to understand it on a deeper level.
• Don’t forget that the road to forgiveness often includes forgiving ourselves as well.

READ MORE: Luke 23:34—A Closer Look at Forgiveness

5. Do a yearly act of kindness

This is a time to remember how blessed we are. This Easter, start the tradition of being a blessing for someone else. Whether you do it for a family member, friend, acquaintance, coworker, neighbor, or a stranger, doing one act of kindness every Easter can lift your spirits and remind you what this season is all about. Here are a few tips for good deeds to do. Do them on your own, with your partner, or together as a family.

• Take a meal to someone alone on Easter
• Volunteer your time on Easter weekend
• Organize a neighborhood Easter egg hunt
• Donate to an animal shelter

READ MORE: 10 Acts of Kindness to Do for Easter

The post 10 Easter Traditions (Old and New) appeared first on Guideposts.