I’m firing my secretary. She’s terrible at helping me with time management.

Of course, my secretary is me.

Right now my time management consists of rushing through daily chores the moment the baby falls asleep. That’s if he stays asleep.

I’m prioritizing the chores.

Food. The family has to eat.

Clothes. I can’t have the little men (or the big one) leaving the house smelly.

Cleaning. One chore at a time, depending on how much time I have. None of this “clean the whole house” business.

Anything else I manage to get done is icing on the cake.

I barely have time to check my email and my blog posts are sporadic, but I’m trying.

All too soon the day will come when my tiniest man allows me more freedom. Right now I’m enjoying his babyhood.

Share with me: If you suddenly found yourself with an entire hour of free time, what would you do with it?

My two oldest boys, off on a mission to save the world!

I’m surrounded by testosterone. I’m living in a house with 4 men (okay, one man and three little boys who will one day be men…)

My life is full of trains and race cars, superheroes and bikes, mud and dirt and noise and bumps and bruises, sports, sports, and more sports. How many hours straight can a dude watch ESPN before his brain explodes?

It would be easy for me to become what they are. It would be easy for me to be just “one of the boys.”

I love superhero movies. I have learned more about trains in the past seven years than I ever thought I would know. I can kick a soccer ball and play catch with my sons. I enjoy watching football. I can play “shoot ‘em up” and I’ve dusted off my Super Mario skills to keep up with the boys on the Wii.

But I’m not a boy, and I think it is vitally important that my sons know it.

While I love them and I love being involved in their lives, they need to realize that beyond the biological differences God created between boys and girls, I am a lady and I expect to be treated as such.

Why do I expect this? Because I live like a lady and I am preparing them to go out into the world as gentlemen. You’re welcome, future daughters-in-law.

My boys constantly hear the words, “This is how a gentleman treats a lady.”

I want sons who are as rough-and-tumble as the next group of boys, but I want my sons to respect women. I want them to protect women. I want them to show compassion to their future wives and develop habits that are respectable, cultured, and refined.

Why do so many women believe chivalry is dead? Because we, as women, no longer expect it to be alive. We’ve demanded equality and so we are receiving it. And it’s not always pretty.

I want to raise gentlemen. But raising a gentleman starts with me– I am the most important lady in their lives right now and my life must reflect that.

In this ever-changing world where women are becoming (and sometimes expected to be) more and more masculine, it’s no longer commonplace to find ladies among a sea of gentlemen. It’s a nostalgic thought, dead with the introduction of “equality” and Women’s Lib.

In my home boys and girls are not equals because we were created differently. I want my sons to realize the differences and step up to be the kind of men God created– ones who love and honor their wives and families, who make it a priority to provide, and put God and their families before everything else.

I have no shame in setting high expectations of my sons in all areas of their lives, including knowing that when there is a lady present, their inner gentleman must come out.

I’m old school like that and there’s no shame in it.

Share with me: What quality to you think is most important in a gentleman? In a lady?

My three precious boys!

It’s been one month since we welcomed the newest member of our family, our sweet baby boy.

One month! My how time flies!

So much has happened in this month. Not only did we celebrate Baby Boy’s birth, but we celebrated our oldest son’s seventh birthday, celebrated my husband as Teacher of the Year from his school, and lost a dear friend to cancer. We also saw our baby son’s first smiles, first bath, and first moments with his older brothers. Nothing could be more precious.

Like I said, so much has happened.

Since I’ve been away from the blog for the past month, I hope you’ve been enjoying the guest posts. I have to thank Jessica Patch, Beth Vogt, Wendy Miller, Amy Simpson, Melissa Tagg, Lindsay Harrel, Katie Ganshert, and Olivia Newport for their brilliance in guest posting while I was on “maternity leave.” I appreciate you ladies more than you know!

So let me tell you a little story about how we welcomed our son into the world. It’s a good one.

I went to the doctor the day before my due date (which was April 3) still showing no signs of labor. I was frustrated, of course, because I was too close to my due date to be showing no signs. After all, with both of my previous pregnancies, I was dialated and effaced by 39 weeks.

Going on my previous experiences, I just couldn’t understand why I wasn’t ready to give birth so close to my due date. After all, both of my other boys were born at 39 weeks, induced because of my gestational diabetes.

So after seeing my doctor that day, he decided that I could be induced on Friday, April 5, even though I was showing no signs. After all, he was taking pity on a woman who was at the end of her rope pregnancy-wise.

Here’s the kicker, though– my doctor wouldn’t be there to induce me. That week was Spring Break around here and he was going on vacation, leaving me to be induced by the doctor on call. My alternative was to wait an additional week before an induction, so I was fine with the doc-on-call. I’d seen him before and had no reason to doubt anything would go wrong. And to be honest, I just wanted to hold my son. ASAP.

Fast-forward to that Friday. We show up at the hospital at 5:30 am. I’m expecting the induction to go just like the previous 2. First a pill, lots of walking the halls, then when the contractions really start to kick in, the Pitocin would be introduced. By then I was hoping to have my epidural.

When the nurse checked me that morning, I was dialated zero. ZERO. Still no signs that our little boy wanted to be born. So she hooked me straight up to the Pitocin which not only kicked in contractions right away, but I was tied to the bed because I had to be on monitors because of the Pitocin. So no walking.

**Side note– I had the greatest nurses ever, praise God.**

Immediately I knew something was…different. I had this feeling… I told my husband, “This isn’t going to work. Something isn’t right here.” The contractions didn’t hurt.

Now let me just share with you that in my previous 2 inductions, Pitocin was known as “the devil’s juice” because it made my contractions nearly unbearable. The epidural was my saving grace.

I expected that this time. I waited for it to happen. But while the contractions finally built up to being about 2 minutes apart, they didn’t hurt. They were uncomfortable at most. And with each contraction, I felt the baby moving up into my rib cage. This is the opposite of what should be happening, yeah?

So I told the nurse. She checked me. Six hours on Pitocin and still no dialation. She said she would contact the doctor. First she cranked up my Pitocin to the max amount.

Keep in mind that I had been at the hospital six hours and still hadn’t seen the doctor on call. I was feeling pretty rattled at this point, wishing my doctor was around, and wondering if the baby would ever be born.

Two more hours go by. The contractions STOP. No joke. Eight hours on Pitocin and my body was overloaded. The contractions simply stopped.

At this point the nurse tells me that I have two options– one, go home. They’ll label it a “failed induction,” I’d see my doctor again the following week and then re-try the induction at his discretion. Option two– I could stay at the hospital overnight, they’d give me the medication to soften the cervix, and then start the induction over again on Pitocin in the morning.

At this point it’s 2 pm and I’m on the road to Freak-Out Town. Go home? Stay overnight to start again in the morning? Neither of those options was acceptable to me. I was supposed to be holding a baby in my arms already.

Since I was feeling especially frustrated and really tired, I decided that I wanted to go home. I had pretty much had it. Plus, I was starving.

My awesome nurse brought me some crackers and peanut butter and encouraged me to eat, feel better, take a few minutes to think it over, and hopefully decide to stay.

I ate the crackers. I still wanted to go home.

My nurse (seriously, she was fantastic) insisted that I see the doc on call before I went home. She called him and he came right over.

He checked me and said, “That’s weird.”

Yeah, words you don’t want to hear from a doctor. He looks at the nurse and asks for the ultrasound machine.

“I don’t feel a head,” he said.

Immediately I felt better. Know why? Because I knew it. I knew that our little stinker wasn’t in the right position. Why else would I be feeling him move up rather than down?

So the doc does an ultrasound and sure enough, Little Man has his head firmly wedged in my ribcage (which I could totally feel). He is what the doc calls “weirdly transverse” and not at all in the position to be born.

“C-section time!” Doc says.

Woo-hoo! I celebrate. Not because I want to have a c-section, but because I have an answer as to why why why why why this little boy wasn’t ready to be born.

Enter the anesthesiologist to prep me for surgery. “I ate crackers,” I say. He hangs his head. “Six hour wait time,” he says.

7 pm nursing shift change. Enter my angel, my friend Camille whom I have known for a few years, a nurse in L&D at the hospital. She’s going to be my nurse for the night. Praise the Lord!

So finally, just before 8 pm, I’m wheeled into the operating room.

I didn’t handle the c-section so well. My blood pressure bottomed out and for the entire length of the procedure I felt like I was going to lose consciousness. I never did and I was assured that I was okay, but it totally felt like an out-of-body experience to me.

“Hang on,” says the doc. “I can’t get a grip on him. He doesn’t want to come out.”

Clearly our youngest son likes to do things his way– including his birth. He simply did not want to be born!

Anywho, long story short, our son entered the world at 8:02 pm that night.

Here we are! That’s my hubby holding the baby.

Not at all the way I’d planned or the way I thought it would go, but the way God knew all along. I wouldn’t have chosen a c-section myself, but He had other plans.

When I finally saw my regular doctor the next week and told him this whole story he responded with, “No way. That is so weird!” He also told me that he was positive that every time he checked he felt our baby as head down. I’ll cut the doc some slack since his right hand was broken and in a cast and he had to feel with his left. Perhaps a bottom feels like a head when you’re using a different hand than normal.

So Little Man is here, he’s safe and healthy and perfect, and we have a good story to tell about his birth. “Weirdly transverse” has become a regular part of my vocabulary now.

Once again I’d like to say that I am sincerely grateful to the nursing staff at the hospital. Every single one of them was a huge blessing to me. Thanks, ladies!

Whew! What a month we’ve had!

Share with me: What’s the big news in your life in the last month or so?

I’m just going to say it: I’m not all that keen on reading Leviticus in the Bible.

I mean, really. Leviticus computes about as well with me as calculus. Which isn’t well.

In fact, true story: I took pre-calc my junior year of high school. At the end of the year, my teacher—frankly, one of the best teachers I ever had even if I never latched on to the subject—pulled me aside and said, “Melissa, I’d suggest not taking calculus next year.”

Also true: I didn’t.

But Leviticus. I’ve been reading it lately—more out of stubbornness than anything else, I guess. So I’m trucking along in Leviticus 9 the other day and the priests, Aaron and his sons, are beginning their ministry. God gives them some very specific instructions for burnt offerings. We’re talking, “Do this with that organ and wave these pieces in the air” etc.

And all I can think is, “How many more chapters in this book?” and “I think I’ll skip meat today.”

But then…then I get to the end of chapter 9 and read this:

“…and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people. Fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and fat portions on the altar. And when the people saw it, they shouted for joy and fell facedown.” (vs.23b-24)

I stopped. Reread the verses. And it struck me:

God showed up.

I mean, he really showed up. Enough that people were whooping and falling over.

And I started thinking about times God has shown up—sometimes in big and surprising ways—in my own life. He’s always there, always working, yes. But how easy is it to hit “going through the motions” mode and just not see Him?

Sorta like reading through Leviticus and missing those moments when God reaches down and makes Himself known.

Recently I considered buying a house. I was pretty excited about it—found a sweet townhouse in a great location for a great price. All the pieces started falling into place in pretty spectacular ways, and I was convinced I should go for it. I made an offer. And after just a few hours of counter-offering, settled on the price I’d hoped for all along.

But all through the process, I kept praying that if there was some reason I shouldn’t move forward, that God would send me a red flag. Like…a blaring, can’t-miss-this flag.

Well, the red flag came. It was an issue on the seller’s end. They had to back out.

I was disappointed, yes.

And yet…even today, weeks later, I’m still sorta excited about the way God showed up in that process. So clearly, so specifically, so undeniably. He’s good and faithful like that.

And it’s an experience I want to remember in different seasons—in the times when I may not be hearing so clearly or am caught up in the busyness of every day life. Perhaps similar to how the Israelites may have gotten in Leviticus, consumed with rules and instructions and surviving.

I want to remember that eventually, one way or another, God IS going to show up. I may not see what He’s doing now and I’m certainly not always going to understand why He has me on this or that path.

But He’s there. And He’s never inactive. And if I keep my eyes open, just like the Israelites did, I’ll see His presence at work…and experience the joy that comes along with it.

When has God shown up in your life in a surprising and undeniable way? And tell me, am I the only one who has to grit her teeth to get through Leviticus?

Melissa Tagg is a former reporter turned romantic comedy author. Her debut novel, Made to Last, releases from Bethany House in September 2013. In addition to her nonprofit day job, she’s also the marketing/events coordinator for My Book Therapy. Connect with Melissa at www.melissatagg.com and on Facebook and Twitter(@Melissa_Tagg).

I laugh in the face of writer’s block. Why? Because I’ve got back up. I tuck away ammo for days when the doldrums sneak in and try to steal my creativity. As a novelist, I consider it a great treasure hunt, a psychological expedition trying to get to know my characters better.

Today I’m providing a fresh way to understand more about the main characters you’re creating.

Oh the places we’ll go…

A Festival

The swirling lights, towering sticks of cotton candy, and overpriced games…a festival is a great venue to watch and learn.

Does she lurk on the edges or do you see her in the center of every crowd? Is she quick to race to the Ferris wheel or does she avoid heights at all costs? Did she once get so sick on a drumstick she’ll never try her luck again? What did she show up wearing? A pastel cardigan and loafers or steel toed boots and a plunging V-neck?

The Mall

One of our pastors once said you know where your loyalties lie when you review your checkbook. What better place (albeit chaotic, overpriced, and not my favorite of all places) to bring your character to observe her behavior.

Does she head straight for Barnes & Noble? Or is she buying more sugar-coated pretzels than she can carry? Does she tire quickly and call it a day after an hour or is she browsing every single storefront? How fast does she walk? Does she make conversation with anyone or is shopping all business with her? Does she have the money to buy what’s she’s ogling?

A Sporting Event

This is where my husband would love to zap me into a character so I’d go with him to a sporting event. That aside, what fun to see how your character would react to the wave, the break-your-budget cost of food, the jeering and cheering crowds.

Does she wear layers or is she freezing the whole time? Does she avoid going to the bathroom at all costs? How rowdy does she get? Does she meld with the crowd or stand out like an oversized thumb (guess she wouldn’t stick out much at all with those awkward fan thumbs wielding around in the wind)? Who does she root for or does she discreetly pull a book out of her purse?

The Library

Ah, my haven. Enough about me…what does she do?

Does she dart in and out within a matter of seconds? Does story time catch her eye? Is she able to carry all of her books out without tripping? What kinds of books has she checked out? Does she ask anyone’s opinion about a specific book? Does she use the library system to look anything up or browse randomly?

An Elementary School Field Trip

Yah hoo…a field trip.

It almost doesn’t matter where she goes. What’s more important is how she interacts with the children. Is she constantly rolling her eyes or is she laughing and giving high fives as they learn new things? Did she preplan and bring wipes for sticky hands? Does she take notes? Is she sad because of something she remembers about her own childhood? Where does she sit on the bus?

Church

Pretty sure I don’t need to expound upon this one much.

Her actions will scream at you if you choose to bring her here. Tears, non-stop fidgeting, swaying to the worship music, going over her bills, head bent in reverent prayer? Watch closely. See her. Let her show you who she is.

Have you ever been inspired to come up with unconventional ways of getting to know your characters better? Which one of the above has the potential to reveal the most about a character you’ve created?

 Bio: Wendy lives in New England with her husband, their three young girls, and a skunk-dodging Samoyed. She feels most alive when she’s spending time with loved ones, speeding on a boat, reading, writing, refurbishing furniture or taking risks. Her work has been published in Christian Fiction Online and in numerous anthologies, including Love is a Flame published by Bethany House. She graduated with a BA in English from Wittenberg University, where she earned an Honor of Distinction for her accrued knowledge of literature. Visit http://thoughtsthatmove.blogspot.com/ to learn more about Wendy. Or check out her Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/Writer-Wendy-Paine-Miller/232985413400039 and Twitter https://twitter.com/wendypmiller pages.

I’ve always been an overachiever. Yes, I’m that annoying one that had to get straight A’s in high school so I would get a full scholarship. Had to graduate early and have a full year of college completed before I’d even started. And then of course, I had to wrap up my academic career in the same exhausting fashion of perceived perfection.

Maybe it had something to do with being naturally blonde, and constantly perceived to be an airhead. (Blondes are more fun, people. Don’t hate.) Or maybe it had something to do with my upbringing in the church.

The Law. (Dun dun duhhhh!) From Sunday school to youth group, the rules are laid out very clearly. Do’s and don’ts. Thou shall’s and thou shalt not’s. Striving toward the goal. Running the race to win.

Not that I was under the impression that imperfect adherence to these laws would incite some sort of heavenly smack down, but I was in love with a Savior and felt that obedience and offering a pure and holy sacrifice was the best (maybe the only) way to express my love.

But have you ever been up on a pedestal? Man, it’s rough up there! Whether someone put you there or you did it yourself, it is not an easy place to be. There is always so much to lose. So much pressure. So far to fall.

You want so desperately to use your gifts and your zeal to fulfill God’s calling, but so often, you don’t know what the heck it is. Don’t know how to get to where you need to be to be good enough.

The apostle Paul, a very wise man, tells us in Romans 12:1…

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.

This was always a head-scratcher for me. Yes, I want to be holy. I want to be perfect for God. But that perfection I am always striving for is impossible. None of us are worthy of the sacrifice of perfection that happened on that cross two thousand years ago. And nothing we can do can make us so. We are flawed. Tarnished from the very beginning—though we do a fair job of racking up the stains ourselves, don’t we? It’s not that I don’t want to try, but aren’t I, by nature, destined to fail?

If you go back and read Romans 12 again you’ll see that we are not meant to offer up some dry, crusty old relic. Something dead and frozen in its perfection like a statue. (Statue’s have no problems staying on pedestals.)

What we have to offer is living, breathing, moving and by default imperfect. It’s also the way he created us.

He hasn’t called for us to offer flawless love, flawless service, flawless thoughts or actions or intentions. He called us to offer our ALL. Flaws required. Because that means we can rely on Him in our weakness. We can trust Him with our scars. We aren’t out to boast our righteousness and we aren’t holding things back for ourselves.

If we really present ourselves as living sacrifices—giving Him our hearts and hopes, our stains and sparkles, our bodies and our minds, we are perfectly imperfect in Him.

Share with me: Do you have any “flaws” or imperfections that have shown themselves to be assets before the Lord? Or perhaps you have something you perceived as a “flaw” that God has used to teach you and bring you closer to Him? What’s your perfectly imperfect story?

Jennifer here: To answer the question above, I’d say that I sometimes feel like I have to tone down my strong personality. However, I’ve learned that my personality, just the way God made me, includes qualities of leadership and teaching. Also, I’d say that the infertility issues I’ve suffered have definitely become a testimony of faith and of ministering to others. I’m perfectly imperfect, too!! (In lots of ways!) Thanks so much for sharing, Amy!

Amy Leigh Simpson is the completely exhausted mother of two of the most fearless, rambunctious, and adorable toe-headed toddler boys in the Midwest. She writes Romantic Suspense and loves to take readers on a spirited journey of finding grace and redemption through stories that are equally inspiring, nail-biting, and hilarious–and maybe a little saucy! She is represented by Chip MacGregor.

Connect with Amy on:

-The Writers Alley http://thewritersalleys.blogspot.com/

-Her personal blog http://writersbreakroom.blogspot.com/

-Facebook http://www.facebook.com/amyleigh.simpson.50

Sometimes in life, things happen that seem like coincidences.

You see someone in the grocery store you were just thinking about.

You read a book and the heroine has your birthday.

Your vacation days just happen to fall during your family reunion.

Little things. Things that don’t seem to hold much significance but are cool nonetheless.

But other times in life, something happens—sometimes a string of somethings—and they stop you in your tracks and you go, “Whoa. That was totally God.”

A string of somethings like that happened in my life recently. I’d been worrying about some big decisions and some other things out of my control.

One thing about me—the biggest thing I struggle with is worry. I know I shouldn’t worry, and I know that I can control it, but for some reason, I tend to focus instead on things OUT of my control.

Which makes no sense.

But I digress.

So I’d spent a few weeks thinking and worrying about these few issues. And then one day, a song came on the radio: “Strangely Dim” by Francesca Battistelli. It’s beautiful, as is the singer’s voice, but these lyrics are really what caught my heart:

When I fix my eyes on all that You are
Then every doubt I feel
Deep in my heart
Grows strangely dim
All my worries fade
And fall to the ground
‘Cuz when I seek Your face
And don’t look around
Any place I’m in
Grows strangely dim

The song was so powerful I just sat there and worshipped.

Here was a command directly from God: stop worrying and SEEK MY FACE. When I can do that, my problems don’t seem so big. And even though I’m not in control, I’m looking to God and He IS in control…and that makes it all seem so much better anyway.

As if that weren’t enough, the VERY NEXT MORNING, my devotional, Jesus Calling, had this to say. Not even kidding, this was the first sentence:

“Save your best striving for seeking my face.”

Um, don’t know what you would do, but I fell flat on my own face and nearly cried.

Because the Lord, the Creator of everything, cared enough about me to stop me in my worry—in my everyday go-go-go—and tell me not once, but twice, that all I really had to do was seek His face.

Your Turn: Have you ever had a fall-flat-on-your-own-face moment because of something that seemed coincidental—but you knew it was anything but?

Since the age of six, when she wrote the riveting tale “How to Eat Mud Pie,” Lindsay Harrel has passionately engaged the written word as a reader, writer, and editor. She has a bachelor’s in journalism and a master’s in English, and is published in the Falling in Love with You anthology released by OakTara in October 2012. Lindsay lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband of six years and two golden retriever puppies in serious need of training. Connect with her on her blog or via Facebook or Twitter (@LindsayHarrel).

I pray for imaginary people.

Before you stamp the word “Certifiable” on my forehead, let me explain.

As a novelist, I wreak havoc in the lives of fictional characters. That’s one of the basic rules of fiction writing: Ensure things go from bad to worse to don’t-make-me-do-this disastrous.

Why?

Manipulating my characters is all about getting them to change. I use the circumstances I’ve plotted out for them to help them see how they believe – and do – the wrong thing.

And this is where God fits in.

As a writer desiring to weave biblical truth through her novels, I want God to weigh in on what’s happening in my characters’ lives. In writer-speak, we call this the “spiritual thread” of a novel – how a character changes when he or she confronts false beliefs and replaces them with God’s truth.

So, while I have to mull over a lot of things whenever I map out a novel – characters’ names, characters’ pasts, characters’ desires – I don’t have to fabricate the truth they need to discover.

And that’s where praying for imaginary people comes in.

My prayer goes something like this: God, if Kendall (my heroine in my upcoming release, Catch a Falling Star), were a real person, what would you say to her? What does she need to know about you that’s she’s forgotten or missed altogether?

Does this praying to God about a made-up heroine sound a bit silly to you? It’s not … really. Are Kendall Haynes and Griffin Walker, my two main characters in Catch a Falling Star, figments of my writer’s imagination? Yes. Are all characters in a novel made up? Absolutely.

But God is oh-so-real.

And that’s one of the reasons I write fiction.

Imaginary characters, meet the very real God.

And, along the way, I hope my very real readers run into Him too.

Share with me: What fiction novels have touched your spiritual side and left a God-shaped impact on you?

Jennifer here– I was recently very moved by the characters in Francine Rivers’ Mark of the Lion series, specifically book two, An Echo in the Darkness. The faith of the characters truly convicted me!

Author Bio: Beth K. Vogt is a non-fiction author and editor who said she’d never write fiction. She’s the wife of an Air Force family physician (now in solo practice) who said she’d never marry a doctor—or anyone in the military. She’s a mom of four who said she’d never have kids. She’s discovered that God’s best often waits behind the doors marked “Never.”

Her contemporary romance novel, Wish You Were Here, debuted in May 2012 (Howard Books), and Catch a Falling Star releases this May. Beth is an established magazine writer and editor, and is also the Skills Coach for My Book Therapy, the writing community founded by best-selling author Susan May Warren.

You can connect with Beth via her website!

Are you living life to the fullest?

Jesus said that he came so that we could live life to the fullest, or abundantly (John 10:10). When I was growing up in a galaxy far, far away, I learned that this was about the incredible life we could have in kingdom of heaven some day when God called us home and we’re finished passing through this miserable world.

I don’t believe that anymore, and haven’t for a long time.

I hear Jesus telling us that the kingdom of God is near, at hand, close to us (Mark 1:14). Right here.

I hear Jesus calling us to live smack in the middle of kingdom themes: love, forgiveness, justice, mercy. And life.

Jesus came to bring us life. He came to restore our broken connections with God, each other, and ourselves. And I think those of us who believe in the truth and glory of Jesus can do a better job at living.

We think life is not surrendering any ground to death, the great enemy. And we think being healthy is not being sick, much less dead. In an age of medical technology that truly works wonders, we take pills and undergo procedures and spend an awful lot of energy fighting death.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not disparaging modern medicine. I once had a procedure done on my heart that used to be life-threatening open heart surgery and now is an outpatient procedure where you go home and sleep in your own bed and go back to work in three days. It changed the quality of my life more than I can calculate.

But more and more I lean toward the idea that instead of scrambling against the leading causes of death, we ought to be embracing the leading causes of life. A few years ago I read a book called The Leading Causes of Life by Gary Gunderson (with Larry Pray). Gunderson, a listened-to voice in the field of health and faith, lays out five leading causes of life that affect both physical and spiritual health.

1. Connection—we are not meant to be alone; we are meant to be connected to God and others.
2. Coherence—our life tells a story of belonging and meaning.
3. Agency—we need the capacity to take action to answer a call.
4. Blessing—this is a way of life that leads to wholeness, not how much stuff we have.
5. Hope—we believe that meaning transcends our circumstances and suffering, whether mild or extreme.

Research shows that if we have these features in our life, we are less likely to succumb to the leading causes of death—heart disease, stroke, obesity and so on. As people of faith it should not surprise us that body and spirit communicate back and forth in both directions.

Are you seeking abundant life—life to the fullest that God wants for us to experience? Let me leave you with three questions to ponder.

1. What are you doing to promote your own spiritual and physical health?
2. What are you doing to promote the wellness of people close to you?
3. What are you doing to promote the wholeness of people you don’t even know?

We live life to the fullest when as the people of God living in the kingdom of God we carry each other to the fullness of God.

Olivia Newport is a novelist whose books twist through time and discover where faith and passions meet. Her titles include The Pursuit of Lucy Banning, The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow, Accidentally Amish, and the forthcoming In Plain View.
You can connect with Olivia via her website!

I don’t remember the exact details of how Jennifer and I met, I just know that writing brought us together. We started emailing back and forth and soon discovered we had many things in common.

One being that we both struggled with secondary infertility.

Like Jenny, I was able to get pregnant with our son, who is now four, without any problems. My husband and I took for granted that we’d be able to have another. But after a year and a half of trying, we started to realize that maybe it wasn’t going to happen.

With every negative pregnancy test and every day Brogan got older and every time well-intentioned people asked, “When are you going to give that son or yours a little brother or sister?”, the vision I had for our family began to fade. I won’t lie. The fading was painful.

At the time, I didn’t understand why we couldn’t conceive. There was no medical explanation for it. On paper, we should have been able to get pregnant. So why wasn’t it happening?

Here’s what I’m learning about God:

He doesn’t just close a door to close a door. He closes a door in order to open another.

For us, that other was adoption.

It wasn’t a coincidence that as we struggled with infertility, God kept bringing people into our lives who were adopting. It wasn’t a coincidence that eight years before, for no apparent reason, I wanted to move to Africa so I could love on kids in orphanages all day. It wasn’t a coincidence that God gave me a husband with a tender, tender heart for the helpless and the hurting.

He’d been preparing me to say Yes long before I ever knew adoption was on the table.

So we did. We said yes.

I’ve been paper pregnant for 17 months now, with at least six months left to go.

It hasn’t been easy. In fact, it’s been incredibly hard.

But I’ve experienced first-hand how very much God meets us in the hard. He’s present through it and He has a purpose for it.

He has used the agonizing waits and the endless paperwork and the strain of finances and the ups and downs that inevitably come with adoption to bring forth a fierce, uncompromising love for a child who’s not even mine yet.

He has used this crazy journey to infuse an emotional intimacy in my marriage that wouldn’t have been there otherwise.

He has used the heartache and the unknown to draw me closer and closer to Him.

And I can honestly say, no matter how hard it’s been, that there is no other path I’d rather be on than this one.

If you’d like to join us on this path, you can! We are in the process of raising the rest of the funds we need to bring this precious child home from DR Congo. All that’s involved is a puzzle, a sharpie, and 500 willing hearts. 385 have stepped up so far. Might you considering being one of the 115 remaining? For $10, you can sponsor a piece of our little one’s adoption puzzle (see photo above!!). We will write your name on the back and when the puzzle is complete, we will frame it in double-sided glass and hang it in our child’s room—a beautiful testimony to just how loved and wanted this little one was.

We have 115 pieces left to go! All donations are tax-deductible.

Please shoot me an email (ganshertadoption@gmail.com) if you’d like to donate!

Let’s Talk: What unexpected doors has God opened in your life?

Katie Ganshert was born and raised in the Midwest, where she writes stories about finding faith and falling in love. When she’s not busy plotting her next novel, she enjoys watching movies with her husband, playing make-believe with her wild-child of a son, and chatting with her girlfriends over bagels. She and her husband are in the process of adopting from the Congo. You can find her online at her blog and on Facebook.