Living with Fear? Break UP with Fear for Good

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Fear began stalking me a couple of years ago. I admit, I let it follow me at a distance for years.

But then I made one of the biggest mistake of my life.

I allowed Fear to move in, along with all its baggage. Once inside, Fear drudged up daily anxiety. Before I knew it, panic plagued my sleep. I even started grinding my teeth, breaking several in the process.

Fear took over my life, steered my every decision, and wringed joy clear out of my life. Fear held me hostage from writing for so many years.

Can I just confess something to you? I have MAJOR social media anxiety. My face flushes and my pulse rises before I hit “publish” on this blog, Facebook, and even Twitter for goodness sakes.

I’m afraid of snarky comments from Internet bullies. I’m scared of people laughing at me, or worse, thinking I love the limelight.

See the fear I’m up against?

For years, I’ve lived in a Fear-spun prison, but that ends today. This week, my writer friend Heather Creekmore challenged me to blog once a week “no matter what”—and to post to social media.

I’ve taken her up on the challenge, and I’ve learned a two huge things about Fear.

#1 If we want to break up with fear, we must defeat unbelief.

If you look closely, you’ll see that Fear’s ugly underbelly is unbelief.

We evict Fear from our lives the same way we kick an abusive boyfriend to the curb. And I’m not talking about getting a baseball bat—but calling in the authorities.

For years, I tried to rid myself of Fear, but it always came back. This time, though, I’ve taken my unbelief to God—the ultimate authority—and asked Him to help me kick Fear where it hurts.

I asked for faith—raw belief—the unshakable kind I can’t stir up on my own. All I can say is, it’s working.

#2 Fear looks scarier than it is.

Remember Scooby Doo? As a kid I lived for the big villain reveal at the end. Once Wilma or one of the others took off the villain’s mask, we saw the truth. Beneath the costume, a person appeared.

This reminds me of Fear. Fear wears a disguise, always duping us into believing the worst case scenario. Click To Tweet

But something wonderful happens when we muster the courage to face it. When we look under Fear’s mask, we will probably laugh at ourselves for being so afraid.

ScoobyDoo

Instead of a big, hairy monster, we see an ordinary problem that God’s already given us the grace to handle.

Do you need to sever your relationship with Fear? With God’s help you can put an end to that toxic relationship.

Will you join me the challenge to kick fear in the face? Leave a comment below about a fear you’re up against, and I would love to pray for you this week.

I’m looking forward to our discussions here every week.

Hope for Those Feeling Weak

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I need you to tell me that I’m enough.

I texted my husband this message the way a sinking ship shoots up a flare.

Perhaps you’ve been in a similar sinking boat of emotions, feeling run down, depleted, or small.

Worthless, even.

I can barely whisper this bully of a word. I certainly don’t want you to know how I’ve cowered in its shadow most of my life.

Worthlessness is the single thread running through all my issues—all my hang-ups and failings.

Am I enough? Am I worthy of time, attention, affection?

This slave driver runs my life, driving me to prove myself to the world, but here’s the good news. We can choose to bask in God’s love.

We can trade worthlessness for wild love. Click To Tweet

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My friend Mary DeMuth just wrote a whole book on this subject. In Worth Living: How God’s Wild Love for You Makes You Worthy, Mary teaches us how to defeat the 10 lies that kill our worth.

If you find yourself engulfed in the flames of insecurity, this book extinguishes fire.

It teaches how to get off the treadmill of perfectionism, how to unshackle your worth from your to-do lists.

And I’m learning so much from it, bookmarking page after page, like this gem:

“If our worth is settled, we no longer have to run around this life desperately trying to prove it. We no longer have to use people’s opinions to feel better about ourselves. We can give up trying to do so many things in order to garner applause.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of doing things out of worry, fear, and guilt.

When we know God’s audacious love deep in our bones, “we live an abundant life based on our worth. We become irresistible to others who are hungry for our settled sense of worth and worthiness,” Mary writes.

So, when I’m tempted to believe my worth hinges on my productivity—how well I’m measuring up to my to-do list, I remember the truth.

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This book ya’ll!—if you buy and read one book this year, you won’t regret this one.

You are wildly, wonderfully loved. You don’t have to live with roller-coaster feelings of… Click To Tweet

 

 

Bound for Bangkok

A Bangkok peanut salesman. Photo by Tord Remme, via Fllickr.

A Bangkok peanut salesman. Photo by Tord Remme, via Fllickr.

Photo by Mike Behnken, via Flickr.

Photo by Mike Behnken, via Flickr.

Ten years ago, while sitting in the breakroom of at work, I overheard a colleague tell a bad joke. I only remember the sophomoric humor ended with the punchline “Bangkok.”

I remember laughing a little too late and worrying that this joke-teller, a senior copyeditor at the newspaper, might doubt my knowledge of geography.

Since I billed myself as a “global citizen,” this bothered me.

I studied international relations in college, made sushi with my Japanese roommates, and waited tables alongside students from Nepal, Pakistan, Lebanon, and all across the Middle East.

When work slowed at the restaurant, we quizzed each other with games like: “Name the capital cities that begin with the letter ‘B.’”

Brussels, Budapest, Buenos Aries. I don’t know if I would have listed Bangkok back then.

I never dreamed I would visit Thailand’s capital city, home of the “reclining Buddha,” the Grand Palace, and a whole lot of spicy street food. Isn’t it just like God to take us to places we don’t plan to go?

God recently opened the door for me to teach pastors how to write and publish in their native languages. In June, I’ll travel to RREACH’s Global Proclamation Congress, where more than 5,000 pastoral trainers will gather from all over Asia.

Through two seminars, I’ll pass on my passion for good writing and God’s Word, and how these go hand in hand.

I work for a nonprofit that publishes Bible resources in languages that need them most. Authenticity Book House is like the Wycliffe of Bible commentaries.

Through ABH, I’ll help give away thousands of Bible commentaries to pastors who need resources.

Did you know 95 percent of pastors worldwide receive no pastoral training whatsoever? That’s 450 pastors with no training to every 1 who receives the gift of education.

Would you consider praying for me as I travel to Bangkok?

  • Would you pray for strategic partnerships with editors and translators?
  • And for us to give away 1 million free downloads.

If you would like to consider supporting this Bangkok trip financially, a gift of any amount is appreciated. You can give here, but please add my name and “Thailand mission trip” to the notes section.

I would love to hear if you’ve ever been in or near Thailand. What was it like?

Has God ever taken you somewhere you thought you’d never go?

Grand Palace, via Flickr, Creative Commons.

Grand Palace, via Flickr, Creative Commons.

 

Water taxis in Bangkok, via Flickr, Creative Commons.

Water taxis in Bangkok, via Flickr, Creative Commons.

The Myth of “One Day”

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For years I thought I could finally relax, finally rest and feel satisfied once my world was in the order.

Once my house was cleaned . . .

Once the kids were in bed . . .

Once we could save a little money . . .

Once our careers really got of the ground . . .

Once I attained my ideals I thought the emptiness—the gnawing hollowness and discontentment would fade. I thought once I achieved “enough,” I’d be satisfied, but that day never arrived. Click To Tweet

I finally did get my house cleaned, and the kids in bed, and a little money saved. Our careers really began to fly, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something.

Meanwhile, I had dinner to cook and soccer practices to cart the kids to. We bought a house in the suburbs, the kind of neighborhood I never thought I’d live in, with a lake and manicured lawns. Time slipped by and I kept sensing the hollow feeling, that I was meant for more and made for more.

I totally misinterpreted this restlessness. I pushed myself to produce and do more. And boy did I have things to do with the diapers and dishes stacking up. And then, in what must have been an act of insanity, I volunteered my husband and I to take over the youth group at our church. In the flurry of activity and then a new baby, I kept coming up empty. I knew the answer was in Jesus. Of course I did.

But I was Eve staring at that piece of forbidden fruit, dissatisfied with the known. Always wanting more.

The Path to Lasting Satisfaction

That first sin crippled mankind’s ability to live loved by destroying mankind’s relationship with God. The world has never been the same.

I picture sin’s entrance into the world a bit like the movie The Wizard of Oz, only in reverse. When Dorothy reaches the way to Oz, the yellow brick road, her world transforms from black and white into a Technicolor dream. Sin, on the other hand, left humans in grainy black and white, the absence of God’s presence.

Sin’s devastation wreaked havoc on the union Adam and Eve shared with God. It ended their strolls their the garden. I can’t imagine the regret Adam lived with, the gaping absence of God’s nearness. The pain he must have suffered the remainder of his life. How do you live in harmony with all of nature, wielding the greenest thumb of all time, only to battle with the ground by the sweat of your brow?

To know Love himself, but then lose intimacy with him? To go from ultimate satisfaction, finding identity in God alone, but to have that ripped away only to face frustration and discontentment?

Imagine winning an all-inclusive vacation package, complete with decadent food, expensive drinks, and an opulent suite, only to be kicked out of the resort. A few days later, you sit hungry and alone, eating leftovers out of a restaurant’s trash can on the other side of the island. You remember the taste of the creme brulee, the bubbly feeling of champagne in your mouth.

When you’ve tasted perfection how do you return to bland food?

The ache for more that we all experience is the echo of eternity written on our hearts (Ecc. 3:11). Click To TweetPerfect Love continues to woo us—the dissatisfied and disappointed, the forbidden-fruit eaters, the fail-ers and the unfulfilled. We don’t pursue God without him first pursuing us. We love God because he first loved us (1 John 4:19). No one comes to the Father unless the Spirit first draws them (John 6:44). God invites us to seek fulfillment in him.

He longs to rescue us from eating out of the trash heap so we can be his guests at a never-ending feast.

Author’s note: The above is an excerpt from my work in progress, a book about chasing contentment in God.

4 Reasons I Quit Using My Bible App

Why I Quite Using Add heading

I never meant for my phone’s Bible app to replace my Bible. It just sort of happened.

Gradually, YouVersion was the only way I read the Bible. It started off great. I kept track of where I left off. I could listen and read simultaneously, which added depth to my reading.

Then laziness set in and I only half-heartedly listened. Here’s where it gets embarrassing. At some point I discovered all the multitasking I could do while listening to my Bible . . . like play Solitaire.

Even as I completed my reading each day, I wasn’t getting anything out of it. My mind wondered, and when I used my phone app, it wondered A LOT.

I can’t even tell you the number of times I opened the wrong app. Call it muscle memory, but my fingers seemed to always find Facebook or Twitter. And just like that twenty minutes vanished.

So I’m quitting my Bible app and here’s four reasons why:

1. I’m going back to my leather Bible because I want my kids to see me reading it. I want them to see me pacing around the house with my nose in the Book, not the app. God knows they see me often enough with my phone. I want them to know mommy reads her Bible.

2. I miss holding the soft leather cover and flipping the thin pages. I love to underline and write in the margin. I know you can do that in the app, but it’s not the same as inking a sentence I hope my grandchildren will one day read. Turns out, Crossway makes a Bible for scribblers like me. You can check it out here.

3. I want to linger on the pages. Since the app the quality of my Bible reading has slipped big time. I love the Bible app in a pinch and for those who wouldn’t otherwise read it, but I know me. I tend to hustle through. I don’t want to read the Bible the same way I read my e-mail or text messages.

4. I want to remember where stuff is. Remember Bible drills? I dominated at that game. The youth leader would usually say. “Take out your swords,” (meaning the Bible). Next we would race to whatever obscure book and verse they called.

Today, while thumbing through my Bible, I caught myself thinking, “Where is Galatians again?” Use it or lose it as they say. I’m already losing so much attention and focus to my phone. I don’t want to lose this too.

Don’t everyone go quit your Bible app. YouVersion and other apps are wonderful tools, and the app developers are pure geniuses. But for me, the decision seems right at this stage in my life.

I may still use it from time to time, when I’m in a waiting room or to listen to it in the car. I’m sure I’ll whip it out when life gets hectic, but I’m done with depending on my phone for my Bible.

I’m saving my phone for audiobooks and e-books, not for reading the Good Book. For that I want to hold it in my hands and flip the pages.

What about you? What’s your favorite way to read the Bible?

Laundry, Motherhood, Prayer

IMG_0007.JPGAs a child I daydreamed of monasteries and monks and what it would be like to cloister away all day to pray and read.

I love solitude, and I thought monks—with all their praying—were as close to God as you could get.

Ok, maybe I was a weird kid. But even as a child I saw prayer’s importance.

In junior high I scrawled my prayer needs into a journal, faithfully tending that list. By high school praying had etched itself in me, carrying me through two years of ministry training and then college.

I never really struggled to pray—not until marriage and motherhood, when diapers and dishes swallowed up my time. After kids, the question, “Have I prayed today?” quickly turned into “Did I remember to brush my teeth?”

On these days I appreciate the simple prayers—what Anne Lamont calls the “three essential prayers, “Wow,” “Help,” and “Thanks.”

Motherhood showed me how I complicated prayer. I treated prayer like an end itself—like a spiritual barometer—not the bridge to know Jesus.

I no longer see prayer like a subject we can master. It’s not a game we win or lose.

Imagine if we charted and measured how much we talked to our spouses or our children?

God doesn’t watch us from on high with a stop watch, calculating how many minutes we devote, just like I don’t carefully measure the minutes my sons spend with me.

But I do take note when they choose to snuggle up next to me. I notice their small acts of gratitude and love. God, too, notices when his children trust him enough to come—not out of duty—but out of love. God doesn’t judge us by the clock, but he does test our hearts for faith.

Sometimes we forget that mountains don’t move because of heavy-duty lifting in the act of prayer, but the faith behind the prayer—faith in the Mountain Mover.

We earth-dwellers so often forget that without faith we will never please God (Heb. 11:6).

As humans this confounds us. I can picture myself in that fanatical crowd after Jesus feeds the five thousand. They can’t wait to find out what they must do to accomplish God-pleasing work. Jesus’ answer still catches me by surprise.

He didn’t tell them to go to the synagogue to pray for hours or send them away pledging a laundry list of good works.

Here’s how John’s Gospel records it, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent’” (John 6:29).

Believing. The true work of God is not in doing, but believing.

Allow that truth to sneak into your heart and smuggle out the fear your prayers don’t matter or measure up. Allow the grace-healing power of belief to set you free so you can keep trusting and talking to the One who offers unending relationship.

And when we begin to remember that our prayer walk is really a love walk, we’ll run to prayer

Practical Prayer Help

  • Don’t wait for quiet to have a “quiet time.” Solitude may never come, but God can calm your nerves and anxious heart when the house pulses with the busyness of life.
  •  Plan it. Set your alarm and coffee pot. If you want to develop a workout routine, habit experts tell us to lay out our clothes the night before. In the same way remove some of the barriers to prayer. Get your spot ready, complete with Bible, blanket, pen, and notepad.
  • Carve out time. Make what Ann Voskamp calls “hard stops” to pray. I think of these as little mini vacations from work and kids—time to connect with God, if only for five minutes.
  • Get sleep. Sleep might as well be a spiritual disciple because without enough of it, all the other spiritual disciplines falter.
  • Walk. For me motionless prayer so often lapses into sleeping, so I pace around my house to keep myself awake and focused. If you’re able, quit the house for a prayer walk outside.

Birthing Dreams and Needing Someone to Believe in You

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They don’t call it the ring of fire for nothing.

The baby’s head was crowning, and my midwife could see his full head of curly brown hair.

“Push,” she said for the fifteenth time. The pain was immense. So was the fear, and as I sat fully dilated in tub of warm water, this wasn’t a great time to lose my faith in natural birth.

I was seconds away from holding my baby if I could just push a little harder…

But instead of pushing I wanted to give up. I questioned my ability to give birth to this kid, and the soundtrack in my head went a little like this:

You’re incapable.

You can’t do it.

They’re going to have to cut this baby out of you.

Almost as soon as I heard those thoughts, they were coming out of my mouth.

“Maybe I need a C-section. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Thankfully, my midwife and nurses believed in me, even when I didn’t. My husband and mother believed in me too.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, God believed in me.

“Push,” she said again. So I did, not the test-the-water, half-hearted pushing, but the real, let’s-get-this-baby-out kind of pushing.

I knew the difference then, and I know it now. Sometimes I want to dip my toe in the water and talk about doing hard things, but other times I do those hard things.

There’s pushing in fear, and then there’s pushing past fear.

Are up against something tough? Or maybe God made you mayor of Toughville? Don’t bow to fear. Don’t give way to panic.

When fear crops up, find friends to ground you. Find a community to believe in you.

A friend recently reminded me of the ugly, beautiful chaos of birth. She’s helping me stay grounded and give birth to my own little bundle of a book.

What dreams are you wanting to give birth to? What tough things do you need to push through?

Find a way to silence the self-doubt and the mental fortitude to bear down and push past the pain. I believe in you and so does God.

It’ll all be worth it.

Healing for Marked Hearts

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Nine-year-old Dipa lives in India. Her uncle raped her last week. But that’s not the truly shocking part.

More than half of Dipa’s fourth-grade class has been raped or molested, according to a 2007 government survey. Visit any playground or school in India, rich or poor, boys or girls—53 percent are victims of sex abuse.

The atrocity of sexual abuse spans the globe and millions just like Dipa suffer in silence. They need hope and healing for wounds that run deep, piercing even into adulthood.

But often that hope never comes. Many victims don’t dare risk the stigma and shame associated with telling their story. No one talks about sex abuse.

That’s where the Healing for Marked Hearts campaign makes a difference. The Christian publisher I work for hopes to  place a purse-sized book in the hands of these silent victims—a book translated into their own language.

Dipa speaks Marathi, and few resources exist in her language. As a Christian publisher we want to fix this problem, and we have the perfect solution.

Mary DeMuth gave us permission to translate her book, Not Marked—a guidebook for sex abuse victims—into Dipa’s language.

With your help, we can translate this book into Marathi, Mandarin, Spanish, and even more, to provide hope to Dipa and others just like her. Translating, producing, and printing books cost money, and we can’t do it alone.

Will you help us bring hope to these marked hearts?

Not Marked voices Mary’s healing journey and beckons readers to risk the same journey toward emotional, physical, spiritual, and mental health.

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Heal Marked Hearts with Ultimate Hope

The Healing for Marked Hearts campaign will equip churches, crisis centers, and missionaries with both the full-sized book and mini books.

Although full of practical advice for trauma survivors, “Not Marked” sets itself apart by offering everlasting hope. Sex Abuse victims bear scars only Jesus can heal.

Each book includes a beautiful story of the gospel, which brings hope. And fewer than 2 percent of people who speak Dipa’s language —Marathi— know Jesus.

This book may be the only opportunity for these victims to hear the hope Jesus gives.

How You Can Help

If you would like to help many like Dipa you can give here. Millions need the hope this book brings. The money from this Generosity campaign goes directly to producing Not Marked into Marathi, Spanish, and Mandarin. Donations cover:

  1. Translating Not Marked into 3 languages (full sized book, one Mini book version, and one Q&A Mini book)
  2. Editing
  3. Cover Designs
  4. Marketing
  5. Formatting
  6. Book Printing
  7. Shipping to these countries

Marked Hearts Costs

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Other Ways You Can Help

We understand some cannot contribute financially, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help.

  1. Share the campaign using Generosity’s sharing tools.
  2. Like our Facebook page.
  3. Check out our blog posts about sexual abuse.
  4. Ask God to use these books to change lives.

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Author’s Note: I originally wrote this post for my day job. But I couldn’t wait to share it on my personal blog. I want to thank you for helping make a difference for these marked hearts around the globe.

So You Want to Be a Writer?

Photo by John O'Nolan via Creative Commons

Photo by John O’Nolan via Creative Commons

The dreaded rewrite has always struck me as one of those dirty little secrets no one tells you about when you begin a career.

Take for instance the kids who dream of working at the zoo. They romanticize about working with animals, but nobody tells them how often they’ll need to sidestep manure (or the size of elephant dung).

Every job has an unglamorous side. Fire fighters battle fires, and celebrities contend with the paparazzi. And writers fear the rewrite.

I don’t know a writer who doesn’t cringe at the thought of reworking a chapter. If you think editors relish asking for a rewrite, think again.

No editor wants to break out that red pen a second (or tenth) time.

As a writer myself, let me go on record saying I hate rewriting. It stinks compared to the thrill of the first draft—the euphoria of plotting a story or giving birth to an idea to the page.

We all adore the beginning stage of a writing project. I like to call this “the Disney phase” because it reminds me of Disneyland—effervescent happiness tied together with iridescent rainbows.

But rewriting, on the other hand, reminds me of building Disneyland—not vacationing there. It feels like we’ve joined a sweaty construction crew and been asked to drive dozers through the dirt and hoist steel beams into place.

Not to mention working with an editor can resemble communicating a thousand details over walkie talkies.

But if we embrace the editing process, we’ll see a theme park slowly rise out of the dust. Like building a park full of rollercoasters, rewriting requires time, patience, and work.

Photo by Ritesh Nayak via Creative Commons

Photo by Ritesh Nayak via Creative Commons

Rewriting distinguishes the good writers from the great writers.

I’ve never met a manuscript that didn’t need tweaking. Even Pulitzer Prize winners need editors.

But what do we do when rewriting means starting from scratch? When (not if) this happens, take five minutes for a little trash-can basketball. Then restart.

So stop fearing the rewrite—instead, embrace it.   Tell yourself the truth—it needs the strength and clarity that come through rewriting.

Don’t quit when your editor mouths the fearful word, rewrite. Instead get to work. Drag in some better verbs. Take the wrecking ball to awkward sentence structure. Level flailing chapters and build a stronger story.

 

**Author’s Note: This post first appeared on Authenticity Book House’s blog. Read the blog, here.

What Tom And Jerry Teaches us About Preaching the Gospel

Tom and Jerry

The Tom and Jerry cartoons always bored me. Why would anyone want to watch Tom chase Jerry for more than one episode?

Despite, Tom’s near catches, Jerry almost always outwits Tom. The same story told over and over again gets old.

Or does it? I never grasped Tom and Jerry’s power to hypnotize until my two-year old dragged me onto the sofa with him to watch. That day I understood why the cat-and-mouse franchise just celebrated its 75th birthday.

Right there on the sofa Tom and Jerry taught me three principles we as Christians need to embrace as we preach “Christ and him crucified,” (1 Cor. 1:23).

  • Children don’t watch the show to hear a new story. They watch see the old story told in a new and interesting way.

Tom and Jerry’s producers know how to reinvent the classic cartoon without losing its essence. Through updated music and modern animation, its creators keep the story relevant.

Churches must do the same. Creativity doesn’t change our message—it only enhances it. We need to tell the Christ story in a different way.

Books chock full of religious jargon, or “Christian-ese,” fill libraries. We need to find fresh words and replace stale analogies. When we talk to our friends about Christ, we need metaphors that relate to culture.

  • My kids watch to see the simple story unfold into new layers.

They find comfort in knowing how the basic story doesn’t change.

And isn’t this true of the gospel? We could live for 500 years and never plumb its depths or appreciate its beauty.

The gospel’s never-ending work in us keeps peeling callouses from our hearts and challenging us to new levels of love and grace.

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  • The story itself matters.

No one tunes in to see if Tom will actually catch Jerry (although he does a few times). Creators William Hanna and Joseph Barbera understood this.

Likewise, Christians need to stand on the conviction the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus matter. But for an example of an old story told afresh, we can look no further than the Cartoon Network.

That day on the sofa I saw Tom dance the flamenco across the screen, in step with a castanet-clad kitty.

My five-year old’s eyes widened, probably anticipating the banana Jerry flings onto the platform.

I don’t remember the rest of the episode. I was too busy watching my son’s belly jiggle in laughter while I savored their wild guffaws, their eyes transfixed on the TV.

**Author Note: This story first appeared on Authenticity Book House’s website.