HANDLE WITH CARE “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” Psalm 150:6 Living with ALS has changed the way I think about something most people rarely think about: Breathing. There was a time when I never celebrated taking a breath. I just breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. But life has taught me that some of God's greatest blessings become invisible because they happen every day. We often don't recognize the value of something until it becomes difficult to do, difficult to keep, or possible to lose. That's why I've learned to put a spiritual HANDLE WITH CARE label on the things God has entrusted to me. My life. My family. My relationships. My faith. My time. My opportunities. And yes, every breath. Sometimes we handle our blessings too casually. We kick around opportunities, neglect relationships, waste time, mistreat our bodies, and postpone telling people we love them because we assume tomorrow comes with a warranty. It doesn't. Something being available today doesn't guarantee it will be available tomorrow. I've discovered that gratitude grows when entitlement dies. When you realize something isn't promised, you stop treating it like it's ordinary. I don't want to wait until something is disappearing before I recognize that it was a gift. Maybe today you woke up worried about what you don't have. Pause. Take inventory of what you do have. You have another sunrise. Another opportunity. Another chance to forgive. Another chance to love somebody. Another chance to make a difference. Another chance to praise God. And if you're breathing while reading this, don't overlook the miracle happening right underneath your nose. Life can change quickly, so handle your blessings with care. Protect what matters. Appreciate what remains. Love people while they're here. Use your time wisely. And thank God for things you once considered ordinary. I've learned that every breath isn't merely something that keeps me alive. Every breath is another opportunity to live. And as long as God gives me another one, I'm going to make it count. Kerry Goode

THE GAME MUST GO ON I’ve learned something about life: storms don’t always mean the game is over. Sometimes you pray for God to stop the rain, calm the wind, remove the pain, or change the circumstances. And sometimes He does. But sometimes God says, “I’m not removing the storm. I’m going to show you how to keep standing in it.” I know something about storms. There are moments when life hits so hard that you wonder how much more you can take. There are days when the forecast doesn’t look good, the clouds won’t move, and you realize there are some things you simply cannot control. But I can control whether I surrender my faith. So I’ve decided: The game must go on. Not because I’m pretending everything is okay. Not because I’m fearless. And certainly not because I understand God’s plan. I keep going because I believe my life still has purpose while I have breath in my body. Maybe you’re facing your own fourth quarter. Maybe sickness has entered your life. Maybe grief has broken your heart. Maybe your finances, family, or future look like they’re being battered by hurricane-force winds. Please hear me: You are still here. And if you’re still here, God can still use you. I’m learning that faith isn’t always shouting after the victory. Sometimes faith is standing in the rain before you know the final score and saying, “God, I still trust You.” So today, I’m going to keep showing up. I’m going to love harder. Laugh louder. Forgive quicker. Give more. And thank God for every moment I still have. The storm may change my plans, but it doesn’t get to steal my purpose. One day my game will end. Until then? I’m still on the field. And by the grace of God, the game must go on.