In the Christian world, a lot of lingo gets tossed around.

One of which is the word testimony.

People will often ask, “What’s your testimony?”

Basically, a testimony is a faith story. Usually, it’s in reference to a person’s personal relationship with the Jesus man. 

Mine is pretty simple. I tell a more detailed story on my Faith Journey page. 

I grew up going to church on Sunday. I went to religion class on Wednesday.

But I didn’t get it, ya know? I had a religion, not a relationship. 

Not until my freshman year of college.

I realized Christianity isn’t about religion. It’s not about being good. It’s not about a set of rules.

It’s about having a living, breathing relationship with a living, breathing God.

It’s about trusting in Him completely.

And discovering that surrendering brings crazy freedom. I mean, off the hook, transformative freedom.

Let’s Talk: What’s your testimony? 

Join me over at Ashley’s blog. I’m guest posting about suffering and the question we should ask when it comes our way.

Most of us get cleaned up for church on Sunday.

We shower. Put on deodorant. Pretty clothes and makeup. 

We want to look nice. Presentable. 

Which is good. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look our best when we enter our local sanctuaries.

But sometimes I wonder….

Does our Sunday finest mentality affect the way we approach God?

Sometimes, I fall into the trap of thinking that when it comes to Jesus, I have to come clean. As if getting rid of the sin will make me more worthy to stand in His presence.

Only that’s completely backwards.

We don’t have to get clean to go to God. We go to God to get clean. 

He washes away the dirt. He makes us new.

Not more self-control. Not a stronger will. Not a greater determination to “be good”.

Those aren’t the things that make us worthy to stand in His presence.

The cross and the man who endured it is.

Let’s Talk: Do you ever feel like you have to make things right before you can approach God?

If you’d like to win a free copy of my debut novel, Wildflowers from Winter (released yesterday), click on over to these lovely blogs:

• Jennifer Hale asks me about my favorite scene in Wildflowers and what skill/talent I wish I had.
• Sherri Johnson asks me about my greatest fear and my most embarrassing moment.  
• Megan DiMaria asks me what compliment from a reader has meant the most and why.

Life is full of seasons.

Some are warm and exciting and filled with joy. A time when everything feels like a carefree, bare-footed summer.

Some, though, are cold and barren and lifeless. A time everything feels like a gray-skied winter. 

You ready for something cool about nature?

The snowiest winters produce the most wildflowers in the springtime. 

God reveals truth through nature all the time.

And this is truth.

He can use those winter seasons in our lives to bring about beauty.

This is one of the themes in my debut novel, Wildflowers from Winter, which hits shelves on Tuesday, May 8th.

This is the common theme in the real-life stories people are sharing today. Every single one involves a winter season. Every single one ends with hope. And hope is an incredibly beautiful thing. 

What if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
are what it takes to know You’re near?
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?

-Laura Story from “Blessings” 

The Wildflowers from Winter Blog Tour 

Amber Mauldin: according to her friends, she is passionate, courageous and committed

• Wildflowers from Winter: From Victim to Warrior

Camille Eide: inspirational writer, church secretary, bass guitarist, passably devoted fan of classic rock, muscle cars and Jane Austen

• Wildflowers from Winter: She confesses. She would’ve liked to be called somebody’s “Princess.” 

Cara Putman: author, homeschool mom, university lecturer and attorney:

• Wildflowers from Winter: Hope after Miscarriage, Letting God Use Our Pain (plus a giveaway of my debut)

Lindsay Harrel: writer, editor, and joy-filled Jesus follower

• Wildflowers from Winter: When she was 19 years old, her mom died after a long battle with cancer. Thankfully, that’s not where the story ends. 

Michelle Delp: avid reader, gardener, and nurse

• Wildflowers from Winter: The Grass is Always Greener, Life Lessons from the Dog (plus a giveaway of my debut) 

Wendy Paine Miller: deep thinker, conversation starter, laughs from gut

• Wildflowers from Winter: God in Daffodils, Hope after Repeated Loss (plus a giveaway of my debut)

Who’s heard of Google Alert?

It’s this handy-dandy little thing on Google where you can enter in certain words or phrases. Anytime those words or phrases make their way into the world wide web, you receive a notification via email.

I have two Google Alerts.

One for my name. Another for the title of my debut novel.

I’m not sure if this makes me smart or idiotic. Because the reviews that people write show up in my inbox. Every single time I open one, I find myself flexing my stomach, holding my breath…

Thankfully, they have been super encouraging so far. Some have flat out blown me away.

Last week, though, I read a review from a reader who wasn’t happy with me for making a religious leader in my book a “bad guy”. 

It’s a valid concern.

One I wrestled with while writing the story.

I don’t want to perpetuate the “fire and brimstone” stereotype. Not when there are so many God-honoring, grace-filled, Spirit-led, Bible-teaching, humble-hearted pastors and preachers out there. My church is overflowing with them. 

But here’s the thing.

We live in a broken world. As much as this truth pains me, there are people out there who have been burned by churches and their leaders. There are people out there who were judged instead of welcomed. People who needed to hear the truth spoken in love, but instead heard words of condemnation. Words that hurt instead of healed. 

Despite my hesitancy, despite knowing that some people might be offended by Pastor Fenton, I felt it was a topic worth exploring. Spiritual abuse exists in the church. As much as I wish it didn’t.

After reading the review, I spun into a tornado of worry.

My stomach got all knotted and heavy. 

I found myself dwelling in the land of What If…

What if my story offends more people? What if a whole slew of readers aren’t happy with me? What if I put things in my book that others disapprove of? 

In the midst of this mini tornado, I went outside and plunked myself onto our porch swing and let myself soak in God’s presence. 

It didn’t take long to realize…

I was focusing on the wrong things. I was focused on affirmation and approval. A common trap for a people-pleaser like myself.

Instead, I needed to step back. Refocus on what is true. 

And here it is.

God isn’t going to use my story to touch every heart, but He will use it to touch some. My words will not bless every reader, but they will bless a portion.

This should be my focus.

That God, in all His greatness and glory, would use little old me and this little old story to draw hearts closer to Him. To bring hope, maybe even healing. Not to everyone. But to some.

Let’s Talk: Are you being faithful and thankful for the “some” God has given you during this stage in your life? Who is He wanting you to bless? 

Since my book is coming out very soon, I’ll be making a lot of guest appearances on various blogs. Yesterday, I answered some fun question over at Dawn Alexander’s blog. Today, I’m chatting with Christy Janes and Lindsey Harrel and guest posting at Keli Gwyn’s blog. Would love to see you over there!

Don’t forget about the Wildflowers from Winter blog hop this Friday. If you’re participating, please send me the link as soon as you have it.  

My debut buddies all debuted yesterday! Beth Vogt’s book, Wish You Were Here. Dani Pettrey’s, Submerged. And Olivia Newport’s, The Pursuit of Lucy Banning. All great reads! We’re having a joint launch party of epic proportions on May 15th. Hope you’ll join us!

I can’t believe we’ve reached the last of our real-life Wildflowers from Winter guest posts. I hope the stories of these women have uplifted and encouraged you.

This last guest post is from Teri Metts and is every bit as beautiful as the others. I trust God will use her words to set many hearts free today.

A Ministry is Born

Can someone who walks in close fellowship with God battle debilitating insecurities? Is it possible to say, “I trust God,” and yet still suffer with depression? Not only is it possible, I know from experience depression and debilitating insecurities plague many who genuinely love the Lord.

Although my Christian mother raised me in church, our home life was unpredictable. My alcoholic father’s drinking and chronic unfaithfulness often drove my mother to bouts of depression and emotional outbursts. As a result she depended upon me for emotional support long before I was mature enough to handle her needs. It wasn’t uncommon for her to fly into a rage and then not speak to me for days as punishment for something often beyond my control, which ultimately produced within me a deep-rooted fear of rejection.

By the time I reached my teens, I’d begun experiencing panic attacks fueled by waves of insecurity in my closest relationships. In an attempt to protect myself from the rejection I feared might come, I spent years shutting down emotionally. I hid behind a mask of false security and self-confidence, allowing others only so far into my world. In my mid-thirties, I learned burying one’s emotions eventually results in a volcanic-type eruption called depression. For a season I battled this demon in silence, still fearful of experiencing rejection should others discover my weakness. Always at the back of my mind were these troubling questions: How could a respected minister’s wife, missionary, and Bible study teacher admit she struggled with depression and overwhelming waves of insecurity? Wouldn’t that be a poor reflection on the love I had for God and the faith I claimed to place in Him?

By the spring of 1999 I could no longer hide the depth of my emotional unhealthiness, and my worst nightmare became a reality. Dreading the questions, or worse yet, the silent accusations, I wanted to go into hiding. I was convinced no one would ever again seek me out as a friend, teacher or spiritual mentor. They would label me a fraud. I felt as if my total sense of value and self-worth had been jerked out for underneath me. But God knew my exposure would ultimately be the catalyst He would use to set me free.

Once I was at the bottom of the pit, God reached down and picked me up. That summer (’99) He began a restoration process in my life as I facilitated a support group for women who also needed to face the demons their pasts had created. After the first group finished, two more began, with a waiting list for future groups. I was blown away. Admitting to my own battles had not pushed others away; instead, my admission became a magnet drawing them to me and giving them the courage to share with others their own struggles.

The following spring I started a ministry for women called Hem Touchers. Over the course of that year, God led me to write two Bible studies – Touching Jesus & Embracing Christ – to use with ministry participants (women who, like me, needed to trust Him to heal their hurts). Twelve years later these studies are still being used by God to help others find healing from past and present life hurts.

I’m offering a set of these Bible studies to one person commenting on today’s post. If you would like to be entered in the drawing, be sure and leave your e-mail address.

This hymn was one of Teri’s favorites as God lifted her from her depression.

Let’s Talk: Have you ever been afraid to share real parts of yourself for fear of how others will respond? Do you know Teri? Say hi. Introduce yourself. She’s an inspiring woman! 

Do you have a story you can share? Don’t miss out on the Wildflowers from Winter blog hop on May 4th! I cannot wait to read your testimonies. 

Don’t forget to send me the link (katie@katieganshert.com) so I can include it in my blog post next Friday. All who participate will be entered to win a $50 gift card to Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Christianbook.com (winner’s choice).

Please help spread the word. How cool would it be to flood the internet with stories of hope and healing?

Katie asked me to come back and talk about redemption.

After talking about my past and this whole idea of shame, I have no idea if she’s thinking third time’s a charm, or three strikes I’m out.

Regardless, three is my favorite number. So here I am.

Redemption. Not really sure what I think about that word. Crickets, really. So I decided to look it up. Here’s what I found, plus my commentary.

Redemption:

1. An act of redeeming or the state of being redeemed (How’s that for helpful?)
2. Deliverance, rescue
3. Deliverance from sin; salvation (Pastor Fenton? Is that you?)
4. Atonement for guilt (Now I have to look up atonement.)
5. Repurchase, as of something sold

Number three brings up too many unpleasant memories.

I have adverse reactions whenever I hear the word atonement. So number four is out.

I don’t think Katie had number five in mind when she brought up redemption and number one is not at all helpful. There should be a law that prohibits dictionaries from using the actual word in the definition.

So I guess I’m left with number two.

Deliverance. Rescue.

I’m not sure how I feel about either of those words.

It’s not like anyone rescued me from Peaks. I had to do that on my own. I’m the one who earned the grades that got me the scholarship. And I’m the one who landed the job in Chicago.

But still….

If I’m being totally honest. Sometimes, when I’m feeling tired or worn out or unsure, the idea of being rescued is an appealing one.

It reminds me of a recurring dream I had as a kid, when we moved away from the farm and into that trailer park. For an entire year I dreamt about a prince as handsome as my dad. He would ride into the park on his white stallion and rescue me from all that had happened. He would bring me back to Grandpa Dan’s farm. And he would make everything better.

But that was just a silly little girl dream.

I learned a long time ago that princes don’t exist.

I asked Bailey what she thought about the whole redemption thing. I don’t agree with everything she says, but in case you’re interested in reading, you can click here.

Let’s Talk: What’s your favorite definition of redemption? Did you ever dream about being rescued when you were little?

Interested in reading Bethany’s story? You can preorder Wildflowers from Winter on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Christianbook.com

Check out Katie’s Facebook Author Page or Dani Pettrey’s Facebook Author Page for a word of encouragement regarding redemption.

Come back tomorrow for the Where Lilacs Still Bloom blog hop and a chance to win fun prizes!

I became acquainted with Shannon Milholland after posting on Suite T, the blog for Southern Writers Magazine. She is an amazing woman with an amazing testimony. I trust God will use it to encourage many hearts today.  

God Speaks Through Our Pain

I stared at the ceiling through eyelids thickened by depression. I would get out of bed but only for the sake of my two little girls. The smell of the beach clung to everything but I most assuredly was not on vacation. If anything I needed to take a vacation from this new life I was starting as a single mom.

I navigated the streets of a city where I knew not a soul to my new job. The only conversation I’d had that morning was with my kids. God and I were no longer on speaking terms. I blamed Him for the current state of my life.

The silence was deafening.

Just before it was time to leave for the day, a coworker stopped by my office. He wanted to check on my pencils and make sure they were adequate. He wasn’t just interested in my pencils, if you know what I mean. Daily visits followed as he checked on the whole entourage of my office supplies. Never had I known someone more diligent in their position.

In no time I heard the office gossip. He too was going through a divorce. Somehow God allowed me to peer behind his happy façade and see the pain within his heart. During one of these ordinary visits, I heard the whisper of God in my heart to share Him with this stranger.

This was a ludicrous idea! What would I tell him? That a God with whom I wasn’t currently speaking wanted to have a relationship with Him. Absurd!

But His voice was unmistakable.

Deep within I knew God was with me. He hadn’t shut off our communications. He still cared and I did have a well of hope – a hope I could share with a desperately lonely man.

I summoned courage I didn’t know I had and offered, “Look, I’m not trying to pry into your personal life but I want you to know I’m going through the same thing you are. Even though these are the hardest darkest days of my entire life, I still have hope. If you’re interested in having hope in your life, I’d like to tell you where you can get some.”

My offer hung in the air like an unwanted visitor.

I didn’t know it at the time, but he had been sitting alone in a vast empty house night after night fingering his weapons and considering his options. He had no way out. One lonely night he stumbled across the Bible his grandparents had given him as a little boy. He cracked the pristine spine to no place in particular and cried out to God for help. God sent the most unlikely of help. God sent me.

Six months offer he accepted my offer of hope, he accepted Jesus’ offer of forgiveness. Six months after that he offered me a diamond ring.

When I had the least, God offered me the most.

When I loved Him the worst, He gave me His best.

When I stopped talking, He shouted His love in a whisper.

Scott asked me to marry him and my two little girls to be his daughters. Within three years of marriage, we were blessed with two more girls. Out of our greatest pain, God grew a marriage, a family, a home abundant in love.

God spoke through me so eventually He could speak to me. He speaks through our pain.

Shannon is the author of Jesus & My Orange Juice, a fresh-squeezed oasis for ordinary living. She finds joy among piles of laundry and miles of carpools and delights in leading others to this place of contentment in life. She recently wrote the free 30 day prayer guide PrePrayed: Preparing for Life’s Events. She is also the Social Media Director for Southern Writers Magazine where she shares her arsenal of secrets about how to be successful in the sometimes intimidating world of social media.

As a speaker, Shannon is straight forward about her own struggles. She is a compassionate advocate fighting for victory in the life of her audience with a message of hope and encouragement.

When not writing she enjoys her favorite job of wife to Scott and mom to four daughters from preschool to high school. 

Let’s Talk: Do you know Shannon? Say hi. Introduce yourself. And tell us about a time God spoke to you. 

Do you have a story you can share? Don’t miss out on the Wildflowers from Winter blog hop on May 4th! Click on the link for details.

I’m over at Shannon’s blog today, talking about the importance of a listening posture.

Another Wednesday and I’m back. It seems the universe has a good sense of irony.

Anyway, Katie’s busy with rewrites and since it was kind of cathartic to have my say last week, and since I’d prefer to get to know the people who will be reading my story, I figured I’d give it another whirl.

Back in the beginning, when Katie was trying to get to know me, she asked me this question.

Are you ashamed of your past?

I just sort of stared at her.

First, because she was really starting to remind me of Dr. Nowels, sans the toupee. And in case you don’t know Dr. Nowels, let me assure you, the comparison is not meant to be flattering.

Second, because I thought the answer was obvious.

My past isn’t exactly something to be proud of.

I grew up in a trailer park with a mother who had to work third shifts at an aluminum plant. We drove a rusted out Pinto with a faulty muffler and I had to wear my brother’s hand-me-downs. I did one stupid thing when I was twelve and had to spend the next year in therapy. The next ten with a stigma that refused to go away.

Is it any wonder I left?

Nobody likes feeling shame. It’s not an endearing emotion.

When I explained all this to Katie, she raised her eyebrows and sucked on the end of her pen. Like whatever I’d said nudged an invisible puzzle piece into place.

I didn’t rise to the bait. I didn’t ask what she was thinking.

Because it doesn’t matter. I’m an architect, a really good architect. With a masters degree from Texas A&M. With a new car and closet full of nice clothes.

I’m well respected. I’m independent. And that stigma I had growing up? Nobody sees it here. I know how to hide it. In fact, I can almost pretend it never existed.

Even though we’re not BFFs or anything, Bailey and I understand each other. Because her past isn’t all roses and sunshine either. She’s well acquainted with shame. In fact, she’s talking about it here. 

Let’s Talk: Do you ever struggle with shame? How do you deal with it?

Interested in reading mystory? You can preorder Wildflowers from Winter on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Christianbook.com

Check out Katie’s Facebook Author Page or Dani Pettrey’s Facebook Author Page for a word of encouragement regarding shame. 

Two people are reviewing Wildflowers from Winter today. One from Heather Sunseri (she asks a powerful question and hosts a giveaway) and another from Casey Herringshaw. 

It is with great pleasure that I introduce you to a dear friend today. Kristin Reickard and I go the same church, and even attend the same small group. She and her husband were instrumental in our decision to adopt.

God has already used their testimony in big ways. I trust He will continue to do so here today.

A Family is Made 

We know firsthand the sorrow, the deep pain of mourning. We also know what it is to have God turn our mourning into the oil of gladness, to be given a crown of beauty instead of ashes.

In 2004, our second child Kael Xavier was born. Our little son seemed perfect. Although he was a bit fussy, we were reassured that was normal for babies of C-sections and were allowed to bring him home. At home, though, Kael’s fussiness grew, as did his jaundice.  We decided to take him into the doctor a bit early. 

At worst, we guessed Kael would need to be under bilirubin lights. We never could’ve imagined the words that would come out of the doctor’s mouth… “Your son’s bilirubin levels are incredibly high, which indicates his liver may be failing.” Going forward in shock and utter disbelief, we found ourselves with our 11 day old son in the NICU of a Children’s Hospital.

We had many ups and downs in the hospital, days we weren’t sure he would pull through, surgeries with very high risks. After 51 days on this earth, our brave little Kael could no longer put forth any more fight. My husband and I were privileged to be able to be there for our son’s birth, and also to hold him in his death.

Our grief was fresh, hard, and real. After Kael’s autopsy, we found out the disease that caused his liver to fail was 80% likely to occur in any future biological children. This disease was almost always fatal unless an experimental treatment was used. After a year of deep grieving, we decided to go forward and try to get pregnant again. After only a few weeks of pregnancy, our third child died. 

The pain was beyond words. The grieving took a toll on all of us, and my husband declared we were done having children. It was too hard to open ourselves up to that hurt again. Although we could’ve tried pregnancy again as well as some other options, my heart immediately was drawn to adoption. NO ONE could ever replace Kael or the unborn child we lost, but I didn’t want to lose a future with other children to love on too.

Over time, the desire to adopt grew inside of me. It became so strong that I prayed for God to either change my heart or change my husband’s. And God answered that prayer…  He changed my husband’s heart.

On our journey to beauty, we realized that so many children in the world were dying or growing up without a family, no one to guide them, protect them, or love them. They had ashes too. A fire was ignited in our hearts for the fatherless and we began our journey. We adopted our son Jaevan Jee from South Korea in 2008. And the beauty was palpable, overwhelming, and amazing. Then we adopted our daughter Aria Jiang from China in 2011. And now we are in the process of adopting 2 children from Haiti. 

Each member of our family has a story of ashes, different pieces of pain and suffering because of this broken world. And God took all of our ashes and made something BEAUTIFUL out of them. 

…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.  Isaiah 61:2b-3a

Let’s Talk: Have any questions about adoption? Kristin is the gal to ask! Say hi. Introduce yourself. And if you get a chance, hop on over to Kristin’s blog to read about their journey. 

Do you have a story you can share? Don’t miss out on the Wildflowers from Winter blog hop on May 4th! Click on the link for details.

The lovely and gracious Rel is interviewing me on her blog, Relz Reviewz, today. Stop on over for a chance to win a copy of my book! 

It’s an honor to have Shelly Brown as a guest today. God has definitely brought wildflowers from her winter. She says her deepest desire is to be used by God to impact the lives of women. 

I’m trusting her story will do that today.

He Makes All Things New

Can you recall the saddest day of your life? I can. It was one month before my sixth birthday.

It was the day I heard the words,  “Kids, your mom’s gone.” 

As a result of a tragic car accident, my mom had spent the last year of her life confined to bed, with only an occasional escape in her wheel chair. My dad was driving that night. He had been drinking. The accident left her with a broken back, many internal injuries and she was paralyzed from the waist down. She wasn’t supposed to die. She would simply live out her life as an invalid. She unexpectedly succumbed to a blood infection.

The second saddest day of my life was my mom’s funeral. She was buried on her 32^nd birthday. I lingered at her casket through the entire viewing. Gently caressing her arm, quietly crying, asking her to wake up. I couldn’t grasp the finality of death. I remember hoping that she was just asleep and would come back to me.

As the service began my father picked me up and carried me to the front row where he sat me on his knee. My eyes stay fixed on my mom for the entire service. When the service ended, everyone got up to leave, including my dad. But before he left, he leaned over and kissed my brother and me on the cheeks and told us good-bye.

We never saw him again … alone and abandoned … on the same day.

For the next year of our lives, we were at the mercy of temporary homes and foster care. We were neglected, rejected and abused in unimaginable ways by every one who was charged with our care.

Finally, a couple who couldn’t have children of their own adopted my brother and me. They chose us out of a catalogue full of children. There were many to choose from, but they were drawn back to my brother and me on more than one occasion. Perhaps it was our toothless smiles that endeared us to them. They read the narrative of our stories and knew we had been separated from our three sisters. They wanted to keep my brother and I together.

So we were chosen. We had our forever parents. A fairytale come true!

Or so we thought.

Our new dad was amazing. But, within the first few weeks our adopted mom unleashed her anger and hostilities on us. 

Horribly abused. Rejected by the very mom who chose us.

After five long years my adopted father got permission to rescue us from our mom. We made a clean break from our home state of Pennsylvania to move with him to Orlando, Florida.

Though I learned to cope with my past, my soul wounds ran deep.

But over the next thirty years, God would divinely place women of faith in my life, each with great purpose. Some to show me unconditional love. Others to teach me how deeply loved I am by God. One to teach me how to depend fully on Him. Another to show me what it’s like to walk in the fullness of Christ’s power. And yet another who would lead me to embrace my inheritance as a daughter of the King.

From the age of five, the enemy sought out to destroy me. But, like Joseph of the Old Testament, what the enemy meant for evil in my life, God meant for good. And not only good, He has allowed me to be a part of a miraculous redemptive story. A story filled with His healing and power. God does not waste our sorrows. Today, I share God’s story of my life, a blueprint of healing, knowing that nothing is too broken for Him to make new. 

Shelly Brown has spent the last decade sharing the hope and healing she has found in Jesus Christ with women of all ages. A life filled with hurt, abandonment, rejection and pain left Shelly emotionally damaged and longing for love. It was only through the redemptive power of God’s incredible love that she found restoration and wholeness. Shelly uses humor and poignant details as she shares her life experiences along with solid biblical truths, revealing the hope and healing that only God can give. Her deepest desire is to be used by God to impact the lives of women by not just having their hearts stirred, but forever changed.

Let’s Talk: Do you know Shelly? Introduce yourself. Say hi. And check out her ministry, Forever Changed. 

Do you have a story you can share? Don’t miss out on the Wildflowers from Winter blog hop on May 4th! Click on the link for details.

Join me over at Casey Herringshaw’s blog today! I’m vlogging about friendship and she’s giving away a copy of my book.