(If the images do not come through on the newsletter, please go to my website www.amygivler.com to view them.) Stigma, anyone? I remember when I was diagnosed with cancer (Hodgkin’s lymphoma) in 1993 that I felt a tad of reluctance to tell people about it. It’s not that I could have kept it a complete secret, by any means, because I was diagnosed at the hospital where both my husband and I worked – and news travels fast there. Besides, I was eager to tell friends so they could support me and, ideally, pray for healing. But sharing it with ...

My brother John Middendorf died suddenly on June 21, 2024. It has been three months, which seems unreal to me. Hasn’t it been an eternity? Then again, it feels like yesterday—or that it never happened at all. How could someone so alive now be dead? Losing him has felt like a ripping out of something central in my core. Until he was gone, I didn’t realize how intrinsic he was to my sense of self. I grew up as the middle child of five. There were three years between my first and second sister, and a gap of seven years ...

[One of the defining moments of my brother John’s life was nearly dying on a multi-day climb of Half Dome, in Yosemite Valley. I wrote his story (from his perspective) and it was published in Guideposts Magazine in May, 2000. I greatly appreciate Guideposts giving me permission to make it available to my readers. John died on June 21, 2024, and I miss him every day.] Stranded on Half Dome by John “Deuce” Middendorf (as told to Amy Givler) “I loved pushing myself to the edge. Was I pushing God away too?” I’d always thought you had to be a little cocky to be ...

Lord willing, our generation will never go through another pandemic. Lord willing, those living with Long Covid will be restored to full health. Lord willing, we will all heal from the emotional trauma of these past four years.  How I do pray that the Lord is willing!  Hearing “Lord willing” makes me think of Madge Huff, who helped raise our three children, and whom we called “Miss Madge.” She died in January of 2020 at age 90. Soon afterwards, the pandemic hit, with all of its misery. I remember often pausing, in those early months, to thank God that Miss ...

Opioids come from the opium poppy.

And church needs you, too. Pandemics are isolating. Four years ago, so much was unknown about COVID-19, but one thing was certain: It spread from person to person. Hence the need to keep people separate. This meant avoiding group gatherings, which was painful, because we are social creatures. For Christians, the gathering we missed the most was church. I know none of us want to go back to those early months, even for a minute. For medical practitioners in particular, the confusion of the unknown was compounded by the sorrow of knowing so many people were sickening and dying. I ...