The Write Stuff

>> Monday, October 31, 2011


I had the best time this weekend. And all my writing buddies are gonna be soooo jealous.

So where was I?

Out in the middle of nowhere. And I loved it.

I had the privilege of joining fellow writers Jan Ackerson and Lynn Diener for a weekend writer's getaway.

Lynn was kind of enough to offer up her family cottage on Shavehead Lake near Vandalia, Michigan. I don't even know how to describe where it is except that when I left my house, all I had to do was drive an hour west.

Of course, I'm directionally challenged so it was no surprise that I had issues during my short journey. It was going really well until my path was blocked by a construction detour that left me unsure of  whether I could reach my turnoff or not.

I conferred with a man at a gas station and ended up taking the detour...that had no signs to mark the route. After another gas station stop and consultation with a drunk guy, (don't ask) I ended up on a back road, way out in farm country where I could hear the cows mooing.

Dark was closing in and I was starting to stress. I considered stopping to ask directions (again!) but  had safety concerns about the desolate area. Of course, I could have asked the man weaving down the middle of the road, dressed in some getup with knickers and a yellow wig. He and his dog tipped a glass at me as I zoomed by, deciding I'd rather keep going than risk interacting with another intoxicated person.
Lynn and I

By this time, I was ready to drink.

But eventually I ended up back on the main road, barely on the other side of the detour. Many winding turns, retracing of routes, and phone calls later, I found my way to Lynn and Jan.

We chatted, had dinner, sprawled out all over the living room, and just had the best time. We wrote, bounced ideas, and brainstormed our little hearts out.

Saturday morning we started in again. Several pots of coffee later, we were feeling pretty buzzed up. Then Jan broke out her chocolate stash...mmm...writer heaven.

And so it went all day long. Every now and then we'd take a break. They went for a walk while I stayed behind to do a little recreational reading. (Too cold for me--yes, I'm a wus.)
Don't they look writerly?
Each of us worked on various projects, Jan mostly on her blog while Lynn concentrated on her Page Turner entry. My goal was to review my manuscript from two years ago so that I could continue it and finally complete the story for this year's NaNoWriMo competition.

I'm pleased to say that I accomplished my goal and had the best time too--who could ask for anything more?  NaNo is just a day away and I'm pretty confidant that I'm at least ready to tackle it...for the most part...
My work station on the couch

And for all you writers out there that are salivating and green with envy?  Good news! Lynn's planning on doing it again in the spring.

Stay tuned--you definitely don't want to miss out.




I Had An AWESOME Time!
(Minus the drunk guys, of course)

Read more...

Best Day Ever

>> Thursday, October 27, 2011



"Fore!!!"

As summer winds down and the leaves begin to drift to the ground, I find myself edging into seasonal grief-mode because...


I'm a golfer



Before you get too impressed, a disclaimer:

--I've only played three years so it's okay that I'm not very good.

--Have no idea what my handicap is (or even what it means.)

--My swing is probably atrocious according to serious linksters.

--In order to compensate for my ball sailing right, I stand cockeyed to the left.

--Double-digits happen.

--I often lob my tee shot all of five feet...and then take a second.

--I buy Noodles (my favorite ball) in bulk.


But none of this matters because I'm totally in love with the game. From the minute I stepped on a course for the first time and my nephew said, "OK, hold here, link your fingers like this, pull back, and HIT," I was completely hooked.

I think it's a combination of beautiful surroundings that I don't have to maintain, soft breezes, and communing with nature. And I have a little bit of a competitive streak too, but usually only with myself. I tend to get frustrated when I don't play well...which of course, just makes me play worse.

 A few weeks ago, my sister and I decided to take advantage of one of the final mild days of the season. We hit our favorite course on a sunny Monday afternoon and marveled at the fact that for the most part, we had the place to ourselves.

Golfing in the fall brings about it's own special challenges: leaves and long grass. While the scenery was even more breathtaking than usual, we spent an inordinate amount of time looking for balls. But no complaints:  We had a marvelous time


We both played pretty well and even sprang for a second nine holes since it was just too gorgeous to stop.

At one point, we had a spectator. He was crossing a fairway and seemed rather perturbed that that we dare disturb his trek.

I inched in for a close-up with my cell phone while ignoring the wild look in his eyes. Probably not the smartest thing I've ever done but I did get cool pix.

Eventually he decided his photo op was over and hustled on his away (as much as a two foot turtle can.)

 

All too soon, we finished, savoring the memories in an effort to make them last till next spring. 

Woo-Hoo for the best day ever...


At Least Till Next Year!

Read more...

Woo Hoo!

>> Tuesday, October 25, 2011

NationalNovelWritingMonth

"W" is for...
WOO-HOO!  
November's Comin'

This year I’m going to (once again) attempt the National Novel Writing Month challenge (better known as NaNoWriMo). The idea is to write a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. No one reads your words and there are no prizes involved, yet I can't think of anything I'd rather do.

I’ve been asked why I would want to type my fingers into a coma for 30 days and have nothing to show for it except a ream of paper and a chintzy certificate to hang on the wall. The answer?

For the thrill of writing. And to prove I could do it.

One of the coolest things about NaNoWriMo (besides the name) is that the key to finishing is to NOT edit while writing—the only thing that matters is output. It’s like an amusement park for writers: No tweaking or endless revisions--just type, type, type. Then type some more. Nothing but total, creative abandon. Building up without tearing down. 

What a “novel” idea!

While writing is not allowed until November 1, most folks prepare an outline, create their characters, plot the plot, etc. The first year I participated (2009) I didn’t even decide to do it until the day before. But I had had an idea kicking around for quite some time. Figured it was a golden opportunity.

The amazing thing is that it really wasn’t all that hard. I snapped into competitive mode and forged ahead. It was an awesome learning experience. Since I hadn’t done any pre-planning, I kind of felt around in the dark a lot, but that was all part of the fun. I created character sheets, chapter forms, and basically nudged my way through the story as I went along.

I also got a feel for what it would be like to write on a regular basis, day in and day out. Especially found out the importance of taking regular breaks. It’s hard to stop when you’re on a roll, but in the interest of stiff fingers, circulation, and bladder health, it is extremely important.

NaNo is a sacrifice of time, meals, and sleep. It’s a huge commitment and takes just about every waking moment. I would work all day, shove down food, and head for the keyboard. The animals went hungry more than once, laundry piled, and there were a few bottles of Motrin lying about. My family soon learned that phone calls risked receiving an abrupt, “Not now—I’m about to kill someone off.”

But it was worth it.

Over two billion words were written in 2009 and 50,012 of them were mine. The end result was my first official WIP (Writer-ese for ‘Work in Progress’) and Photo Finish was born.

In 2010, I actually started outlining and sketching a plot ahead of time. Pre-planning took a lot of the pressure off as I already had an idea of where the story was going. While the process was easier and I finished November with another “Winner” declaration, the manuscript didn’t really fire me up that much. Again, I learned a ton and was glad that I made the effort, but my heart kept returning to the year before.

The story niggled at my brain, especially since I had not completed the story. I had an idea of how it might end, but after November 30, 2009, I had never looked at it again. The hard copy sat on a shelf in a notebook, lost and forgotten. I could practically hear the characters floundering through cyberspace. They demanded I finish their their and were quite indignant that I had abandoned them.

I decided to begin the arduous process of re-writing Photo Finish and it's been another learning experience. I slogged away, made some progress, and have had it edited in order to enter the first three chapters in the FaithWriters “Page Turner”contest.

In the meanwhile, November began to invade my brain. I knew I shouldn't consider a new project. Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good manuscript just dying to be finished?

So back to Photo Finish I go.

This year I hope to complete the manuscript. I’m excited to get started and my fingers are twitching in anticipation. Of course, I’ve had a bunch of things suddenly come up in November, but that will be part of the challenge.

Here's the synopsis of Photo Finish to wet your appetite--hope you enjoy it. Maybe someday you’ll have an opportunity to attend my book signing and you can say, “I knew her when…”

 Photo Finish

Frankie Taylor has issues.

And a plan.

But things go awry, and he finds himself locked into a chain of events that will forever change his life.

As opposed to ending it.

Frankie is a down-and-out man who has decided to commit suicide. Never one to do things halfway, he comes up with a spectacular way to end it all. And finally gain the notoriety that has always eluded him. But on the way to “do the deed,” he observes a family on the train that reminds him of his own.

He muses about his own children, Melissa and Frank Jr. And the fact that a relationship with them has been almost nonexistent since the divorce. He always knew he was a lousy father. But knowing and fixing were two different things. It became easier to stay away entirely. And it hurt less.

As the family on the train goes their way, he is overcome with yearning for his kids, and wonders how they will deal with his demise. Yet it doesn’t divert him from his plan.

Until he finds the digital camera left behind by the family.

Frankie arrives at his destination, but gets distracted by the camera. His grand scheme unravels and loses the window of opportunity. As well as his nerve. Doubts set in and he begins to wonder if ‘someone’ is trying to tell him something.

Could God actually be trying to stop him from committing suicide?

But God hadn’t shown any interest in him in all the years since he had walked away from his faith. Why would he start now?

Frankie doesn’t have any definitive answers; yet as God begins to gently guide him back into life, hope returns. He seeks help for his problems, adjusts to sobriety, and attempts to patch things up with his kids…who are dealing with their own issues.

Frankie also feels obligated to find the family of the lost camera. After all, if it hadn’t been for it, things would have ended entirely different. It becomes imperative that he return the camera to its rightful owner and leads him on a journey he won’t soon forget.

Meanwhile, we meet the Alexander family: Evan & Emily and their teens, Cara and Jamie. They are the typical all-American family…at least to casual observance.

But trouble is brewing in the Alexander home, especially with rebellious fifteen-year-old Cara. Things spiral downward quickly, and soon they are plunged into life and death crisis.

And right in the middle of it all, Frankie shows up.

A bizarre chain of events brings them all together so they can learn about love, family, forgiveness, and most of all, the Great Healer.

God never lets go as we run the race called “life”. He shows us that even when we get tired and want to give up, he is right there beside us.

We win even when it doesn’t feel like it.

But sometimes it’s a Photo Finish.


Read more...

And the Winner Is....

>> Saturday, October 22, 2011


I thoroughly enjoyed getting in on Lisa Mikitarian's blog tour. 


"Her Safari" is awesome--A must-read! (Click to order.)

In the mean while, it's time for the drawing for a $5 Starbucks card from those that commented. 

 

I decided to get creative and allow one of my critters to pick the winner. Pippin was pretty excited at the prospect (can't you tell?)


But I finally convinced him to help me out. We got everything ready to go, had a few test runs, and then...



Getting ready...
He went to work.
"Hmmm.....decisions, decisions..."



It was a tense few minutes as he carefully made his way amongst the choices but at last he gave me his final answer...





And the Winner is.....Marita Thelander!
*Woo Hoo, Ye Haw, Etc. Etc.*
"Hope she takes me with her!"







Thanks to everyone who participated--You're the best!

Read more...

"V" is for Vorlaut

>> Tuesday, October 18, 2011

A2Z4U&Me--The Letter "V



 *Honk, Honk*

The bus just arrived in Michigan!

I'm hosting this week's stop on the blog tour of "Her Safari" by my pal, Lisa Mikitarian. Lattes are a brewin'...let the fun begin!

BONUS:  Leave a comment and be entered into 
a drawing for a $5 Starbucks card.
WOO-HOO!!!

Lisa and I met at a FaithWriters conference. She wore a mischievous grin that was infectious, and even though we didn't get a chance to talk much, I suspected we could be friends, despite the fact that we lived nowhere near each other.

That's why there's social networking, right?

Over the last couple of years, we've gotten to know each a little, and I've found that my first impression was spot-on: she's a quick-witted, sassy gal and quite...vorlaut (German for flippant.)

I also suspect she is my long-lost soul sista. We banter back and forth and enjoy virtual giggle-fests. She affectionately autographed my copy of her book: "To My Glib Buddy..." Gotta love her!

Lisa's an amazing writer and I'm proud of her determination to push through the challenges involved with getting published.





Order your copy of "Her Safari" and proceeds will go to Heart of God International Ministries. Just click on the HGIM button when you check out. 


A taste of 
"Her Safari - Snapshots Along the Way"

It's interesting how our lives are made up of a plethora of seasons, snapshots, and sequences. Reflecting our personal experiences and sharing them with others strengthens our connections—our bonds of humanity. Her Safari is one such exchange of experiences, showcasing women of varying ages, races, and backgrounds. 

When you explore the pages, you may find something of yourself written inside. You may be struggling with a mother-in-law who is finagling her way into your house through chocolate. You may have a sister who lives to “one up” you. You could be the wife who argues with her husband over Christmas d├ęcor. Perhaps you’re the single girl who tries to make eyes at her doctor while under the influence of Percocet.
      
Wherever these women are on the journey, and however successful they are in navigating the conflict in their lives, it becomes clear that although they are flawed and broken, they are all genuinely striving to do their best—just like most of us.


(Check out "Her Safari" video)





  
Says Lisa...
I've never been comfortable talking about myself.  Then the other day someone asked me about my name--my full name:

Lisa Renee Sorbo Walsh Felsch Heidenstecker Mikitarian.

Lisa and Dorian Gray
How's that for offbeat? So here's my personal bio--via the names:

Lisa:  First name given to me by Mom.  It was in a book she'd been reading.

Sorbo:  My last name--listed on my birth certificate.  But I can't say I know who my father is.  Perhaps one day.  After I was born  (in California), Mom took me to live with Oma Heidenstecker in Germany.  I refer to these as, "The Stable Years."  Thank God for Grandmothers:).

Walsh:  Last name of my stepfather--Mom married him when I was five.  That's when Oma brought me back to the States.  Those were the grade-school and not-so-stable years.

Felsch:  The last name of the family who graciously became my guardians when life got too complicated at home.  Those were the Junior High and High School years.  Those were kind of rickety years, too.

Heidenstecker:  At 18, I legally changed my name to my Grandmother's, though I hadn't seen her in a decade.  I joined the Army, attended the Defense Language Institute where I re-learned German. I was  stationed in Germany for two tours where I reunited with Oma--yay!  Slightly wild and joyful years. Learned to dance in the discoteca.

Mikitarian:  The last name of the  man I have loved (and danced with)  for 24 years:  Sam Mikitarian Jr.  A blessing before I knew what a blessing was. Three children: Madeline, Spencer, and Katalina.  A dog:  Dorian Gray.

Now here's where the middle name fits in. It means born new.  And that's exactly what happened to me when I (along with Sam and Maddie and Spencer and Katalina) accepted the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ.  It's here (about 18 years ago), that I began understanding that God created us in community for a reason--to love and help one another while on this earthly journey. I've felt strongly about this aspect of life ever since.

Well, there it is. Me in a Nut-shell.
Lisa the racing babe and Sam

Thanks for stopping by!

Don't forget to leave a comment
to be entered into the Starbucks drawing


Find out more about Lisa and Her Safari

Read more...

"Let's Go Home"

>> Friday, October 14, 2011

Jan (on the right) with Lisa Mikitarian
One of my writing buddies is a gal that I met through FaithWriters. Her name is Jan Ackerson and she lives just a few hours west of me. In the last three years, she has played numerous roles in my quest to become a writer:

*road trip co-pilot     *brain-pickee       *lunch date
*mentor/encourager/kick-in-the-pantser
*tutor                        
*future editor

Yup, she is one all-around important gal.

Jan also has a really cool writing blog called  "One Hundred Words." The whole theory is that there is power in just a few well-chosen words. She posts character studies, observations, and slice of life stories that are one hundred words--exactly. Since writers are a wordy bunch, this is a real challenge. And she does an awesome job at it. (Be sure to check out her blog and see for yourself.)

Not too long ago, Jan held a contest. She invited  writers to pick one of her stories and expound on it up to 1,000 words. You could either use the story itself or just the characters. The prize? A $50 Amazon gift card.

I'm a Kindle owner so you can bet I was yelling, "Woo-hoo, I'm in!"  I started re-reading all her delectable 100-word morsels and finally found just the right one to work with.

And I didn't win.  *wah*

But it was fun and a great exercise because being limited to 1,000 words is kind of hard. (Can't imagine trying the 100 thing...) Thought I'd share my entry in hopes of making you smile.

And if you're so inclined, feel free to send me an Amazon gift card...my Kindle would be eternally grateful.

(The italicized is Jan's original story.)
                                        "Let's Go Home"
The woman pushing a stroller was half a block ahead of Kris. She was probably in her sixties—a proud grandma. Every few feet, the woman would peer into the stroller, murmuring something Kris couldn’t hear.

Kris’ steps were quicker than the grandmother’s, so she heard what she said while parking the stroller in front of the library:

“You’ll be fine here, sweetie. I’ll just be a few minutes.” The woman disappeared inside.

Oh, surely not, thought Kris. You wouldn’t leave the baby… she hurried to the stroller, angry.

There sat a contented fat calico, wearing a white lace bonnet.

Kris stepped back, stunned, and hoped no one had seen her faux pas. She whooshed a relieved sigh after peering down the empty street and returned her gaze to the stroller. The cat blinked, appearing quite indignant that the intruder dared disturb his nap as the clip-clop of hurried steps announced the return of the woman.

“Oh dear, Mr. Patty-Cakes. Have you been naughty again?” The woman fussed over the stroller, rearranging a pink crochet blanket. Eventually she straightened up as Kris gawked. “Did he try to escape? He does that sometimes. But for the most part, he’s a good boy. And oh, how he loves our walks. Don’t you, Mr. Patty-Cakes?” She slipped a bag out of her pocket and popped a Kitty Kookie into the cat’s eager mouth.

Kris’ jaw dropped as the lady tossed another treat in the air and neatly snagged it in a move that would make Orville Redenbacher proud. Not knowing whether she should applaud or be nauseous, she swallowed and croaked, “Why no, Ma’am. He didn’t try to escape. In fact he didn’t move a bit.” She felt proud of the cat—and wondered why she would champion for the chubby feline. “It’s amazing that he stays in there.”

The lady harrumphed. “Well, it certainly took a while to ‘convince’ him of it. And occasionally he forgets. Come along then—we must be on our way. You may walk with us.”

Dumbfounded, Kris trailed behind and wondered where they were going. The lady chattered on about nothing and everything, pausing only long enough to inquire of Kris’ name. She halted her march in front of a brick building with a sign that read, “Shady Oaks Retirement Home.”

“Is this where you live, Ma’am?” Kris had passed by the pleasant structure with well-manicured lawns a hundred times.

“Yes. We’ve lived here for several years. It’s nice enough, if you like that sort of thing. But since Homer left us, we just never got around to moving. My darling Patty misses our old house, but they feed us well.” Kris smirked, as it was apparent that the rotund cat had not missed many meals.

“Well, dear, it has been so nice to meet you but I must get Mr. Patty-Cakes his dinner now. Why don’t you come visit us sometime? We’re in room 238 and I’m sure my little dumpling would be just delighted to see you again.”

Before she knew it, Kris had committed to a visit the following weekend.  She turned to leave then hesitated. “Uh, Ma’am. What’s your name?”

“Oh, of course—silly me. It’s Ginger. Ginger Marley. Nice to meet you, dear. See you soon.” With a wave, she fluttered off, cooing to Mr. Patty-Cakes as she maneuvered the stroller inside, leaving Kris staring.

And trying to figure out what the heck had just happened.

Kris quickly became a regular visitor at Shady Oaks. She and Ginger (and of course, Mr. Patty-Cakes) became fast friends. They strolled the grounds, played Backgammon, and often chatted in the common room over afternoon tea.

On a leaf-scattered autumn day a few months later, she hurried into the lobby and saluted the receptionist. She hustled toward room 238, anxious to see Ginger’s thrilled reaction over the chamomile tea she had found. And Mr. Patty would jiggle a happy dance when he spied the bag of Kitty Kookies.

A quick rap on the door brought no response and as Kris pushed open the door, all she found was Mr. Patty-Cakes perched on the easy chair. She turned as the receptionist skidded to a halt in the doorway, panting. “Oh, Kris, I tried to stop you…”

“So where’s Ginger? Did she go out? She knew I was coming today.” Mr. Patty-Cakes yawned and jumped down to weave around her legs. She absently picked him up, stroking color-splotched fur.

The receptionist hesitated and took a deep breath. “No one knew how to get a hold of you. Ginger, well… she passed away this morning. We were hoping you would come today...I’m so sorry…”

Stunned, Kris sank into the chair. Tears slid down her cheeks and plopped on Mr. Patty-Cakes. Undisturbed, he burrowed into Kris’ lap and with a purr, kneaded in pre-nap preparation.

“Has anyone called her family? What about Homer? I don’t care if they’re divorced. Someone should let him know.”

The receptionist shook her head. “There is no one. They never had kids. And what made you think she and Homer were divorced? They lived right here together. He passed away shortly after they moved in, but she stayed on. Always said that if it was good enough for Homer, it was good enough for Mr. Patty-Cakes.”

They hadn’t talked much about Homer. Kris had just assumed that when Ginger said he’d “left” them, she meant they were divorced. Her stomach started to roll as understanding hit like the twenty-four hour flu. “You mean I was the only one she had?” Tears striped down the cat’s tummy as he dozed, oblivious.
Patches: My version of "Mr. Patty-Cakes"

She abruptly hugged the tubby calico, startling him awake. He squirmed, but soon calmed as she settled him in the stroller, tying the white lace bonnet under his chin. Tucking the pink crochet blanket around him, she headed for the door.

“Come on, Mr. Patty-Cakes. Let’s go home.”

Read more...

"U" is for...Unforgettable

>> Tuesday, October 11, 2011


"You're My Person"
If you've ever watched the show "Grey's Anatomy," you're probably familiar with two of the main characters, Meredith and Cristina. They are best friends who are always by each other's side.

"You're my person." That's how they refer to one another.

Yup, we've had some adventures!
We all have family and friends, but every now and then, you find that special pal who's in for the long haul. Doesn't matter how often you see them or how many days pass between phone calls: You always know you can count on them to be there for you...and you for them.

They are your person.

When I started to think about a "U" post for this week's meme, the word "unforgettable" kept jumping out at me. And my best friend, Sandi.

And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

We made it to 4500 feet...

The years flipped through my mind like a PowerPoint slide show. We've had a lot of fun and grand adventure. I've held her during crisis and she's done the same for me. We've cheered each other's successes, and cried during failures. There isn't much we haven't been through together.

Including an unforgettable event.

This is an article I did for a FaithWriters Weekly Challenge two years ago. It didn't win anything, but it was one of those "must be written" entries that came straight from the heart.


                                          White Swan Hope
In sixteenth century Europe, there was an assumption that all swans were white. It was a safe theory since no other variety had ever been seen. However, in 1697, all that changed when a Dutch explorer discovered the first black swan in Australia. People had to alter their perspective on the birds and soon the phrase “Black Swan Event” was used to describe the unpredicted, highly improbable, and unforeseen. Describing life-changing experiences with a major impact, the “Black Swan Event” became a symbol of the impossible…

***

I never saw it coming. The phone call kept echoing though my mind, playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat. Except I couldn't press the off button and make it stop.

An acquaintance had called to tell me that my best friend, Sandi, was seriously ill. Details were vague, but apparently it started with complications due to bronchitis. No other information was available. No contact information. Nothing.

Bewildered, I lay in the dark, staring. My gaze momentarily fell on the graceful goldfish that wandered across the screen of my laptop, but I paid it no attention. I was too busy wishing I was several hours away. For all the good it would do me. Even if I drove frantically to her town, I had no idea which hospital or where to begin in my quest to find her. Someone, somewhere, was working to save her life and I was helpless to do anything.

Slipping to the floor, I cried out,“Oh God, please help.” Grief flooded over me like a runaway train, roaring at breakneck speed as I curled into the fetal position. “We need you, Lord,” I whispered into the silence.

Sandi and I had met several years earlier when we ended up cleaning toilets together in an orphanage while on a mission trip. We became fast friends after discovering we were from the same state and lived only a few hours apart.  What started in the dusty sands of Mexico had forged into a solid, lifelong friendship. Even though we didn’t see each other often, it was one of those special relationships that endured the test of time. We’d been through a lot together: she was “my person.”

The fact that I had even found out she was sick was the result of a bizarre chain of events that started with a call from California. Sandi’s church had emailed all over the world in an effort to get as many prayers going as possible. A man that received the email relayed the information to Minnesota, location of the home office for the organization that had sponsored us in Mexico. A woman from there called a local mutual friend, who passed the news on to me.

Unfortunately, no details were known--other than an urgent call to prayer. No one could tell me where she was and I didn’t know any of her family members. I was at a loss.  
 
My reckless emotional side wanted to jump in the car and just start driving. Fortunately, my rational self prevailed and I began to clear the fog from my brain. Options ran through my head and were quickly dismissed as either impractical or impossible.

In a moment of clarity, I sheepishly turned to the Lord (where I should have started in the first place). “Father, I need your guidance. Please show me what to do, which way to turn. I beg of you to spare Sandi. Heal her even now with Your mighty power.  And give me direction.”

Immediately, His calming presence came over me. The goldfish flittered by...and the answer came.  Getting on the Internet, I got the number of every hospital in the area where Sandi lived. Several interminable phone calls later, I was actually connected to her mother in the ICU waiting area.

The news was not good: Sandi was in critical condition, on a ventilator, and not expected to live. She had gone septic as a result of the bronchitis and infection was proving to be too much for her weakened condition. 

There wasn’t time for me to get there and I resigned myself to sitting at home, waiting, and praying…


Author’s Note:
This story is based on an actual “Black Swan Event” involving my best friend. The end result? After 21 days on a respirator, and many setbacks, including a stroke, Sandi made a full recovery.  She has a few residual affects, but for the most part, the Lord spared her for the work she has yet to do.  

 She went on to finish college, realize her dream of becoming a teacher, and was recently married.   

Sandi has had countless opportunities to share how she turned her “Black Swan” into pure white.
Me and My Person

Read more...

  © Blogger template Simple n' Sweet by Ourblogtemplates.com *customized by Mari @ Free2Bedesigns.com *Header Photo by Tom Berger

Back to TOP