Tag Archives: Christianity

Excerpt from “Angels With Attitude”

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For #LineByLineTime : Lines to be proud of.

The angel smiled wryly. “All mortals want to live forever. But what do they spend their lives doing? Worrying about the future, regretting the past, wasting the present. They find so many other things to concentrate on instead of the important ones.”

David couldn’t resist. “Important ones? Like what? What does an angel – a grim reaper, even – know about what’s important to a human?”

“Hah! If you had my job, kid, you’d know. Life looks a whole lot different on this side. All the people I’ve escorted, listening to all their regrets, and complaints, and begging to be allowed to come back to do all the things they put off all their lives, yeesh! Makes me want to molt my wing feathers.”

“We don’t just escort people to the Pearly Gates and drop them off, you know. We have to take them to the Seat of Judgement, and listen to the Creator pointing out everything they neglected during their time on earth. Always makes me glad I’m not mortal.”

He eyed David. “The number one regret and omission? Love. So many people worry about making a living, feeling like they’ve accomplished something, sometimes just surviving. But those things don’t matter. Careers will end. Finances, education, earthly pleasures, they all end. It’s not bad to want to do well, but spending all your time on them is wasting it. Five minutes, fifty years, a hundred even; the length of life doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t tell you how long you have, David. Only the Creator knows, and He doesn’t tell anybody else. All I can tell you is make the most of what you have – every minute, every hour, and every day. Living a century won’t make a difference is you regret wasting it at the end.”

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

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For #LineByLineTime: Mean lines

Harper snorted. “The only thing my parents ever did to help me was paying Luthor to be my bodyguard. Not having to watch for bullies gave me more time to do computer stuff.”

Luthor jerked upright from where he had leaned against the window. “You knew? How?  They told me not talking about it was a condition of the job.”

His small seatmate shrugged. “Like I said, I think half the time they forget I’m there. They talked about it over the dinner table the night they hired you. I didn’t know you then, but I kept my eyes open for a really big kid named Luthor, and you showed up the next day at school wanting to be my friend. I’ve been enjoying the lack of hassling ever since.”

Nita leaned over toward Luthor, her eyebrows raised. “So, the friend bit was an act all this time? You don’t really like Chico, here?” She wiggled her shoulders as if eagerly anticipating a fireworks display.

Luthor just curled his lip at her. “Didn’t Mrs. Williams say no trying to start something? As it happens I do like Harper. You, I can live without ever seeing again.”

“Oooh! I just want to die! He doesn’t like me!” Nita flung herself back in her seat with a dramatic fake sob and put her forearm across her face. 

The seat hissed with the sudden pressure, or perhaps it was Minji expressing her disgust. “Must you be so dramatic? Why do you not take drama class if you insist on overacting?”

Nita dropped her arm to her lap while she rolled her eyes. “If I want to be a drama queen, what’s it to you? I think it makes life more interesting!  Otherwise, I’d be screaming with boredom right now.”

Excerpt from WIP Project Burning Bush

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For #LineByLineTime : Difficult Scenes

“They get to make choices, but we don’t?” Nita snarled. “We just get to be pawns in whatever weird little game you’re playing, huh?”

“This is no little game.”

The hair on the teens’ arms stood up and they stiffened as they felt power flow around them again.

“This is no game at all. This world balances on a tipping point. Rising Sun and Adoracion are battling to push it into chaos and darkness, where evil is a way of life and the innocent suffer endlessly. You are hardly pawns. Only you four have the talents, skills, and most importantly, the determination to win so that peace and order can prevail. The future of this world lies in your hands. The choices you have made before now brought you here. The choices you have made since are proof you are the best chance this world has to survive.”

There was silence as the teens digested this. Their faces showed their doubts, disbelief, and in Nita’s, anger still.

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

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A Work in Progress

For #LineByLineTime – Killer Chapter Endings

“We should compare notes on training. That’s some impressive wetwork on your part.”
“What a professional phrase. You, too, are an expert in black ops?”
“You sound pretty professional yourself, Dragonlady.”
Luthor stared at all of them. “What are you talking about? What’s wetwork? And black ops? Doesn’t that mean something bad?”
“I think we should have a long conversation soon,” Harper murmured. He looked around them. “But not right now. And not here.”

Excerpt: Project Burning Bush

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(A Work in Progress)

For #LineByLineTime: The Good Guys Win

Everybody swung around as one old woman cried out.  People screamed, pots were dropped, and everybody ran, except the pregnant girl, still sitting by the fire, and the old man, who gripped his staff in shaking hands and stepped in front of the teens. 

Four horsemen stared back at them.  One pointed toward the deer carcass as he chattered excitedly in Spanish to his companions. They nodded, their mouths open and their eyes wide as they looked at the four teenagers.

Nita didn’t take her eyes off them as her hands slid to her knives still hidden in her jeans. “Apparently they’re upset we caught a deer.  Sounds like we did a big no-no.  They also think we look way too much like their bosses.  I’d assume that means they’re the bad guys.”

“Not to mention the way the locals ran off screaming.  Wonder if these are some of the guys who were here before?”  Harper scratched his chin. “Maybe we should go hide somewhere, too?”

Minji stood straight, then marched, shoulders back, to stand beside the old man.  “I will not leave Dark Moon Rising and Singing Water to them. They are brave, but helpless.”

“Maybe I can scare them,” Luthor growled, and flexed his arms, waving the bloody knife in his hand.

Harper shuffled backward.  “I’ll just stand behind the tree, shall I? I wouldn’t want any of you to trip over me…” He trailed off as he reached the tree and darted around to crouch behind it.

“All of you shut up and let me talk to them and stay out of my way.  I just killed a deer and four rabbits.  These guys are no challenge.” Nita’s hands were in her pockets now.

Minji sniffed. “There is a large difference between hunting animals for food and killing a human,” she began.

Suddenly all four horsemen drew sabers and charged, screaming and waving their weapons.  Before the others could move to escape or defend themselves, there was a knife in the throat of the foremost. He toppled sideways off his confused horse, who stopped charging and turned in circles, dragging its rider. 

Another knife appeared in the middle of the second rider’s torso.  He dropped his saber and clutched at the knife, his mouth open and his eyes wide.  His horse also stopped charging to step nervously side to side as the rider swayed and fell back across the horse’s rump before the horse’s movements made him slide to the ground, his feet slipping out of the stirrups.

Before Nita could aim at the other two riders, Minji snatched the staff from the old man and screamed at the one coming at them. She swung her staff at the man’s sword arm.  There was a loud crack and the blade dropped to the ground beside her.  Her attacker yelled and clutched his arm as it flopped loosely, the bones in it moving in different directions halfway between the elbow and wrist. Minji spun on one foot as the horse and rider moved past her.

Her momentum slid the staff through her hands until she held the end of it. She swung it like a bat at the back of the man’s head.  There was a sound like a melon dropping on pavement, and the rider flipped forward, falling past the horse’s shoulder.  The horse shied, kicking at the fallen rider as his body landed at the horse’s feet. 

The fourth rider spun his horse and started to race away out of the clearing. Before he made it to the trees, the old woman their host had called Burning Wind ran out in front of them. She waved a blanket and shouted as the horse almost reached her. The horse squealed and reared.  Its rider fought to bring him back down, sawing at the reins and shouting. But the horse reared up again as the old lady snapped the blanket at its nose and screamed.  

Unbalanced, the rider yanked at the reins again trying to pull himself up, and the horse rolled backward and landed on the rider.  The rider’s legs spasmed, then went limp.  The horse rolled back and forth a few times before he got his feet under him and stood up, leaving the man on the ground.  The man did not move.

Foreshadowing: An excerpt from Project Burning Bush (a work in progress)

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TWO WEEKS POST-EVENT

“Now for anybody who’s been sealed up in a cave or a locked room in a government lab for the past week, let me bring you up to date. First, I’m situated just outside of Enchanted Rock State Park in sunny South Texas, west of Austin and north of San Antonio. There was a big – 6.0 on the scale – earthquake here last week. Folks said Enchanted Rock, which is a big old hunk of pink – yes, I said pink – granite sticking up out of the ground, vibrated like a tuning fork.”

“So, first off, what caught everybody’s attention was the fact that even though two big ol’ cities were right nearby, they didn’t catch any of it. Totally unnatural!  Scientists headed here, and so did first responders as soon as all the 9-1-1 calls started about people getting injured because they got shook off the mountain when the quake hit. Then word about missing folk started coming in. Some busload of school kids on a field trip couldn’t find everybody that got off there.”

He peered at the screen. “Hey, is that somebody rooting around in the brush wearing a hazmat suit? Let’s see if I can give you a closer look!”  He directed the drone higher and closer to the activity. He decided to continue the monologue. “Other folk disappeared for a little bit, then showed up all changed. Changed as in clothes – some looked like they just walked out of the wild West frontier, and changed as in insisting they were somebody else and acting real confused about what was going on. As if they were time travelers!”

He zoomed the camera on the drone to get a close-up of the people on the ground.  “Looky here, those are hazmat suits. What are they waving around down there? There’s a metal detector for sure, there, and I do believe that’s a bomb-sniffing dog.  Poor thing, I hope they’re giving it plenty of water and rest. South Texas in the spring is a hot summer elsewhere!” 

His eyes gleamed. “See these guys here? They belong to one of those agencies that don’t go by the alphabet. FBI, CIA, DHS, them and all those other agencies – and the military – they’re insisting they don’t have anything to do with these guys. These shady fellows showed up soon as the stories started hitting the Internet from the witnesses. Kicked out the locals, then the Texas Rangers when those lawmen showed up to find out why the locals were pushed out, and then the FBI when the Rangers complained. Somebody pulled some serious strings, folks. They got rid of the press, the law, then set up a perimeter – which I’m outside of, thank you. Then the witnesses started disappearing. Especially the folks who came back different. Those school kids? They got to go home, but the teachers didn’t. My sources tell me the parents of those kids they can’t find have disappeared, too.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “Looks like they noticed my drone, folks. Just look how excited they are! I do believe they’re trying to hide some equipment there – what do you figure that is, for sampling air and water, maybe? Dirt, too, of course. Definitely something shady going on! Oops, looks like one of them got some orders to shoot me down!” He worked the controls, but the man with the rifle had good aim, and the video from the drone went blank after it sank to the earth.

EULOGY FOR A GOOD MAN

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My uncle Bruce Perry died June 1, 2019. It was a relief for him and everybody who loved him, because his body decided to quit before his mind and spirit were ready, and left him in great pain until his soul was finally released. Nevertheless, we all will miss him for a long time.

Uncle Bruce was one of those people that so many cynics would say, “Nobody is that terrific! You’re either ignorant or hiding something!”

He wasn’t perfect. He was always the first to admit that. He had a temper, he was impatient, and he had opinions that could put people’s backs up. But he was a solid family man, loved his wife even after she died, loved and worried about his sons and their children, didn’t drink, didn’t gamble, and only smoked cigars for a while.

Although he played for some time in a country and western band in honky-tonks, it was more for the pleasure of making music with his friends than any other reason. He worked hard during the days at various jobs, supporting his family and saving his money so that he and his wife could have a worry-free retirement. They looked forward to growing old together.

Of course, it didn’t work out that way. His wife became ill and their savings were drained. After she passed away, his health got worse and he spent more time than he wanted to in the hospital. His eyes and his ears began failing, totally frustrating him because he could no longer hear his beloved music, or easily read the Bible studies that were his main interest. He had to move in with his son Barney after his son Clay who had been living with and watching over him passed away. Such are the afflictions of age.

He didn’t like the change in his circumstances and it frustrated and annoyed him that he could no longer be independent, but he understood it. What he couldn’t understand was one anxiety that he could not get rid of and spoke to me continually about: Was he really saved?

When he first brought it up in conversation, I was astonished. I didn’t know many men who embodied the Christian virtues more than him. He had not always gone to church, but never stopped his prayers and Bible study. He didn’t smoke, drink, fool around, gamble, cuss, and very rarely spoke critically of other people.

I began to think he was sort of like Job. He was never rich with 10 kids, but there wasn’t much the Devil could use to torment him. He lost his wife, oldest son, and a grandchild , but that didn’t affect his relationship with God. He lost his savings and was cheated out of a lot of money by people he trusted, but he didn’t get angry with God. He lost his health, and then his independence, but he didn’t lose his faith.

What he lost was his confidence in his salvation. All the Devil could use was the guilt of a child and he used it well. You see, when my uncle was young they had preachers who, especially during revivals, would pressure the youths to ‘come forward and be saved!’ so they could quote numbers of souls saved. Services could last a long time until somebody came forward.

During one such service he and several other ‘unsaved’ boys were getting weary of the constant exhortations of the preacher and one finally suggested they just go forward and claim to repent and get baptized just so they could finally go home and get some sleep. Exhaustion won out over their reluctance to lie in church, and they went forward as a group.

Ever since, Uncle Bruce felt guilty about his lie and wondered if it meant he had never really been saved. He worried about it constantly. He knew and believed I talked with God all the time and asked me if I could find out if he was really saved. I told him God said, “He’d better wise up and stop letting the Devil get between them.” I had to repeat that often.

I don’t think he worries about it anymore. I figure if he showed up at the Pearly Gates and hesitated to go in because he wasn’t sure he qualified, Jesus might come out and grab him by the ear to drag him inside. I imagine he’s picking and grinning with an angel band now, and getting all his questions about things he read in the Bible answered. No painful failing body to bother him, no more anxiety, no more worries, but surrounded by love. A fitting end for a good man.

Deja Vu (What, Again?)

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We survived another August.  Barely.  The aftershocks are lingering, keeping us from our rest, but at least the outside temperature has dropped 10 degrees.  Sure, it’s only dropped from 102 to 92 degrees, but you have to appreciate the small stuff or scream, right?  Right?  Excuse me, I have to press a pillow over my face for a moment…

I wrote a previous blog, The Ides of August, about the trials that strike my family during the infamous month.  This year is up for top awards in the “I’m really tired of this…” category.  My sister came down with her second round of ovarian cancer.  It’s been very painful for her, expensive, frustrating, and exhausting for her and me both.  She had surgery in May to remove the cancer they could find, then began chemotherapy.  It didn’t go well.  She has had strong reactions to the drugs.

But because August has to show up the rest of the calendar, the first of the month found her back in the hospital having major abdominal surgery AGAIN.  The rest of the month has had her in wound care and physical therapy, and me playing nurse, chauffeur, cook, housemaid, and donkey since she was ordered not to carry anything.  She still has all the usual ‘fun’ of cancer like uncooperative taste buds, neuropathy, weakness, exhaustion, and exorbitant medical bills.

Experience has caused our family to adopt a policy of never leaving members in the hospital alone.  I was staying with her but had to run home for a day to pay bills and wash clothes.  As anybody who has been there knows, you don’t get much sleep in a hospital. The hospital they put her in was almost four hours away, so I was even more exhausted by the time I got home.  I was going to spend one night at home, so I was rushing to get laundry done and paying as many bills online as possible.

Of course, I made a mistake.  It just had to be on the biggest payment – our mortgage.  I completely forgot I had just the month before set it up for automatic payments.  Yep, I paid it twice.  And I didn’t notice, until a week later when the overdraft fees and chiding alerts began arriving on my account.  I live on a fixed income and a very tight budget.  My sister’s bout with cancer left her unable to work and with no money to add to the family budget.  I immediately contacted the mortgage company and they said, hey, no problem, send us a bank statement showing both the payments and we’ll send one of the payments back.

You guessed it.  It is now September, and I just spent a very frustrating call with the company.   Frustrating first because the static on the line was so bad, I asked him to send me an email because I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.  Second, because, duh, I still don’t have my money so I am going to be short this month but they said my account shows the money was supposed to be sent to me August 25.  Then where is it???  Third, they took my September payment, but NOT ALL OF IT.  Why? They are researching. Gah.

My sister had her chemo drugs changed, and it helped, and her surgery is healing well.  But she still can’t work, she’s still in pain, and she still is pretty shaky on her feet.  Then our oven stopped working.  Then the hot water heater blew a gasket (actually, literally…).  Luckily (?) I noticed before it flooded the kitchen.  (Forty gallons of hot water? Eesh.  Welcome to the jungle…)  So no hot showers, no dishwasher use, and no baking until we get these appliances replaced.  Repair is no use, we were told.  Of course not.

We deal.  Life goes on, and we have endured worse.  I have a teakettle to heat water.  The air conditioner is working, the cold water still runs, and my sister lives.  We have a home.  We have a car.  We have food to eat.  We have family and we have friends.  My sister gets cheered by Skype calls from the newest member of the family born in May, and his grandmother, our sister.  Later this month an even newer member will arrive from our sister’s other daughter, who has triumphed with a second child after five miscarriages.

People shake their heads and ask how I can laugh about our travails.  Oh, I keep the screaming for my bedroom.  I hate watching people grab their ears.  But, mostly, it’s because God gave me a sense of humor to endure such frustration and constant tripping over life’s rocks.  What’s the point of being given a useful gift if you never get to use it?  Heh.  Careful what you ask for, trust me.  If He gives you something, you’ll usually get lots of opportunities to use it.

I noticed my year has been so chaotic I haven’t blogged for a while.  Sorry.  I need to write up a bunch during the odd moments I’m not dashing around doing and can actually sit and think so I can schedule them for publication.  I have been on Twitter meeting other writers and some admittedly odd characters, but it’s been fun.  If you’re actually interested, my Twitter handle is @ghostwriter4God.

I have finished my third book and named it Angels With Attitude.  Of course, it’s available on Amazon in print or Ebook, like Once Upon a Christmastime and Standing Next to a Miracle.

I have also contributed a story titled Sweet Talking Man to a sweet romance anthology called Cool Weather, Warm Hearts.  It will be released in Ebook form October 30 but is available for pre-order now.  The proceeds will go to two charities, The Magical Moon Foundation which helps sick children and their families and The Wounded Warrior Project which helps our Vets!  For those of you as ignorant as I had been about terminology, ‘sweet’ romances mean no sex.  I would assume it also means no vulgarities of speech or actions.  I don’t write that sort of thing, so I didn’t have to censor myself.

I hope your year is going better.

 

All Warm and Cozy

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It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’ve just finished my first cup of coffee.  I’d love to go back to sleep, but I have a plumber coming in today so I need to stay awake and get some work done before he gets here.  He was here yesterday working on several plumbing issues, and one of them waited until he was gone to suddenly spout another leak.  Now he has to come back and check his work or fix yet another problem.  He told us yesterday to get an electrician to check the wiring in our house.  When my sister got home she moaned, “This place is becoming a money pit!” A little dramatic, but accurate.

It’s Christmastime, and we still have gifts to purchase and wrap.  Several of my friends are staring at empty chairs after losing loved ones this year.  The news is full of sad stories, bad weather, foolish politics, and stupid scandals.  My arthritis is flaring, and my sleep patterns are erratic.

But you know what? I DON’T CARE.  Life is good.  I’m working part-time as a substitute teacher at a local small school, and I find it fascinating.  Frustrating, annoying, and exasperating, yes, but that happens anytime you deal with kids.  I enjoy getting to know the kids and helping them further their education.  It’s not just babysitting while the teacher is away.  My favorite moment was watching all the young ones from 3-year-olds in the Head Start Program through the 5th graders practice their Christmas program.  I know it was maddening for the teachers to try to corral them and get them to practice, but I adored watching the children just enjoy their day, running around, climbing all over the bleachers in the gym, and just being children.  Too many adults have lost the ability to live in the moment.

I had a good time last week when the local book club reviewed my first book, “Once Upon A Christmastime”.  Here is a link to the article posted about it in the local newspaper: Once Upon a Christmastime Review.  I was quite chuffed to hear them complain it was too short and they wanted a longer collection for next Christmas.  I’ve already got some story ideas lined up.  One of the club members posted a review of it on Goodreads: Kacy A Jey’s Review.  More than one of the members ran local bed and breakfasts and inns and said they were placing the book out for guests to read.

It’s always nice to hear they like the way you write, but it warmed my heart to hear it helped them get into the Christmas spirit, especially when, as one member said, she definitely wasn’t.  I smiled when they said at least two of the stories would make good Hallmark stories because my stories always seem like movies to me.  I would love to see them made into movies because I like to help lift the spirits of people.  Having people in a good mood around me makes all of life so much easier.

Especially when I still don’t have a working toilet and I have to clean house.  Merry Christmas!

Conversations With God

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I had an interesting conversation with God the other day.  No, not a prayer.  I have conversations – you know, the kind where I say something, He says something, I say something…

People often give me a funny look when I say God talks to me, as if they expect me to start waving a sign saying stuff like “Prepare to meet thy Doom!” or something.  Nah.  The folks at my small church gave me that look when I first joined them, but since I’m a cheerful sort and often have humorous conversations with God that I remark on, they’ve relaxed.

I’ve had these conversations for as long as I can remember.  My parents, bless their hearts, just nodded and said stuff like, “How interesting.”  They were used to my storytelling, which started about the same time, and they might have thought that was just another story.  But it’s not fiction to me.  To me, God’s voice is as real as my mother’s, more trustworthy than anybody I know, and I never have to ask Him to speak up, stop mumbling, or clarify whether something He said was sarcasm or a joke.

A little girl, hearing me say God told me something, asked what God sounded like.  “Ever had a friend stand behind you and say something over your shoulder?” I asked her.  “He sounds just like that.  You don’t see Him, but you can hear him clearly.  You know His voice because you hear Him all the time. That’s what He sounds like.”

Some people say God speaks to them through the Bible, others say they have visions.  That happens to me, too, but I also get the audio version, which is better for me, since I can ask questions and get immediate answers.  I don’t always LIKE the answers, and sometimes He tells me my brain doesn’t have the words to understand the answer.  Like calculus, I guess.  I still don’t get that, either.  Algebra barely got through.

The conversation I had the other day was fairly typical.  He’s never really been able to get me to learn two things: self discipline and patience.  Especially patience.  Ever heard that old joke?  “Give me patience, NOW!”  That’s me.  My sister and I were cleaning all the Christmas decorations out of the house and putting them back into storage for another year.  We got the storage bins out of the storage building outside, filled them up, opened the door to take them back to the storage, and discovered a downpour occurring.

“Come on, God, give us a break!” I complained.  “Cut the rain off for just half an hour, can’t You?  Just give us enough time to get these boxes back into the storage building and You can let it rain all the rest of the day!  What do You say?” No response, and the rain just seemed to come down harder.  A couple of minutes passed, and finally my sister and I both shrugged.  We’re not sweet enough to melt in the rain, after all.

We lugged the plastic bins out of the house and into the storage building, getting incredibly soaked in the process, and no, we didn’t melt.  But just as I shut the storage building door and locked it, the rain stopped.  Perfectly timed.  I shook my fist at the sky.  “God, that’s not funny!” I shouted.  My sister just shook her head and laughed.  But God replied quite clearly.

“No, it’s not funny,” He agreed, sounding annoyed.  “If you had shown enough faith to wait a mere ten minutes, you would have been completely dry, wouldn’t you?”

I hate it when He makes a point so true I can’t argue.

A lot of the writing I do is at His order.  For instance, I’ve never been much into angels.  I just never paid much attention to the subject, other than the mentions of them in Bible stories.  But when I started writing a Christmas story for the Sunday School teachers in my church every year (I’m the Sunday School director) I discovered there were angels in every story, and so when I published the first collection of Christmas stories “Once Upon A Christmastime” I put an angel on the cover.  “Standing Next To A Miracle”, my second collection of short stories, is about the people who were friends and family of the people in Bible stories of miracles, but my third collection, coming out shortly (I’m planning, anyway) is all about angels.  “Angels With Attitude” it will be called.

I wasn’t planning on writing anything like any of these short stories.  I was planning to be a novelist, and already had a long list of novels I was planning to write as soon as I retired and finally got the time to sit back and pound the keyboard.  But when I finally do, what comes out?  Short stories about angels and Bible characters.  Huh.  I never know what will emerge.  I’m quite often surprised.  I usually can’t remember them, so I have to go back and reread them for myself.  I only half-jokingly remarked to my church members that I was ghostwriting for God.

This past Christmas was a hard one for our church.  Our church treasurer and a dear friend to many died of illness.  At her funeral we discovered a young man who had grown up in our church had died in an accident on his way back to his parents’ home the night before.  It was during his funeral a few days later that God spoke to me.  I never know until just before Christmas what the gift story will be about.   I always just wait for inspiration to strike, find stuff to go into gift bags that goes with the story, and type like mad when it hits.  But this time I got it during the funeral, and I was appalled.

You see, there was a story I had been planning to write for the “Angels With Attitude” collection, but I hadn’t got it on my computer yet.  God told me this story would be my Christmas gift.  I didn’t want to put it in a Christmas gift.  It’s a good story (I believe) but horribly inappropriate for any member of my church at Christmastime during our grief.  I was even more appalled when I discovered a short while later that the husband of one of the Sunday School teachers had just been diagnosed with a nasty form of cancer.

The story, you see, is about an angel of death (yeah, not THE angel of death – he explains it in the story) appearing to a young cancer patient.  I argued fiercely with God.  Okay, not argued; protested is really the correct word, since argument is a two way arrangement.  God doesn’t bother to argue.  You do it His way, or face the consequences.  What happens to me is I am placed under unction.  I heard that phrase once and thought it sounded appropriate, since that’s the sound I make: “Unnnn!”  Essentially, that means since I agreed a long time ago to do what He tells me to do, He’s going to keep nagging me until I do it.  In the Bible they called it anointing.  Wonder if any of those anointed folk felt like going “Unnn!”

He got His way, of course, but I added a letter outside the story to tell the teachers not to blame me for the story.  Apparently, God thought it was necessary for SOMEBODY to read it, so there it went.  I haven’t heard from any of them yet.  Maybe I’ll put an excerpt on my website and see what everybody else thinks of it.  Buy the book to read the whole thing.  Or look up one of the teachers I gave it to.  They might let you borrow it.  But I’d rather you buy the book.  You’ll like the other stories, too.  God said so.

Update: Just heard from a relative of the young man whose funeral I attended.  She said the story helped break her from her deep well of grief and begin to live again.  Whew!  Never try to second guess God.  I’ve learned to just ask to see the results of acting on His orders once in a while.  Got to get this third book published.