Category Archives: Anthologies

Exciting News !!!!

Hey y’all!!!  I know I’m new here (and for good reason).  My first short story is about to be published.  It has been a life long dream of mine and it’s finally happening!!!  I am very honored to be included in this awesome book with 3 veteran authors, Catrina Taylor, Y.K. Greene, and RaeAnne Hadley.  These women are very well published authors and their works are amazing (in my opinion anyways).  I’ve posted the link.  It is on pre-order right now through Amazon.  So go check it out, leave a review and tell all your friends!!!!


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Let the People Lead

In my blog, I’m just going to let the people lead this time! Here are SOME OF their short stories.


My ex-husband left me for his secretary. None of my children were hurt because I couldn’t have babies. He became a father within months of our actual divorce. The child was his girlfriend and his baby; he quickly remarried.

My ex-spouse and his second wife divorced in a more ugly way. She practically took his business dangling his son in his face. I heard this all through the grapevine, which hurt more because I still cared about him.

One morning, as I dreamed that my ex called to say I loved you, my vision included the man apologizing for harming me. He asked for forgiveness mentioning how much he regretted ruining our lives for sex. After my soul let go of the pain that man wreaked on my life, my mother abruptly woke me with her telephone call.

“Turn on the news. Turn on your TV. Quickly go to Channel 9!”

The reporter stood at the bay near Tampa telling viewers about a possibly abandoned and capsized fishing boat. The owner was reported missing by his spouse a day earlier. Evidently his sons were aboard when it encountered the storm in the harbor that day.

On another station, their newscaster mentioned a few more facts. “Only one body remained on board. The coast guard is searching for the father and other son. One of his sons was trapped the cabin of the vessel. The body of that man had been recovered and identified by his mother.”

Startled explains my reaction when the cameras revealed the mom standing with police in the port; it was my ex-mother-in-law.

“I just felt his presence in my dream. God let him apologize and mend my broken heart before he left for Heaven,” I gasped to my mother. “God is good!”

They never recovered his brother or dad’s bodies.

Later, I testified about my sleeping vision to several friends.

Barbie describes the scene

Field Trip

I escorted a bunch of teens on a field trip to the Head Start Center. While on the bus, my eyes scanned the fellow adults, which led me to my position beside an elderly woman. “You here with a grandchild?” I asked.

“No, I’m a retired teacher with nothing to do. I volunteer at this school to keep busy.” She offered more information than expected, “I have no relatives. Both my sons and husband died in a fishing accident in the Gulf of Mexico.”

Unwittingly, I asked, “Near Tampa?’

“Yes!” She looked at me more directly. “My husband and one son were…”

“Never found but the other was in the cabin drowned.” I finished her explanation to both of our amazements adding, “Barbie told me your story- I think!” My friend had an unusual name; the lady beside me sat dumbfounded as I told her about my friend’s dream on the day her ex-husband passed away.

“We were meant to meet because I always worried if Barbie healed her broken heart. My son treated that kind soul so badly. I’m glad we shared this tale because now I can let my son rest in peace! You are the answer to my silent prayer! Thanks be to God!” The woman on the bus with me looked serene in that moment. I’m glad God let me deliver the end of the testimony.

Barbie’s friend finishes this tale


At Christmas, Grandma Ellen came to her granddaughter Susie’s new house for a party. Ellen’s husband and she were invited to the other side of the family’s celebration due to her off and on illnesses and the thought that that year might be the last chance to be with the elderly relative at the holidays.

When Grandma arrived, she complained to Candice that John and his wife were not there. Her daughter-in-law, Candice didn’t want to tell her that they were in NYC because another grandmother was recently diagnosed with cancer. The younger woman simply told Ellen that John went to NYC to celebrate the holidays with his wife’s side of the family.

Ellen remarked, “I made it a point to come here because John is fun to chat with. I’ll very much miss sitting and talking with him. At many past parties, he always took the time to speak to me.”

Months later, when Ellen made it to Hospice House already in a coma, Susie was doing John’s taxes. He felt moved to tell Susie about a weird dream he had had that Monday. In his vision, John sat with Grandma Ellen talking and talking about Heaven and how she was safely, there.

That same Monday, in unrelated conversations, Ellen’s eldest son, Mark, mentioned to his stepfather, “Mom looks different, today. I feel like her spirit is gone, and her body just won’t stop.”

Neither John nor Mark knew what the others were saying or thinking. Plus, missing her at the holidays, John had no idea of Ellen’s worsening health condition.

After hearing about the dream, Susie blurted out, “Grandma is at Hospice dying.” That’s when, John asked for Mark’s phone number to tell his reassuring story. When her son listened, he believed that man encountered his mom in that weird dream because it was the same day he felt her spirit left her body.

Later, in conversations, Mark asked his spouse, Candice, why John would have this dream since he only met his mother a few times. That wife told him about his mother’s comments at Christmas- about loving conversations with that man. “Your mom wanted to talk to John; so, apparently, she did. Actually, God allowed it!” Candice added.

“Why John instead of one of the closer family members?”

“If we say we chatted with her in a vision – it is JUST A NICE DREAM. But, if a near stranger that had no idea she was near death- says he talked to her in a vision about her pending death, it is a gift and message from God! It can’t be doubted as authentic!” Candice added, “Plus, it’s a present for your mom. God gave her the last chance to visit with John instead of dying still missing her last conversation with him at that past Christmas party!” God healed their spirits.

John’s vision

Harmonizing in the Spirit

I recently wrote a friend an e-mail about my accident because he was going through hard times.

To this day, that intersection- where I faced death- makes me think about bypassing it and taking a different way home. But, I try to face it head on to get over the fear.

I don’t remember all of my car wreck but a few things come to mind. Right after the other driver plowed through my vehicle, in that intersection, my body felt queasy anytime my eyes opened.

It felt worse and worse- soon after the accident. So I shut them keeping them closed tight.

I remember parts of the ambulance, helicopter ride. All my injuries that made them call for that emergency transportation caused me extreme nausea; I continued to keep my eyes closed even while coherent. It felt better that way. However, I was awake and aware while in the air; I heard the paramedics and people on the radio repeating that I coded. At that point in time, I felt light as if my soul detached from my nausea-ridden body but there was a peace not a fear in that knowledge. It wasn’t scary just bright and kind of nice to be hovering away from my physical pain….

You’ll have to come on by HIS Story to read the rest of this story and other inspired short tales.… It’s worth the few dollars to read this full book and more such as:

Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down– a book proving there is life after death.

My ArmOR– why did the author meet an exorcist in the form of a delivery minister?

The Presence- The Presents– The gift of healing is revealed.

Through the Storms HE Performs– A brain dead expectant mom comes back from the other side with tales about Heaven

Stacey’s Song– An orphan cries out and God answers through minor miracles.

The Evans Terrace Girls– Some young girls help their neighborhood through its mourning and miracles abound.

You can find my writing through AMAZON as paperbacks and for Kindles @

as well as other e-book formats thru

Find my other blog @

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Let the Females Lead

Faith Healing is a term used most often during a Christian revival; a person stands up and out of their wheelchair amazing the crowds with their saunter. The doubters among us think that the individual was planted in the audience and never really had walking issues. It’s an idea some say they witness after a ‘man of the cloth’ blesses a dying individual; it’s a spontaneous event from a death bed. Most skeptics want proof that that human was really leaving this planet permanently. Rarely, someone defines faith healing as a ‘condition of the soul’ and its healing from the cynicism that keeps that individual from experiencing the faith and hope of miracles and God’s interventions.

When my mother passed away, I witnessed the latter event; my spirit began its healing process. My mom died but my fears and concerns in my heart and soul were – for the most part- reconciled. However, I still lacked the full trust to’ let go and let God’ in parts of my daily life. Thus, He kept sending unsolicited proof that he was still there listening to my form of prayers and petitions. I protected myself most of my life from dysfunction and delusions. Even as I witnessed His Glory through others, it took a good pounding of my heart, mind, and soul before I’d surrender to God’s Will. I’d say, “We can only be 99% sure that there is a God and Heaven!” That was my way of justifying my coping mechanism with the many tragedies in my life.

As my revival began, Wavie walked into my world. Her story is quite a loud message that God is ‘alive and well’ and cares about our daily problems. Even on the first day I met the woman, as I walked with her across the campus where we worked, I had no idea of her full and amazing story. Spontaneously, she rambled on about her Christian witness and near death experience. Bottom line, the new friend claimed to have a personal relationship with Jesus and God but not just because her tradition spoke to that idea. That lady truly believed she met and knew the Maker of Heaven and Earth as she healed from a major car accident. The very religious woman states that while dead to this world that she had glimpses of life here and life after death. Was it the drugs or her swollen brain that made this woman delusional or did GOD really communicate with her during her 14 day coma?

While unconscious, that Human Being claims that she spent time in an intimate conversation with God through several situations including but not limited to visions, dreams, and prayers. Plus, without fully exiting her comatose state, she was acutely conscious of this world and the next. Are you the least bit intrigued?

I was and helped her capture her saga for posterity and God. After her near fatal car accident that required the ‘Jaws of Life’ to free her, she met God and still talks with Him, today, as He guides her Will and messages to other souls on this Earth. Find out how she recovered, the miracles involved, and how this soul coped. She found herself wheelchair bound being told she might never walk, again. What steps did her life take after surrendering to The Almighty’s Will? You’ll have to read her full witness to find out.

Then, there is Anne. Her life was less than picture perfect when she encountered breast cancer. Winning that battle with a potentially terminal disease, she went on to suffer some chronic and old age diseases from minor strokes through congestive heart failure. At over 80, she still struggles with her body’s desire to shut down. However, during one of her revivals, the woman escaped death with the help of a Presence that healed her from an apparent bleed out. What or who was that Presence? Angels? The Holy Spirit? God -himself? You can read about her amazing faith healing in her fuller witness or book.

Have I tempted you in a good way? To be continued….

In the meantime, come on buy their books Through the Storms HE Performs and The Presence-The Presents. Maybe, God will show you how HE has been with you through all your suffering and cares or will present you with your own faith healing including the healing of your soul.

Excerpt:- “Through the Storms HE Performs”

(Did I forget to tell you Waive was pregnant at the time of her accident? That situation complicated her healing process from the onset!)

Meanwhile, the doctors felt their hands tied because they could not operate freely on her due to her unborn daughter. In the aftermath of the near fatal accident, her physicians could not simply focus on getting her well because her surgeries had to be spaced out to protect the fetus. Plus, some alternatives to highly sedated operations must be found in order to protect the life growing within her womb. One day, her doctor trusted in prayer and this patient’s good attitude as he scheduled an alternative to a full out restorative procedure on one of her limbs.

“I want to fix the gaping hole in your leg,” He bowed the same way he did in prayer while this patient laid unconsciousness days earlier. “I cannot give you more anesthesia due to your condition.”

Wavie understood the severity of her lesion while wondering what the procedure entailed. As they stared at her wounded body, the image of missing chunks of tissue greeted them unpleasantly. The leg did not contain enough tissue or outer skin to simply press and pull to stitch is closed. He tugged at her remaining skin to demonstrate just how bad the hole in her limb looked. On top of the opening, that body part already housed metal pins and drainage tubes from previous procedures. However, the stench at the sight warned of pending bacterial invasions that might claim the leg if left in its open state. She remembered this smell that greeted her nose during her twilight state; her heart knew the area needed major healing. The procedure discussed already felt overdue.

This doctor did not leave her in the dark about her situation and the pending operation for long, “I need to graft a part of your buttocks to your holey leg, tomorrow. During the procedure, I will give you a local painkiller because I cannot put you completely under.”

After exiting the coma, this pending operation was the only time that Wavie ever felt apprehensive. She worried with prayer all night. If she balked at the doctor’s idea, infection might set in. Her wound needed to heal so that her leg could remain a part of her body. After her mediation on the consequences of resisting this surgery, worry set in. What would the next day bring?

Your Father knows what you need before you ask him. (Matthew 6:8)
After realizing her full healing remained out of her control, she allowed God to whisper in her ear guiding her thoughts and prayers. As she contemplated the next day getting very little rest, she relived the man’s visits. She remembered a doctor praying with her the day he visited her comatose bedside. Suddenly, she envisioned the healing her physician asked from God. Her highly agitated soul settled into the Supernatural Being’s goal for her recovery.

The next day, when her physician arrived to prepare her for the procedure to repair the damaged tissue in that leg, he pulled her limb into view. Simultaneously, shock and amazement filled their souls and the room. The Lord recovered her tissue during the night, and there remained only a small hole where the drainage tube and metal bracing holding her broken leg resided on this once more fully mangled appendage. That day, one of many miracles met their eyes and blended into their hearts as well as this testimony. God stayed with her just as He guaranteed in His whispers throughout this whole ordeal. His promises healed her painful situation faster than the medicine or man!

While the faithful such as Wavie believe everlasting, those struggling with the reason bad things happen need to see legs heal and other mending wonders to widen their faith. Many humans need clearer signs of God’s love; that is why this and other miracles occurred in Wavie’s religious story. These types of phenomena happen to help those on the perimeter feel a part of the circle of God’s, loving arms. These events change outlooks; sometimes they help the victim. At other times, they encourage those nearby. When communicated orally or in a book, these testimonies give many new insights into God’s deep and eternal love for all mankind.

So, how far did the healing go? Would Wavie ever leave her wheelchair? COME ON BUY her book to find out

Excerpt: “The Presence-The Presents”

(In this part of the saga, Anne nearly dies!)

Even though, the time of day made it April Fool’s Day, the doctor looked her straight in her eye saying, “If we can’t stop your bleeding, you will be dead by the end of the day!” The announcement was not followed by laughter and a clever line about how this hospital visit was all just a bad joke. That would not be funny, anyway! Unbelievable thoughts raced through her mind as Anne heard, “This fever must break before you can receive a blood transfusion. Without it, there is not much hope!”

This news shook Anne to her soul. She finally heard that her bruising indicated internal bleeding that might kill her. When lunch arrived, she nibbled not feeling any urge to eat. She felt some contentment but she could not rest or sleep, either- not right away.

About three in the afternoon, two women from her church came in and gave her communion. They asked Anne to pray with them, which she did. All of the sudden, tears rolled down the patient’s cheeks. She sobbed as they continued praising. Soon, she heard Father Joe’s shuffle coming down the hallway.

The two women greeted this priest at the door informing him, “Our sister in Christ is crying but we do not know why!”

He entered the room as the two women left. Anne failed to speak due to her emotional state. Without delay, the priest started anointing this sick parishioner. As his healing hands moved over Anne’s forehead, again, with God as her witness, her body felt on fire. The tears really flowed through the prayers of this man. Without uttering a word, she remained mystified as he finished his sacramental blessing then left her hospital room.

Near the end of his blessing, she stopped crying. Anne felt a comforting “presence.” It lulled her into very sound sleep.

She failed to awaken for supper. After midnight, as the night nurse took her vitals, Anne finally spoke asking the woman, “Can you change this bedding and my gown? I am soaking wet!”

Her nurse recognized her, “I remember you from September of last year. I remember your heart’s irregularities spontaneously healed last time you visited us.” Then, she helped change this patient as well as the sheets. As she finished her tasks, the lady added, “I believe you broke that fever. I can call the lab technician to draw your blood. You may be well enough for that transfusion but the blood count will be studied before that procedure. I have a good feeling about your blood work.”

This nurse winked at Anne because this medical worker believed that her patient received blessings and presents of healing from a Supreme Source.

Anne felt very comfortable falling easily back to sleep. About four in the morning, she heard a male voice calling her out of slumber. The face of her technician became less blurry as she opened her eyes. Another familiar face; he drew her blood in September.

“Mrs. LaMonte?” He looked shocked and amazed to see her back.

“Jock, is that you?”

He asked, “How do you know my name?”

Anne answered, “When someone is as patient as you trying to find veins, your attitude remains a great memory especially when you had to use one directly connected to my heart. When you mentioned that only a few people are permitted to use that vein, how could I forget you and your gentleness?”

“So you remember me?”

“Yes, you introduced yourself by name back then. You are from Jamaica, right?” He shook his head smiling while completing his current task.

About a half hour later, the night nurse returned with a huge smile, “Just as I suspected! Your internal bleeding stopped; your blood count is back to normal. There is NO reason for a blood transfusion!”

This woman shared the secret of this healing with Anne but soon others would hear the good news- the God news.

After hearing the test results, Anne let out a sigh of relief falling back to sleep while feeling very content! Voices interrupted her rest. While making rounds with the entourage, the mentoring physician reviewed her blood results. As she remained drowsy, he listened to her heart. He announced to the interns, “This patient arrived with internal bleeding due to unmonitored Coumadin. For some unexplained reason, her bleeding stopped when her fever broke. A technician drew blood a couple of hours ago; her blood count returned to completely standard range. A scheduled blood transfusion became unnecessary.”
Pleasantly pleased, these resident interns and their mentor talked very softly among themselves while shooting strange looks Anne’s direction.

Did her spontaneous healing stump those physcians? COME ON BUY her book to find out that answer and more details.

By the way, as I slowly grew in trust of the ultimate goals God had for my life, as I co-wrote those books and many other nonfictions that witnesses of God’s presence, I encountered many other tales, which I later shared in other nonfiction books.

Stay tuned for more details!

You can find these books through AMAZON as paperbacks and for Kindles @

as well as other e-book formats thru

Find my other blog @

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Let the Orphan Lead

Stacey_cover 001 (424x640)

Stacey speaks about the realities in her childhood:
After hearing about the Texas factory tragedy, I revamped a portion from my book donating it to a charitable book; I hope my excerpt in April Rains anthology helps people find the silver lining of hope. My goal is to show people the light at the end of their dark tunnel of suffering and losses. I hope my tale is a highlight during their cloudy mourning.

I lost two sets of parents before age 10 and went to live with my aunt. She inherited me and all my anger. Thank GOD that He sent her help including through a few rose petals. When a groundskeeper at a resort delivered those flowers, my aunt had a revelation of hope to share. In the April Rains anthology, when you read my anecdote from my childhood, you’ll understand the significance those flowers held; they helped me cope with my new life and family. I took that special delivery of roses as a sign from my deceased mother that life was still worth living.

Excerpt from Stacey’s Song & the S.H.E. Anthology
By: Stacey Meyers

Flower Child

Many people came to my rescue taking me on trips to the Bahamas, Minnesota, and other ports of call. However, joy eluded me. Grief caused enormous stress on my weary soul making me incapable of enjoying life. A rest at a tropical island paradise was my aunt’s solution to our anxiety. Even though I didn’t realize it, she really needed to escape to fantasy land. Thus, her husband, my Uncle Mike, booked my new family a room at South Seas Plantation on the west coast of Florida. Actually, this was our second beach vacation since I arrived because we visited Key West during our spring break about a year before.

We left for this trip in the middle of July while the usual rain clouds blanketed the eastern and the western sky. They collided borrowing their water from every ocean, sea, and lake in the vicinity. As the day wore on, the clouds sank so heavy with vapor that precipitation occurred. In Florida, the one thing you can count on is the afternoon showers. The rain comes at you from seemingly all sides so thickly that you can’t see past your extended hand. As we drove through this storm towards our vacation destination, it raged no more than an hour. That’s another fact about torrential rain.

As lightning surrounded us and electricity filled the air, my peers worried about the thunder that roared with the fury of all ages. Thunder always followed the bolts of light. Counting from the time we viewed each flash to the time the thunder sounded, we knew about how many miles away the worst of the storm prevailed. Each count equaled about a mile.

“One, two,” Julie whispered. “It’s getting closer,” She giggled out of fright.

“Will the lightning hurt us, mommy?” Jenny questioned.

“Only if it hits the ground,” I guaranteed her.

“Actually, the rubber in the tires won’t conduct the electricity so we are safer in the car,” Daddy explained as he pulled under a bridge for more protection.

“Lightning is the angels getting strikes at their bowling alleys. They flash the lights in celebration. The thunder is the sound of the ball knocking over the pins and the pins crashing to the floor,” Our mother spoke up to calm fears.

“Why do they only bowl when it rains?” Jenny inquired.

“Someone said that it rains because the angels left the water running in their showers, and it is overflowing to Earth,” Julie continued the conversation.

“Maybe, they were so excited about bowling that they just forgot the water was running,” I added.

“Does anyone ever see their guardian angel?” Jenny was inquisitive while her mom was probably glad that her mind was on Heavenly creatures instead of the real danger.

“I suppose they do,” She responded.

“Mom, you saw Jesus when Grandma died right?” Julie reminded us of that tale.

“Well, I didn’t see Him with my eyes but I felt Him in my heart,” She reminisced. “I knew in my mind’s eye that He was present.”

“But, you told me He was all light and shinny!” Julie argued.

“Actually, there was an extremely beautiful ray of light coming off the baby-blue sky at the moment that my mother left this world to her coma. It shimmered through the open draped window. I believe the Lord arrived on that elevator of light.” My aunt’s explanation continued.

Not amused and weary of the discussion, our dad continued the car trip as though the torrential downpour ended. He figured that the worst of it was over, and he acted eager to reach the west coast of Florida for his relaxation and vacation. Eventually, we out ran the showers but the talk of Heaven did not end as quickly as the rain did.

Our journey continued as my role as the lost sheep brought anger to my soul, again. It arrived as fresh as day one. I was still too young to understand why my parent’s died before I graduated high school. They wouldn’t be there when I married. All this talk of angels caused an abyss of silence between the rest of my family and me. My soul reluctantly fled to internal conversations.

Later, as we checked in to our resort and unpacked the car, I moped around instead of being helpful. Once in our room, I marched over to the couch, clicked on the television, and planted my feet on the coffee table. Meanwhile, my two cousins, Julie and Jenny, raced to pick out beds and changed into their bathing suits. One other fact about Florida summers is that after the rainbow you always get an almost cloud free sunset. They headed out to splash in the Gulf of Mexico before the night invaded this first day of our vacation.

“Don’t you want to swim, too?” Aunt Cindy prodded me.


“Want to go look around?” Cindy held out the olive branch because she really needed me to join instead of disrupting her family. However, I enjoyed intimidating my peers. In these crowded quarters, my current behavior helped my aunt envision the worst.


“What do you want to do?” She continued.

“Leave this place and go home!” My voice bellowed belligerently. “Why did you bring me on YOUR family vacation, anyway?”

My role in this family was that of the grouch. So, Cindy simply set about unpacking food into the refrigerator then exited to the balcony. Arriving just in time, she viewed three frolicking dolphins near the water’s edge. Then, my aunt spotted her two fish dancing on the beach. Their daddy snorkeled barely aware of the dolphins or his daughters. Eventually, he returned to shore with a handful of sand dollars and a big smile. His girls gathered around. Then, Julie pointed at the gulf in the direction the dolphins vanished. With excitement, Julie gets very busy behavior. My aunt knew from a distance that this environment enchanted her daughter because Julie pranced with the wind. Meanwhile, Jenny and her daddy sat on a towel counting the minutes to sundown. As for me, I remained well rooted in self pity complaining about the lack of cable in this expensive room.

The next day, Uncle Mike and I rode a jet ski in the Gulf of Mexico. Somehow, he and I interacted well while all his wife did with me was fight. Was she really the big bad step-mother? Or, was something else going on between us? The grief counselor she forced me to see told her that I probably resented our mother’s death refusing to buy into another mother figure. Meanwhile, my dad had been mentally ill and very cruel. Thus, I was most likely glad to finally find a father figure. Who cares why I went jet skiing willingly; I tagged along enjoying a great ride.

While we were off on our adventure, the girls and Cindy journeyed to the community pool. My new family spent time here before this summer. They always enjoyed Captiva Island and its sea. Today, the only thing enjoyable centered on breaking the calm Gulf of Mexico on a wave runner built for two.

At lunch time, my family visited a restaurant where casual clothes were required and frowns were not allowed. Fans cooled the atmosphere pushing the tropical ocean breezes among us. Although the sun sweltered, this shaded eatery remained balmy. However, shaded feelings and gloom still haunted my soul. One of the waiters attempted comedy. Even I smiled when he pretended to fall and shoot fake mustard at Uncle Mike. He entertained us. However, my mirth was short lived.

Walking back to our condominium, we decided to explore some resort shops. Julie pulled out a shirt with a boat full of manatees crashing into some helpless people. Checking the price, her mom offered to purchase it because my cousin’s environmental passion included saving that species. Jenny found a cute pair of sunglasses and matching hat, which fit Cindy’s pocket book as well. Looking for a den piece, my uncle found a turtle nesting sculpture. Meanwhile, a shopping spree enticed my interest. When I arrived to the cash register laden with a volume of self indulgences, the mean step-mother made me take back everything except a T-shirt. Turning abruptly, I stomped away taking forever to return to the front of the small quaint gift store.

“It must be hard to go from a situation where grandma and grandpa over compensated her with unbridled shopping sprees to living in our family that economizes,” Cindy tried to explain my attitude to her natural children. They witnessed my almost daily outbursts. “Stacey isn’t used to sharing with two other children. She doesn’t realize if she weren’t here you might have gotten more, too. All she sees is what she didn’t get to purchase. It’s the same sixty dollars but instead of getting thirty each you all get twenty. You’ve sacrificed too because your grandparents died but she is too young to understand anyone else’s suffering.” If I waited with them in line perhaps I might have seen the incredible suffering my aunt hid. She, too, lost her parents and tried to make me a part of her family. However, I made her job close to unbearable.

My uncle became tired of my temper tantrum. “It’s my siesta time!” He proudly announced. On vacations, nap time was a necessary activity; jet skiing competed for his most favorite part of the ocean resort. His morning full of wave riding, lunch, and shopping prompted his rhetorical question, “Can you tend to the children alone? I want to catch the trolley to our room and get some Zs.”

Nodding in the affirmative, my aunt finished browsing with us. I spent the rest of this time avoiding her while we explored the town’s fare. Eventually, we ended our walking tour and caught the next trolley. As we sat on a bench at the entrance to our resort, a gardener from the complex arrived in our midst. You could hear his lawn mower over the sounds of birds singing and children’s pleasure on the nearby beach. Then, his engine halted as he lunged in our direction. In his grasp were four roses that he handed to the girls, their mom, and me.

“Thank-you,” The three of them gestured and spoke simultaneously as my nose sniffed at the rose in my hand. He rode off too quickly to hear our murmuring.

“Look! We all got different colors,” Jenny pointed out.

“Wonder how that guy knew to bring exactly four roses?” Julie wondered aloud.

“Yeah, and they are all different colors!” Aunt Cindy added.

“Where are the four rose bushes where he picked these?” Julie questioned in amazement.

We looked everywhere but could find no bushes to match our flowers. Next, Cindy took charge of the explanation, “That man must have been sent by Heaven. Only God would know to tell him to pick exactly four flowers. He would guide the gardener to us. Then, He would control just who got each color.”

Julie began her excitement prance. Jenny’s eyes widened. My eyes made contact with my aunt from behind the rose still perched at my nose. Her explanation affected all of us. Suddenly, my soul was connecting with hers. I could feel her grief and her joy combined as it surrounded me.

“Look, Stacey got the yellow rose that signifies sunshine. Surely, the message is for her to leave her gloom behind and enjoy her new family as well as this vacation. She has the right to be sunny and warm. God is telling her to be happy and enjoy her new life. It’s time to live again, Stacey. Come out of your gloom of despair!” My aunt’s voice swelled like a wave on the shore.

Why is mine pink?” Jenny inquired.

You are girly, and pink equals that!”

Why is mine red?” Julie wondered.

“It is a strong color, and you are athletic,” He mom thought aloud.

She rambled more but her speech was interrupted by the trolley bell beckoning us to board.

When we looked back from the trolley car, the lawns were mowed, the gardening staff retreated, and the rose bushes evaded our view.

“That’s it!” As if a sudden revelation hit my soul, I interrupted the trolley’s bell. “This rose was sent by God and my mother. They want me to be happy.”

Meanwhile, my aunt’s three colored rose carried the message that we could merge into one beautiful whole. She anticipated the possibility of becoming one lovely flowering rose as a real family.

Later, on that very same vacation, all the girls in our family rode tandem bikes around the island. At first, I attempted to ride with the youngest, Jenny. However, that spelled disaster, so I partnered with Julie. As we rode ahead of Jenny and my new mom, our pace glided steadier and smoother until we blended into one unit. On this vacation, I learned cooperation and sharing as I adjusted to my new family situation.

When the bereavement counselor told my Aunt Cindy that it could take three to five years for me to work through my anger and finish my mourning, she bellowed, “Good grief, that’s forever!” On this vacation, I managed one step towards recovery, and a small flower inspired me to shift from solitude to community.

The END?

My story is twenty years in the making. Today, I’m a young woman with a husband and 2 children. Until age 10, I was raised by my maternal grandparents; they literally adopted me. My aunt, Cindy, inherited me after our mom died of breast cancer; and our dad committed suicide. My struggle to readjust to life is in my book Stacey’s Song. After the Sandy Hook Massacre, my full story or book was donated to the S.H.E Anthology to help mental health agencies specializing in children’s issues like I encountered due to my PTSD. Now, I’m sharing a part of that tale with you through this new anthology.
My author link is at

The blogger’s main author page is @ WEEBLY, you can find many nonfiction uplifting books there.

AMAZON author site

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Let the Girls Lead

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In their book(s) ‘the S.H.E Anthology, ‘The Evans Terrace Girls’ give their account of what happened when 7 or more parents died within a year or 2 of each other in a small subdivision of about 110 homes. People started saying their land was CURSED. The children heard those rumors about their subdivision and were scared to death. Then, when a neighbor lost her dad to a blood clot after surgery, the kids felt the need to help. When one of the girls heard the rumor that the mourning family ran out of milk, she setup a traditional solution or proverbial lemonade stand. That day, other angels or young children arrived; many of those neighbor kids ran door to door selling half glasses of hot lemonade. They raised enough quarters to buy milk and other perishables. More importantly, they formed a group that became a club and led their neighborhood out of grief. A CHAPTER excerpt from their story follows.

Excerpt: ‘Tis The Season

The holidays seem to make shopping imperative. Being girls, we enjoyed that event just as much as the nursing home women did. However, sometimes, our allowances were needed for more important things than just a new outfit to add to the other twenty- five in our closets. Our club was about to happen on one of those causes.

Right before the holidays a year earlier, Joy found out that one of her friends had inherited two cousins. One of the boys was just two weeks old and the other was eighteen-month-old when their single mother died in her apartment of an epileptic seizure. These two miracles survived two days with their deceased mother before authorities found them. Their aunt’s family was not well to do but had inherited two cribs for the boys. However, just near Christmas, they needed real beds for these toddlers.

Our neighborhood parents have a cookie swaps once a year during the holidays. The mothers go and exchange sweets while discussing us. We always wanted to be able to attend. This year the club came up with a reason to be invited to this party. We wanted to raffle items using the proceeds to buy at least one bed for these two boys.

Nicole’s mother hosted and let us set up a table to sell tickets. There were donations of new jewelry and Christmas items to raffle. We charged a dollar a ticket. On our little table sat our flyer of community services completed and goals to finish this year.

As one guest read the document, she handed us a five-dollar bill whispering to my mother, “What is their goal?”

“At least one bed,” She responded.

“Well, good luck. They probably won’t even raise enough for a mattress,” this woman added.

“I’ve seen them sell one hundred and seventy one dollars’ worth of lemonade and still have over half the original gallon. I bet they can get this bed,” My mother defended.

“Good luck,” The guest reiterated.

“I believe in miracles,” Mom observed smugly. “ ‘Tis the season!”

The next morning as we recounted the cash, it was our turn to gloat. We had raised one hundred-forty dollars for our orphans. Nicole and I had come up with the raffle idea and our pride filled us with joy.

The telephone rang early; it was Laura, Nicole’s mother. “Hey, why don’t we go to estate sales, today? We could try to find a nice used bed for the girls to give this orphan,” She suggested to our only adult, permanent member to this club. Along with exhausting and futile searches, they checked the local paper. In the paper, there was an ad for twin beds. Laura made a call to the woman with this item. After hearing the story, the lady agreed to meet us and possibly sell us the bed for a bit less than the asking price of four hundred dollars.

Laura made to appointment and took the directions to the self-storage facility. Unfortunately, Nicole’s mother was new to the area and from Brazil originally. Sometimes, these facts lead to communication difficulties. Unaware that we didn’t really know where this storage facility was located, the club members entered Nicole’s and my mother’s van.

“Okay, I’ll follow you,” My mother yelled across to the other driver.

After a few turns and some meandering, my mother became anxious. We were headed towards the migrant farmer area of town and away from storage facilities. A few more blocks and we’d be past the agricultural area landing in the middle of alligator pods and wilderness. Realizing there was a problem, my mother began signaling with her lights for Laura to stop. The others in that van must have realized we were lost because it didn’t take long for both vehicles to pull off the road to discuss the situation.

“I don’t know. This facility should have been sooner,” Laura spoke in her heavy Brazilian accent.

“I think we got a turn or two the wrong direction,” My mother agreed.

“Well, she says turn right on Airport Road,” Laura read her scratch sheet of paper.

“What is the name of the storage place?”

“U-Store, I think.”

“Hmm, I think I know where we wanted to be. Follow me!”

Then without a clue to whether she was heading for the correct facility because this area was big enough for several storage places. Our main chaperone led on a wing and a prayer. She pulled our car into the location that seemed correct but it had the wrong name.

As Laura pulled into a parking slot nearby, our fearless leader jumped out of the car and ran over to her window, “This place has the wrong name but is the only one on this road. Are you sure you have the street name correct?”

“Here, I have a telephone number. Maybe, we can call the owner,” Laura offered just as confused.

My mom grabbed her cell phone from our car and dialed rapidly muttering, “She’s probably at the storage place and won’t even answer this call.” Then, someone answered and a conversation occurred, “I am at public storage facility on Airport Boulevard, am I at the right location?” After a few nods and frowns, our leader spoke aloud to us. “I think we are lost. The woman on the telephone was the mother of the seller. We’ll wait ten minutes before we give up. The lady says we are at the right spot, maybe.”

It seemed like an eternity, “Let’s go. This lady isn’t late! We are at the wrong place!” Joy’s impatience revealed itself, again.

Just as we all gave up hope, in came a car with a “Jesus is the magic” sticker. It was truly a miracle that we found one another because we arrived by reversing the scribbled directions, and she was held up in traffic. When she called home her mother told her we were at the wrong location. So, this Christian almost drove home but figured she’d drive by just in case her mother was incorrect.

After a good chuckle, we started to bid on the twin beds. They were gorgeous oak and in fine shape. However, we only had one hundred-forty dollars, and it was weeks until Christmas. Thus, our allowances were all assigned to various gifts for our family.

“I am sorry! I want to help your cause but these two beds that can be arranged as bunks are less than a year old. I paid a thousand dollars for them before I lost my job. The price of four hundred is already a sacrifice.”

“Couldn’t you sacrifice a bit more?” Laura’s mom commanded instead of questioning. “These beds are for some orphans not for some rich family.”

“They lost their mom to epilepsy and went to stay with their aunt who already had children to raise. She lost her job to care for her nephews,” Mom tugged on her heart.

“Excuse us,” Laura pulled my mother aside. “These beds are too nice, and she has her own sad story. I don’t think she’ll give them to us for less. What should we do keep looking?”

“Yes!” Then our leader noted, “The girls only have one hundred-forty. We can’t even meet her in the middle with a bid.”

Wandering back over, my mother explained it to us all. At that, the stranger stopped our movement back to our vehicles, “I’ll let you have both beds for two hundred dollars but only if you can pick them up by tomorrow.”

“Sold!” We all screamed as Laura and Mom flinched. The club was sixty dollars from reality. However, our leader knew that when we had a goal we’d usually surpass it so both adults remained silent or too stunned to speak. In either case, I called an emergency meeting to find sixty dollars in less than twenty-four hours.

As we sat at our kitchen table, Stacey, my cousin and current sibling, overheard the plight of the two orphans. She was five years older than I was, so this sister usually stayed away from my activities. However, this project hit home for her. A few years before this Christmas and a short time before Jane lost her dad, Stacey buried her mother due to cancer and her dad because of suicide. After these four horrible weeks, my cousin came to our house permanently and became our older sister. Thus, she could empathize with the plight of orphans.

Wandering back in sight, Stacey tossed ten dollars on the table. “Here, I want to help with my allowance.” She vanished as quickly as the money arrived to the table.

“We can use our allowance. If we all gave ten dollars it would be more than enough,” I stated.

The next day was rainy. Our leader had arranged for my dad to drive the beds to their new home using his pickup truck. She invited the recipients to meet us at the storage facility and guide us to their home. It poured and drenched all the earth around us as we loaded up the beds and covered them with traps, plastic, and raincoats. Then, we caravanned to their new location. In spite of the rain, the orphans received their Christmas gifts early.

Our main adult sponsor has a letter from Jesus that her mother left behind on the day of her death. It talks about talking problems over with Jesus and letting him be your friend or guide. One line in the note says that He feels our emotions with us, and his tears are in the rain. Today, they are droplets of joy; I am sure.

“Praise the Lord,” the new mother of the orphans, their Aunt Nora, gasped as she hugged each member in attendance and blew kisses to the rest. Then, she made her two toddler boys smooch each girl and with a loud voice say, “Thank-you!”

Before we left, my mother bent over to say good-bye to the boys. The oldest one leaped into her arms hugging her wildly. Our mentor threw her head back laughing. Then, she talked quietly into his ear, “You are so sweet.”

At his young age, he seemed brilliant as he told her loudly, “I see the angels! Right there!”

“Where?” My mother giggled not mockingly but just because she was taken off guard.

Nora chimed in, “This one is so special!” She grabbed his arm and said, “He sees the angels that took care of his brother and him. I believe him.” She gave the child a peck on the cheek.

Then, he made his eyes stay open by using his fingers saying, “When mommy was like this,” the unspoken word was dead, “the angels told me what to do for my brother.”

“The angels were with you,” Nora sang hugging the youngest child. “They helped you find food to feed your brother and yourself.”

“Yes, I found the cereal. I couldn’t do the diaper.”

“That’s okay because your brother was clean at the hospital.”

“Yes, the angels helped him.” This youngster jumped from my mother’s arms taking his brother by the hand. They ran off to jump on his newly installed bed. We followed except for Nora and our mentor.

“It took two days for the neighbors to realize something was wrong. My sister was dead just after coming home because the baby was still strapped in his car seat. My sister must have gone for her medicine but didn’t make it. The medicine was lying next to her.”

“Wow!” My mom listened as I lurked in earshot.

“When the neighbors realized that my sister had not been seen in days and the baby was crying too much, they went to her door. It was locked but that little boy,” Nora recounted the incident while pointing towards the bunk beds, “called out, ‘My mom is sleeping too long!’ ”

“Sad!” My mom tried to imagine the scene. I did, too.

“That boy was only eighteen months old, and he was really being instructed by his angels to know what to say. They put another older child through an open window. She went into my sister’s apartment unlocking the door for the police and her parents. They found the boys. The oldest was trying to wake his mom up to talk to them.” She mimicked him poking her face to wake her up. “Like that!”

“Awe, were they okay? I mean I know the boys lived but were they okay at that point? Was the little girl that opened the door traumatized?”

“All the children saw the angels according to her mother. That kept the girl okay,” Nora told her newest children’s story. “They took these guys to the hospital and not one diaper rash out of either of them. Not one bruise or harmful mark! No sign of dehydration or malnutrition! The oldest said it was because of the angels. I believe him.”

Goose bumps took over my skin as I believed this story, too. “It makes sense. To last two days unharmed, there must have been angels with them.”

“To this day, anyone that helps these boys is blessed. You all are very blessed,” Nora added.

“Yes, we were to get these beds for you!” My mom gloated.

“No, I mean you are blessed forever by these children’s angels.”

After that, the oldest boy emerged from his bedroom and leaped back up into my mother’s arms. “Thank-you!” He hugged her. “Did you see them? The angels are here!”

My mom nodded and smiled at him.

“This one is very leery of strangers, but he loves you,” Nora explained. “It is because you are close to his angels. All of you are! God bless you!”

The little boy’s sentences were so eloquent for his age that he captured our imagination. His new mother was so sure about the angels that none of us left doubting their miracle story.

To the neighbor that played doubting Tom, my mother’s heart winked as she said, “I believe in miracles!” However, sometimes, you have to help God accomplish them instead of just praying and then waiting.

A majority of the proceeds from the S.H.E. Anthology go to agencies that deal with children with PTSD. So, come on buy to be inspired and help grieving children.
It’s a WIN-WIN.

Blogger’s main author page is @ WEEBLY, you can find many nonfiction uplifting books there.

AMAZON author page:

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The Unscheduled Stops – Release Day

I’ve made it to Release Day!  The Unscheduled Stops anthology is now available for download on Smashwords.  The e-book is free until Dec. 31, 2011.

View the video trailer on Youtube – The Unscheduled Stops – Trailer.

Take a look at the webpage

How would you like to win an 11X17 photographic print of the original, untitled, wrap-around cover design, signed by artist Dave J. Ford and myself?  Here’s how you do it…

This is a writing challenge.  In less than 350 words, introduce a character to me by describing ONLY their hands.  Writers will often give descriptions of a character’s body or facial structure.  We nearly always describe their eyes, but rarely have I seen a characters hands mentioned or decribed.  Place your entry in the comments below until December 5, 2011.  I will then post the entries on my fanpage for two days.  My fans will chose the winner by “liking” the entries. The entry with the most likes by midnight on December 7th (E.S.T.), will win the print.  Good Luck!! (If you’d like to see a copy of the print, you can view it HERE.

Now, back to the book.  The anthology is 5 pieces of poetry/prose and six short stories. Here is a breakdown of the short stories:

Daisy’s Love at War – 2892 words
An 84 year old widow living with dementia, Daisy Patterson struggles with reality, fantasy and memory.  She was a war-bride and a writer in her youth.  One of her caregivers is about to discover there’s more to Daisy than anyone thought.

No Cookies Today – 720 words
An errand, a bag of cookies and a temper tantrum; the things that can change our perspective can be so unusual.

Thief’s Moon – 2608 words (erotic-romance)
A cat burglar and a lawyer with a shared past.  Love and passion can change everything.

Chance – 1300 words
Even when your heart is brittle, sometimes love is worth the risk.

A Startling Character – 981 words
A writer goes to a cafe to find a subject for a character study, but who is studying who?

Moving On – 1224 words
The end of a marriage is painful. What comes after is even harder.

I hope you enjoy your journey to The Unscheduled Stops with me.

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A Walk in the Park.

Good Morning!

Today I would like to offer you a small extract from my, hopefully, soon to be published short story, A Walk in the Park. It’s a very short paranormal tale of a man who dreams his own destiny.

Rick heard the whining as he reached his front door after a day at work that had dragged until time slowed to almost stop. He’d named the dog, Heathcliffe, just so he could call the name out in the park. He’d toyed with other names, not so savoury nor as polite, but just as funny. But the shaggy mongrel with the mostly black coat had suited the name, Heathcliffe. So that had stuck. He’d rescued Heathcliffe from the local animal shelter, a skinny, scruffy mutt with adorable eyes, and since then the dog had filled out into a delightful companion who followed Rick everywhere and pined when left alone.

Today it was raining and Rick wished he could stay at home, curled on his large, blue sofa in front of the television on a quiet road on one of the new estates springing up around Wingate. Instead, the dog had been sitting by the door as he arrived home from work. Heathcliffe had his leash clamped firmly in his mouth and seemed to be grinning, teeth bared and panting with his tongue lolling. His huge brown eyes wide and ears perked up. Well, one perked, the other never quite made it, the one with just a sprinkle of white on the tip.

Rick reached down and the leash was placed carefully into his hand. He hung it back on the hook. “Let me get changed first? I suppose a drink and something to eat is out of the question?”

The dog barked, just once. Rick shrugged. “I thought not.” Heathcliffe followed him to the bedroom, waiting expectantly in the doorway while Rick got changed. The dog’s nose brushed the side of his leg as he went into his kitchen to grab a chocolate bar and his trainers. A glance out of the window made Rick reach for his coat but he thought the sky was brightening a little. He laced his trainers up tightly, and Heathcliffe was waiting by the door with his favourite, chewed, slobber soaked, tennis ball in his mouth. “Come on then.” Rick fastened the leash and took the dog out.

Thank you for taking the time to read, and to spend with Rick and Heathcliffe.

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