Amazing Grace & Blooming Gardens

So back to the story . . . I'm in the hospital for the second time, hurting, nauseous and miserable.  To be honest, I was pretty much everything but scared.  It never occurred to me that the nausea was more than just that. I figured I'd get fixed up and be on my way home.  But they did a CT scan and the blood work came back.

The next day it was definitive: acute renal failure. 

I'll never forget hearing those words, but at the same time, the moment wasn't real.  A good looking young doctor stood at the foot of the bed and very carefully walked me through the events that led to the moment--the pain meds, the nausea, the stomach stuff, the blood pressure medicine. Then he said that my kidneys had essentially stopped working.  The chances of them coming back? He declined to say which I understand. He had a stethoscope, not a crystal ball.  The IV treatment stuff started big time. The pastor of our church and a good friend came and we prayed. I can't remember a single word, just that sense of abiding in God's presence, that certainty that that He knew all about this mess and that I was safe in a way that defied test results.

That night I had a cystoscopy plus stents put in by a doc who could have been an extra in MASH.  Seriously, he reminded me of Alan Alda. Turns out he's an old trauma surgeon. Compassion oozed from that man. When he looked at me and said he did this all the time and could do it in his sleep, I believed him.

So they knocked me out again, I had the procedure, and the waiting began to see if my kidneys would jumpstart. 

Still, no fear.  Just that sense of God is God.  If I can trust him with my eternal soul, surely I can trust him with my earthly body.  This doesn't mean I expected to be healed. It means I knew God would be with my family and me wherever the path led, even to a life on dialysis as remote as that seemed.  I had a dream that night about a tapestry being woven.  I was a little yellow flower. Friends and family were other types of plants and flowers, but the main thing about that image was that the tapestry was being woven by God one needle prick at a time, and that those flowers were all connected in an amazing garden of beauty.  

It's sounds a little pain-induced now, but that dream is embedded in my brain.  The oneness I felt with God and community--everyone from family to friends to church friends to nurses and docs--was beyond description.

We got word the next afternoon that my kidney function was back to 100% normal.  That's when it hit . . . I was on the mend.  As things turned out, there was one more ordeal . . . more on that later.

Multiply Simulcast

Last night I attended "Multiply," a three-hour video conferences with David Platt and Frances Chan about making disciples. 

Three hours on an uncomfortable chair.

Three hours with the uncomfortable realization that I'd lost my first love. 

But it was also three hours in the presence of a loving, almighty, merciful God . . . the God who sent his son first, then the Holy Spirit, to empower us to do his work.  Make that:

EMPOWER

That was my biggest take-away last night--a reminder of who God is. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords gives us supernatural power to do the work he's called us to do. We are connected to God the Father. Make that:

CONNECTED

I don't need to sweat out Chapter 8 (it's a tough one). I need to pray and give it to God.  This book is his--not mine.  I'm the scribe, or maybe an empty tube of a pen in need of spiritual ink. Frankly, I'm a lousy writer and a fairly good editor. No wonder I've been tired, dragging, and a little burned out. Like the Little Engine that Could, I've been chugging along in my own strength, writing this book to a schedule, pushing myself at the day job, and juggling some family/health things.

Go! Go! Go!

Do! Do! Do!

And all the time, God's been whispering, "Pray about it, Child."  Make that:

PRAY

This isn't the first time I've been around this mountain. It probably won't be the last, but for now I'm back on track. The Little Engine That Could is taking on fresh coal today. 

Research & POV

My current manuscript has a child's POV in it.  Wow, that's tough to write . . . much harder than I imagined, especially since my character has fetal alcohol spectrum disorder.  A few weeks ago I asked for recommendations of books with the child's POV over at Facebook, and I'm working my way through them.

This one is just amazing . . . Mockingbird.  It's about a ten-year-old girl with Asperger's who is processing her brother's death.  Not only is it a study in Asperger's, it's a terrific example of deep third person POV, where you are in the character's mind so thoroughly that feel every word. 

Highly recommended!

A Picture In A Wallet

The guy in front of me in line was dressed in old dirty clothes, including a baseball cap with the American flag.  He walked with a crutch and had the glittery eyes of someone struggling to understand his surroundings. A veteran from the Vietnam era?  Maybe. Cigarette smoke wafted off his shirt. So did the smell of the street--a mix of sweat, grime and exhaust.  Or maybe exhaustion . . . It can't be easy to live in his skin.

He opened his wallet to pay.  The leather was in the same condition as the rest of him, and so was the stack of smudged business cards, wrinkled ID cards, other notes. The wallet held a grimy, depressing mess except for one full-color photograph of a girl in her late teens, smiling with perfect white teeth, her brunette hair long on her shoulders.

The picture had been taken recently judging by the girl's clothing and its pristine condition. A daughter? A niece?  I'll never know, but I wonder who she is, and if she knows what a bright spot she is in this man's life. I hope she does.

Plans for Saturday . . .

Up at 5:30 a.m. when my hubby leaves for work.

Write until 7:45 a.m.

Walk the dog . . . his favorite part of the day.

Breakfast with friends at Windy Corners here in Lexington.

Home around 10:30 a.m.

Internet time and more  writing.

A phone call or two to out-of-state friends.

Chores . . . laundry never ends.

Saturday evening service at Southland Christian Church.

Somewhere in there I need to get in a two-mile walk. Nothing helps creativity like exercise and healthy eating.  Can't say I enjoy it all the time, but I like the results.

Oh!  If the horses show up at the back fence, I'll break out the carrots. 

New Website

I can hardly wait!!!!  After five years, I'm trading in the cowboy boots on www.victoriabylin.com  for something modern and upbeat.  I loved those boots. They were a perfect fit for my old westerns, but I'm even more excited about doing something new.

Colors?  I can't decide between bright and cheerful, or subtly passionate and evocative.

I like red and gray together. Kind of odd, but it's looks great on the screen.

My favorite color is turquoise, but it's kind of blah on a screen.

I buy books with pretty landscapes, but I hear that readers like people on covers.  Do I put my new photo on page one or just with the bio?

The book pages need to be organized by the type of book, since I have mainstream westerns, inspirational westerns and an inspirational contemporary.

I like sites with a clean, readable look.  The faster, the better.

"Behind the Book" tabs always get my interest.

I'm sure there's more.   Aiming for October 15th for the big unveil . . .

Writer Moment

I finished the revisions for Until I Found You about two weeks ago.  Once I'm done with a book, I don't like to look at it again, not even when it's in print.  But there's a moment where the finished ms is like wet paint . . . I just have to touch it one more time, to take one more glance to see if it's as complete as I thought it was when I typed "The End."

I just had that moment with Until I Found You.  Whew!  Nothing made me cringe, except one little itty-bitty typo.  On to the next ms . . .