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Scavengers of Hope

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The Good Stuff

"Strong!" Try to make 'em all think I'm strong. Yeah, the face I keep putting on says I ain't tired. But these tear-stained eyes ain't lying. Cause hard, nobody told me life could be so hard. A weary soul with a worn out heart that's barely beating. But every time I get that feeling...I hit my knees with my hands held high, saying "dear lord Jesus! You know I can't do this on my own." I FEEL this song. Way down deep, all the way to my bone marrow. Watching it climb the charts...means that...

Howdy! (I had to say that, I'm from Texas!) I've only met about half of the folks on my email list, face to face. The other half, know me through my books or blogs. If you are wondering how I found you, it was through a contest you entered with Booksweeps. You traded your email address for a chance to win books, and hear about big discounts on books in the future. Like a firm southern handshake, you can count on, I'm keeping my end of the bargain. That's what this email is about...an ebook...

Here I sit in the waiting room. Not the doctor's office, but the waiting space, where I wait for Britton to take a breath. His face tinged blue, his eyes stare at nothing...he's not even gasping. No sign of life...my mind spins the what if's. My heart feels huge, pressing against my throat, choking me as I try to pray. Then, there's that tiny moment, between desperate prayers and no answers that eclipses the tick tock of the clock. The place of waiting, between the nonstop praying and the far...

How are you faring in this hot hot..."did we move closer to the Equator this summer, somehow?" Not only has it been a hot summer at our house, it has been an anxiety filled one. Britton seized in the pool, and ended up in ICU. Randy and I stayed tied in knots until we knew he was stable. We looked at each other and wondered... "How will we continue to live from tragedy to tragedy?" Our last day in ICU, my anxiety was in the stratosphere. I was dealing with my dad's imminent passing. My...

Tabautism@gmail.com

Going through some really old photos...I came across one of me and my sisters. I was maybe nine, wearing my favorite go go boots, and mini skirt. I had a big 'ole pout on my face, bottom lip out and my arms crossed. I laughed at how angry I was that day. I remembered saying to my momma, "That's not fair!" She looked at me with tired eyes, and a whole lot of life experience and said, "That's exactly right! Life isn't fair, and the sooner you learn that the better off you'll be!" It infuriated...

We've had seven good days in a row. Which we feel we seriously earned...we had so many bad ones I lost count. I was about to wallow in my misery when we finally turned a corner, and the God of all mercies lifted the darkness. Britton swam up slowly from all that weighed him down beneath the waves of behaviors and smiled bigger than the moon. He laughed and then he giggled...he ran and jumped in his bed. He was free of whatever held him...at least for now. It's an insurmountable difficulty......

Thirty years later and the guilt eats at me. Whenever my son's suffering increases I begin battling the same questions, I've asked myself year after endless year. "Why didn't I pray more? Why didn't I hear God when I prayed about the vaccines? Why Britton? Where is God? Why didn't He stop me? Why doesn't He heal him? Are we being punished? Does God even love us anymore? I decided to be transparent about the progression of blame. Because we all do it. We blame ourselves and when that...