Calling All Prayers

You ever prayed hard about something near and dear to your heart you feel like you might explode from the waiting?

Well, folks. That's how I feel. Right 'bout now. And I'm asking. Asking for your prayers.

Seems as though we're supposed to imagine it. Expect it. Believe and ye shall receive. I read in the newspaper about a woman who imagined herself right into the most wonderful blessing of her life. I'm wondering how much reality there is in that.

But prayers are what I need now. Your prayers. I'm not whining about it, nor seeking any self-serving pity, God no. It's just, well, when you've fought so hard for so long, found yourself running into one wall after another, and then like a miracle, the end result of your life's work is within arms reach -- it's nigh unto impossible to sit and wait yet again. But all it takes is one person. One person to read and believe.

There's more than just light at the end of the tunnel, folks. I've come out of the other side here, and the sky is achingly bright blue.

I do believe every once in a while a prayer slips in, a sweet sound that reaches the ear of God. It makes Him smile and say, "Why not? Let's make it happen. Let's see what she does with it."

So I would appreciate your prayers.

Blessings to you and yours.

Happy New Year!

So much is happening, I haven't even had time to write a Merry Christmas blog. But then again, I didn't do a whole lot this holiday season other than work on edits for The Sanctum and prepare for the day my agent plans to submit to New York publishers, which is right around the corner. It was a working holiday. For sure.

A few inches of snow ended up in my front yard on Christmas evening but I didn't notice it. I don't think I left the house more than three or four times the whole of December. I spent no time this Christmas with family. They're all out of state and I was up to my eyeballs in work. I think I watched one Christmas movie, listened to a few carols, wrapped one or two gifts, and baked two pies. That was it. Whoopee.

The holiday of a writer under the gun.

I hate to admit this but I didn't even put up a tree this year. Just my manger scene, a gift from my best friend, Tina. That's it. That was the extent of our Charlie Brown Christmas. My husband and I agreed that since nobody was coming this year and both of us were working on deadlines, it just wasn't going to be our Currier & Ives Christmas. Not this year.

But I'm okay with it.

Some years are definitely better than others. Quite possibly, next year could be a banner year. Still, it just happened to turn out that Christmas fell in the midst of getting my novel seamless. And so -- you make the sacrifice.

I'm looking forward to the new year, and with any luck, it'll be a very happy one. I could use one for a change.

Many happy new year blessings to you and yours, as well.