Battling the Big CA--An Amazing Short Fiction Story by Steve J. Stroble

Aretha Franklin sang about how her man made her feel natural. Next, Frank Sinatra intoned about going from the bottom of the heap to the top, from beggar to king. The chorus echoed “that’s life…” over and over. 

Hearing about life made me reflect on mine, especially when the third song began, one by those lords of the dark side, The Doors, a quartet more at home with death than life. Instead of one of their chart topping singles, such as Light My Fire, Love Me Two Times, or L.A.Woman, hits from when songs were sold as 45 rpm vinyl disks, a B-side and lesser heard song pulsed from the speakers into my ears. The Crystal Ship, a fantasy tale condensed into three minutes, promised thrills and girls by the thousands as I sat alone in the treatment room. 

As if cued by the music, my dermatologist appeared and donned a pair of goggles that magnified his eyesight and gave him the appearance of an X-man as he scanned my body. “We need to cut those out today. Is that okay?” 
Huh? You tell me, Doc, I thought. I mumbled my consent with the kind of who cares attitude that Jim Morrison of the Doors and Frank Sinatra had anointed me with during the last two songs. “Sure, why not?” 
So the evil looking skin was cut out and sent to a lab in a larger city, and from there forwarded to a lab in San Francisco for further analysis. At the next appointment my dermatologist said, “Pre-melanoma,” before taking out surrounding tissue from one of the three still healing areas. Because melanoma had killed my wife’s uncle, the doctor said all my children needed their skin to be examined by “a dermatologist, not a general practitioner.” They did and are fine.
~~~

Battling the Big CA

By Steve J. Stroble

Although written as fiction, I can't help but feel the author has had some type of personal experience with one of the most feared diseases. I just had one test to determine one place was clear, while another location on my body has to be rechecked in six months. Cancer--even the author gave it another, easier name--CA--as his title. Since there is cancer on my father's side of my family, I wanted to read this short story...

“He has CA.” She whispers the abbreviation, as if saying cancer aloud will aggravate the curse inflicted on his body and make him die sooner.

I was, however, totally, thankfully, gratified with this easy-to-read inspiring book. If someone you know has concerns about cancer, like I have, then I highly recommend this for your consideration.

"It was a lack of faith on their part,”

 some say. “Maybe they had some

 secret sin that they refused to repent of,”

 a few say.

But most say, 

“It was their time to go and be

 with the Lord forever.“

~~~

His wife had seen the spots on his back and told him to get them checked out... Soon he was sitting in the office waiting to see the dermatologist, who indicated he thought he should send the spots off for testing...

They were pre-melanoma...

As if to reinforce the danger, he soon heard of several people in his community who also were diagnosed...both had died.

Then he started remembering other cases, some of which initially claimed that God had healed them...only to later die...

When something happens medically, no matter what it is, each of us becomes more conscientious about our health, how we are treating our body... And he did do that...by the way, the male lead in the story is never named....

Returning to his dermatologist, he didn't proceed as usual...He told him he was going to send him to a surgeon..."to see what was inside..."

In the car on the way home I punch buttons to bring the radio to life. The English band Yes sings about an Owner of a Lonely Heart and berating that sufferer for never thinking of the future. I don’t like thinking of possible futures, such as ending up like my two neighbors who battled cancer for the full fifteen rounds before losing on TKOs, technical knockouts that left behind widows, children, and grandchildren. 
I change the station. On the next station, Stephen Stills is singing about leaving his troubles behind by sailing to the South Pacific, where he finds the Southern Cross, a formation of stars blinking in the nighttime skies. For him, it’s a matter of the truth one is trying to escape being small in comparison to a future day. Two for two, at least when comparing the two songs to the way life is unfolding.

Is the glass half empty or half full? At least the doctor thought the lymph nodes in my groin were okay after he examined them. Inches from the cancer, they are quite vulnerable, according to the little I know...

Bringing up prayer moves the discussion into a spiritual realm, a battleground for most couples, including us. Not only am I from Pluto and she from Mercury, but I was raised Catholic and she Baptist.
She likes Jews for Jesus. The Messianic Jews who spoke to my spirit were the pair of musicians who as songwriter and producer released albums as a group named Lamb...


Sometime during childhood, I decided that listening to the song, reading the book, or watching the movie or TV show exempted me from any of the drama, good or bad, that life might bring my way. But while the physically injected radioactive dye had a half-life of six hours, those stories tended to attach themselves to my mind, will, and emotions, sometimes for decades, maybe even for a lifetime.
~~~

I must admit that adding the music that was used in the story added greatly to my response. I thought it was a good book, but listening to the words of the songs he'd included made it...

overwhelming...

It was only later in the book that I realized that the story would end in discussions on faith and healing...and the ending, though not expected, was...just perfect, in my opinion...

Here's my own personal song, His Eye is On The Sparrow,  I want to add as the closing if I may...I've sung it many times, but I don't think I've ever felt the truth of the words so clearly than after reading this book. Thank you Steve Stroble...

GABixlerReviews

Steve Stroble grew up as a military brat, which took him from South Dakota to South Carolina to Germany to Ohio to Southern California to Alabama to the Philippines to Northern California. Drafted into the Army, he returned to Germany. 

He has been writing for publication since 1971 and after numerous tries at traditional publishing finally found a home by self publishing.

Thank You Dylan Morrison for Sharing Your Story...

Jesus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
"Fully convinced that I was safe from the clutches
of the visiting American fundamentalists, I wasn't
prepared for what lay around the next spiritual
corner.
"The following afternoon, as I closed the front door
of our home preparing to jump into my car, I
suddenly stopped. "What on earth was that?" I asked
myself.
"'That' had been a gentle but firm Voice from
somewhere within the confines of my head.
"This was its crystal clear message: 'If you love Zan
you will go with her to the meeting on
Thursday evening."
"Bizarre.
"As I drove into Ballybrigg's town centre, I couldn't
shake off this hauntingly invasive command. It
kept rattling around the reluctant caverns of my
puzzled mind. I recognized the Voice though.
There was no doubt about it. I'd heard it many times
in the past. It was Holy Breath, more popularly
known in religious circles as Holy Spirit, the
Spirit of Yeshua, the Anointed One. About the only
thing I knew for certain in my confused state was
my deep unquestionable love for Zan, so that was it
settled..."

The Prodigal Prophet

By Dylan Morrison


In today's world, a marvelous thing is possible! Dylan Morrison, author of The Prodigal Prophet can have his books placed right into our hands! Now this was important to me, even more than those that I've read from authors from other countries--because Dylan's story was for me... It just may be for your too. If something in these thoughts I'm sharing means just a little to you...then I recommend that you get his book immediately! Dylan brought His love into my life--the important kind--the Jesus kind...

If you have been disgruntled, disgusted, or agonizing over the pain and violence in today's world. Dylan will speak to you. If you have been disappointed by work, by the church, or by the political world, then Dylan has something to share with you. For me, there was quite a lot; for you it might just be one thing. But maybe that one thing has been preventing you from moving forward in your life...  The Prodigal Prophet is an autobiography to some extent; but I think because of where he lived, or the time in which he lived  his early years, there is much that may parallel your own.

You see, this is about Dylan's spiritual life. And he lived in Ireland during all that happened based upon religion! Dylan had met Jesus at an early age and had become very involved... He is still involved today, but in a very different way! I am thankful for his sharing what he went through to get where he is right now.

It was in the 1950s in conservative Northern Ireland where he was born... He was a Protestant. One of those who had won over the Catholics. Readers will share his early life within a family who sold fruit and vegetables to local markets. It was a small book given to him that helped him find God's Spirit.

During the years, he became more and more involved. And during the 60s and 70s, he was introduced to the Jesus people and various other denominations. He was actively within a specific group's administration...And then he wasn't... Was it really possible that his leader had become worried and jealous about Dylan's role? He had been his mentor and Dylan found it difficult to understand. This short paragraph is merely an overview, but years are covered as Dylan is searching for all that was available to him...

One of the issues that came to him was that the church was just as hierarchical as other organizations, including a search for power...and money...

He fell in love with Zan and married, soon to have a child Ben who had died. His cry to God had not helped to save him. As with all churches, organizations, et.al., there are always good people as well as those who look toward other gods for happiness. There were many there to help them through this tragedy.

Dylan had been given the gift of prophecy, but soon found that not everybody was willing to have him share to their congregations.

While surrounding Dylan's life, the book provides an excellent chronology and overview of the various movements that have captured the attention within Christian faiths, such as the Charismatic movement and others that I had not heard of. Many came from America but then were led by those living wherever Dylan and his family were located at any given time. At one point they had moved to California and other locations on the west coast, but then returned home.

And then Dylan was receiving not only messages for others but was dreaming and learning about what he was supposed to do as well. For one thing, God was taking over: "Unknown to me, though, Divine Providence was about to intervene in our faltering pilgrimage..."

I don't often read other reviews until after I've posted mine, but I did just now...and the majority of reviewers said that much of what Dylan has written is close to their own truths...  Doesn't that, in itself, speak to you? We are those that still believe...but have questioned the validity of teachings and structures of organized religion.

Have you heard the Voice? Maybe a long time ago? Or maybe not at all? But you think there has to be more? You are disillusioned with today's world. No promises, of course, for Dylan's book is not from a televangelist or major religious leader. All Dylan is doing is sharing his life's story with you...

Oh, I could add that He told him to...

YOU will know whether this book is for you...Hear that whisper?


GABixlerReviews

Dylan Morrison is an Irish spiritual author and out of the box Yeshua thinker, now resident in the beautiful English cathedral city of Lincoln.

A mathematics high school teacher in a previous incarnation he became an author after a two totally unexpected mystical experiences gate crashed his humdrum life in June 2004.

Dylan writes from a stream of consciousness, particularly for those damaged by or curious about the psycho-spiritual religious world.

His aim is to remove the religious packaging from around the historical Nazarene prophet, Yeshua, inviting his readers into a practical experience of Yeshua's spirituality.

Dylan's first book 'The Prodigal Prophet', a 'Wizard of Oz' meets Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress', details his roller coaster journey in search of the Divine in the often whacky but deeply tragic world of Irish evangelical religion.

Dylan's wife Zan is glad that he writes - it gives her a few hours each day to enjoy the peace and quiet that such a literary endeavour requires.

Dylan's second book 'Way Beyond The Blue', a 21st century take on the mystical search for meaning is soon to be published.

A Glimpse - Dakota Shares A Day.or... Perhaps, Better Stated...a 24-Hour Period.....

First, the random line from Dark Time:

She let her rented Taurus take her to the airport, driving on automatic as she mulled over the unusual experience of having someone within arm’s length drop dead, and she hadn’t done it.











I have strange habits as a writer. I know this because when the subject of "What's your day like?" comes up when I'm in a group of writers, I keep my mouth shut and listen to others answer. I've learned this because when I did speak up, there was usually silence followed by questions directed at the other authors. 

I used to be a morning person, but writing changed all that. Now I consider myself lucky if I can answer a routine email by 1pm. So here's how it goes, from noon to noon. 

At noon, I'm probably asleep. When the need to take care of natural bodily functions wake me (I implied that this wasn't pretty, and now I've confirmed it), I roll out of bed, my eyes blinking at the insult of daylight. I read the comics section of my local newspaper, squinting at the ever-smaller print and pictures. Two cups of coffee land in my stomach during this time. Caffeine molecules try to outdo each other in terms of stimulating my head to stay erect. Sounds vaguely naughty, but for the caffeine it is a serious challenge. 

Finally making it down the hall to my office, I have to push a cat off my chair to sit down. The cat, indignant at having to move, drops a new supply of shed cat hair on my keyboard. At least it's better than dropping something else. Clearing away the fur, I answer email concerning the business of writing. I notice that some people have emailed me at or before 8am, the start of the usual business day, and I'm hours late in responding. This is good in one respect--sometimes the crisis has passed by then. I'm smiling while answering email but since no one sees that and I am never sure if the recipients are going to take things the right way, I sprinkle in smiley faces. :) This results in strange emails such as:

Dear AA-Able Printers:

Your bookmark shipment to me is two weeks overdue. I don't want excuses and I especially don't want my customer services rep to communicate with me since he lies between what is left of his teeth. :) I just want a delivery date you can actually stick to. Please respond immediately. :)

Warmly, 
Dakota 

Then on to the pleasant job of responding to readers and authors. 

Time for breakfast. Then a couple hours of writing, or if necessary, more business stuff. If the weather is good I go out people-watching. I order shoes from an online site and ponder deeply whether to get white or black sneakers. There seems to be some hidden meaning there (perhaps concerning lunar cycles) that I can's quite grasp, so I blindly pick one and type in the magical 16 digits that bring products to my home. 

Time for lunch. At 6pm, my creativity has fled, so I take a nap. Sometimes half an hour, sometimes a serious sleep of 2-3 hours. 

Surf the web with the excuse that I'm doing research for my book. Actually do some research. Interact with my two 18-year-old sons, who mostly grunt and mumble things under their breath--I love them dearly :)--, and my husband, who wants to discuss the minute details of (fill in the blank with a consumer product) we probably can't afford. I spend time reading, sometimes for pleasure, sometimes in an analytical mode--how does this author achieve good pacing, that kind of thing. 

It's 10pm, or later. Time to get serious about writing. I reread what I wrote the night before and patch it up. Sometimes I back up further than one day's session for this editing. I edit as I go along, so that when I'm finished, the book is ready to be sent off to my editor. I don't make a quick first draft all the way to the end, as many authors do, and then revise the entire draft. This is one of the biggest differences I have when comparing my writing habits to those of other authors.

About 1am, I'll take a break and eat dinner. Maybe read a magazine. Back to writing, which sometimes means staring at the screen, writing one sentence, staring some more--or racing on with no idea of the passage of time. I'm in the zone. I rarely hit the zone outside the hours of 2am-5am. I get more writing done during these three hours than the other 21 hours of the day.

At 6am, I notice it's light outside and birds are chirping. Sleep until noonish. Repeat.

This, for me, is the glamorous writer's life. Interspersed are times of great satisfaction and excitement, times that send my heart soaring and remind me that I'm driven to write and can't imagine myself doing anything else. From small moments such as finding the perfect word to large ones like seeing my book in bookstores--this is the life for me.

Dakota Banks

New Spotlighted Author Brandilyn Collins - This Was A Must Read First For Me!

GOD'S MIRACULOUS HEALING OF ME FROM LYME DISEASE

by Brandilyn Collins




June 3rd, 2003

This is the miraculous story of my healing. But this is NOT about me. This is about God showing His glory to many in a fresh and vital way. My blessing in this is huge, yet it’s small compared to all the ways He’s blessing others who are hearing that their prayers for me have been answered.

I had Lyme Disease and two of its coinfections since July of 2002, almost a year. Even with treatment, I was going downhill. The diseases had attacked my joints like rheumatoid arthritis, my muscles like multiple sclerosis, and my brain's processing like Parkinsons. In the worst of days I couldn't even summon the energy to get dressed. Treatment to kill the Lyme and other diseases in my body caused periods of worsened symptoms called "Herx" periods, due to the toxins that are produced as the bugs are killed off. The Herx periods were supposed to lessen over time, but they weren't. My ministry of writing Christian fiction became so difficult, and I was falling behind on my book deadlines.

The last week of the illness was a relatively good one for me, which was expected. I went off part of the medication for a week, allowing my body to rest. On Monday May 12th I was scheduled to start another round of medication, the harshest yet, and one expected to cause the worst "Herx" periods of all. Taking advantage of my better week, my husband, Mark, and I decided to go to our second home in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho for the weekend. Then on Tuesday 6th God impressed upon me that we should visit the Healing Rooms in Spokane, Washington (close to Coeur d’Alene). This is a Christian ministry with a plethora of miracles in its history. (Please see the Web site at www.healingrooms.com. There are various Healing Rooms across the country.) We’d known about the Healing Rooms for some time but had not been in Cd’A at a time when we could go. Suddenly I really felt a real urgency to go.

Meanwhile, a gal from the ACFW e-mail loop (American Christian Fiction Writers, www.americanchristianfictionwriters.com) got a word from the Lord. She was to proclaim to ACFW that Saturday May 10 was a 24-hour day of prayer for me, and to sign up pray-ers for 15-minute slots, starting at midnight Fri. night. Now no one on the loop knew I was planning to go to the Healing Rooms that very day. But God knew. And He’d now made it clear—Saturday was His day for me. I grew expectant. I started telling my family, "I’m going to be healed Saturday."

Then I began hearing from others in ACFW how the list for praying was filling up. I cannot express how humbled that made me feel. It is very humbling to see others choose to serve you, when you’ve done nothing to deserve such service. Yet there it was. And to see that people were even getting up in the middle of the night! I thanked God, knowing my unworthiness, yet also knowing that He was planning something big—for the good of us all.

Saturday morning I was really hurting, paying for trying to do too much on Friday. I hobbled into the Healing Rooms using my cane as much as I could, but with a weak upper body, you can’t lean much on a cane. Amberly, our 13-year-old, and Brandon, our 20-year-old, went with Mark and me. The four of us couldn’t fit with the prayer team into one small room, so Mark and I went into one room while Brandon and Amberly went into another room with another prayer team to pray for me. The prayer team of 3 prayed for Mark and then for my healing. I felt nothing. They told me to believe God for healing and that it would come.

After that prayer session, by God’s design, I’m sure, the place was unusually empty. No more sick people to pray for. The prayer teams were just sort of standing around. So I felt I should take advantage and go in a second time with a different prayer team. The second time Brandon went in with me. The team prayed for me, and this time (as one ACFWer had said I should do) I prayed too, commanding aloud that the illness leave my body in Jesus’ name. Brandon prayed also. Again I felt absolutely nothing. The prayer team said sometimes people don’t feel anything, but then the healing just swiftly comes. When I went out of that session, I was walking a little better. But to tell the truth I wouldn't admit it. I was disappointed, because I'd expected to be healed right then--and FEEL it. For some reason, I said to myself, God hasn't healed me. Still, I willed myself to praise Him anyway.

We drove back to Coeur d’Alene, about a half-hour, and stopped at a restaurant for lunch. When I got out of our SUV, suddenly I didn’t need my cane. At all. And I walked into the restaurant slowly, but completely NORMALLY. I hadn’t walked like that for months! By the time we got to the house, I was really feeling better. The pain was gone. My knees were stronger. My elbows and neck didn’t hurt. I felt energy like I haven’t felt before. I went upstairs to our bedroom—and walked up the stairs NORMALLY! Then I came down them (really hard for weak legs) totally normally. I’d had to turn sideways and come down one step at a time for months, lowering only by using my left leg, because my right knee had been the worst. Now I just sailed down them. I let out a whoop and called the family to come see. So of course I had to go back up the stairs and come down them again. Normally!

They were quite nonplused, let me tell you.
I couldn’t help it; I had to strap on the ol’ jogging shoes. Hadn’t had on a pair of those in a long time. I went outside to walk around our driveway. The driveways altogether around the house and garages and up to the road and back form about a 1/3 mile loop. And there’s some grades to them. I hadn’t been able to go up and down grades, even with a cane, for a long time. Suddenly I was just walking up those hills. Then walking down. The Healing Rooms had given me a long prayer for healing. I took the piece of paper with me and began praying it out loud. I completed a whole loop, walking like a normal person, and said the prayer aloud. And I kept doing loops, each time saying the prayer and shouting to Jesus, let me tell you! I ended up doing 5 laps, about 1 mile. The last lap I actually did a light JOG!! My knees felt strong enough and I just eased into for a while.

I was healed. The only thing left was some stiffness in the backs of my knees. Because I haven’t been able to straighten my knees for months, the body tissue and muscles in the backs were tightening, shortening. This was leading to even more drawing up of my legs. If I had continued to be sick for months, as my doctor had predicted, this would have gotten worse and worse and required some real therapy even after healing. This tissue had to be lengthened again.

I wanted to keep walking after the five laps, but I knew I have to take it easy on my muscles, which aren’t used to the exercise. So I went inside and turned on emails. What an outpouring from folks at ACFW who were praying! And please note: They STILL didn't know I'd gone to the Healing Rooms. Only one or two were even aware that I knew about the prayer vigil. Yet post after post came through about the powerful prayer times people were having. They were being blessed, and God was giving many an expectation of a miracle. That day of prayer, indeed, was not about me. It was about God releasing His power—in my body, and in the minds of all of the pray-ers. Some of them even mentioned telling others—spouses or friends—about the prayers, and how that message affected those people. One of the gals stopped the work in a beauty parlor, as she was getting her hair colored when her time came to pray. Her hair dresser and the receptionist prayed too, and the receptionist said, "I've never felt closer to God than right now." Others mentioned their spouses' amazement at the day of prayer--and how it was a witness for them.

By this time it was about 4:00 Pacific time. People would still be praying for me until 10 p.m. my time (the prayer list was on Central time). I knew without a doubt that I could not write the ACFW loop and say anything then. God was continuing to pour out his blessings on ACFW, and that should continue until the end of the prayer time—for the pray-ers and for me. I felt the continued prayers would help my knees right up to the end of the day, and people would continue to be blessed.
Other sample statements from the pray-ers as they wrote the loop on Saturday:

"I could see Christ's light of healing and love going right through Brandilyn's life."

"No words would come except for Brandilyn's name. The more I tried to concentrate, the more her name kept being repeated. So I spent the whole time just saying her name, figuring the Holy Spirit knew what He wanted to say."

"This prayer list was called forth by God Himself. He will be lifted up and praises from the results of this day will be spoken throughout the world for some time to come."

"I really felt the presence of God."

"By the time I finished praying and crawled back into bed at 3:05 a.m., I knew that God had already begun to answer."

"I felt the strong desire to pray that God would heal Brandilyn right then."

"I was amazed at how blessed I was MYSELF during my half hour of prayer."

"God impressed me with the need to pray for healing right now. That prayer stream went throughout the day."

"When I closed my eyes to pray, I felt like I was already at the throne room of grace."

"It was a time of indescribable peaceful communion."

And the last pray-er, at 11:45 p.m. Saturday night (after I'd been completely healed):

"The song 'Praise Him, praise Him, all ye little children' kept running through my head and interrupting my prayers, so I finally decided to just sing the song and changed my prayer of supplication to a prayer of praise for what I knew God had accomplished that day through the faithfulness of His children."

God had done an amazing thing. He'd used one small issue in my life as a springboard for pouring out His blessings on many.

I went to bed at 9:00. For the first time in months, I didn’t put a pillow lengthwise under my legs. I’d had to do this because I couldn’t straighten my knees, and because I needed my heels to hang off the pillow so they wouldn’t rest on the bed, which hurt. But no pillow that night. At first it was a little uncomfortable, but I would not use the pillow. I thought, "People are still praying for me, and God is still answering. By morning this is going to be better." And it was. By morning, I could sleep on my back with no discomfort. My knees were straighter.

Mark and I got up and went for a three-mile walk. Three miles! Dear friends, I’d counted it wondrous when I could shuffle a lap around the downstairs of our home. I came home from the walk and cleaned the kitchen. Did some vacuuming. Vacuuming! All of you who hate this job—rejoice now when you do it. Because you CAN!
Two days later on Monday the 12th I started the hard medication. I couldn't see my doc for over 4 weeks because she’d gone on vacation. Mark and I talked about it, and prayed, and it was clear that I was to take this medication. (The Healing Rooms tells you to not stop medication until a doctor verifies your healing.) I prayed for God’s protection against the hard medicine itself, which in those high doses has put people in the hospital. As for the bad Herxes, they only come when the Lyme and other diseases are being killed. I knew God had killed off the little buggers already, so believed that no Herx would occur. And that's exactly what happened--NOTHING! No Herxing has provided part of the medical proof of my healing. The final proof will come when my doc sends me for for re-testing of my blood.

I must say, as difficult as this sick time was, I would not trade it. Because God showed me SO MUCH. I am not the same person I was before the illness. He has used this illness for His glory in my life—a wondrous example of Romans 8:28. When I was first diagnosed the husband of an ACFW friend called me to tell me he had a word from the Lord for me. Now keep in mind I don’t even know this guy, so he was being brave to obey God and call me. He told me God would heal me in time, but in the meantime He wanted to draw me to Himself. More and more deeply. I heard that word deep in my spirit; I knew it was from God. And right away I vowed obedience to that word, and I began much longer periods of devotions, and I began praying the Psalms. Here in a nutshell is what God taught me:

1. An eternal perspective. As the old Southern gospel song goes, "This world is not my home; I’m just a-passin’ through." When we think eternally, even the harsh things of this world lessen in significance.

2. Praise. He showed me how to pray the Psalms daily, aloud. Didn’t matter how I felt. Didn’t matter if I could hardly speak, or if I was crying from frustration and weakness. What mattered was my WILL to praise God, because HE IS GOD, regardless of my circumstances. Our merciful Lord enlarged my heart and taught me how to do this. I didn’t always feel good for having done it right away, I can tell you, but God sure blessed me over time through this. And I can’t even take the credit for being faithful, because, good grief, without His help, I never could have done it in the first place.

3. Serving with delight. No, *I* wasn’t serving; I couldn’t do anything. I watched others serve me. Friends sent me cards, emails, flowers, gifts, books. Mothers drove my daughter to school. Most of all my husband did everything—my job and his too. And he did it with such patience and caring. When my brain would get all scrambled and I could hardly speak, he would patiently wait for the words to come out. He’d call every day from work to check up on me. He’d rush home and make dinner. He learned to navigate the treachorous aisles of the grocery store. My illness was very stressful and depressing for him because he loves me so much. Yet he always served me with DELIGHT. Not out of joyless obligation. What a lesson he taught me. What a lesson so many have taught me.

4. Humility. This comes right out of #3. You can’t accept all this wondrous, undeserved service from people and not be greatly humbled. And it’s humbling just to not be able to do things—to walk right, to think right or speak normally. God has stripped me of many ego issues—and wow, what a wonderful thing!

5. Faith. Somehow God in His mercy managed to show me, even when I was at my worst, how to have bigger and bigger faith in Him. He showed me how all of us believers are in the palm of His hand. And He WILL provide.

I also must mention that the ACFW friend’s husband called me numerous times during my illness. He called a month ago, encouraging me to keep drawing closer to God and praising Him. And he gave me a prophetic word: "God is going to visit you." Well, now, and didn’t God do just that. As one of the ACFW pray-ers said (in what is clearly another prophetic word)-- "God will be lifted up, and praises from the results of this day will be spoken throughout the world for some time to come."

Update May 10, 2008:

It's been five years! I remain healthy, I'm still running, I'm still praying the psalms. And at the moment I’m writing my 19th book.

Review: See Australia Through Eyes of Cynthia Clampitt!

Waltzing Australia
By Cynthia Clampitt
BookSurge
ISBN: 1419663062
497 Pages

“As I sped over the soft earth, the wind in my face, the colors crowding in around me, I felt fleeter and freer than I can ever remember. Such is the liberating quality of joy.”

You could read Waltzing Australia by Cynthia Clampitt and thoroughly enjoy a great travel book. This highly recommended journal is full of the history, the beauty and the mystery of Australia. In fact, if you suffer from occasional wanderlust, you should keep this book on your permanent library shelf so that you can escape into the various parts of Australia whenever you wish! I personally would visit Tasmania more often since Cynthia immediately captured me through the stories of her travels there.

But if I told you only about traveling through Australia, you would not be prepared and perhaps not realize until it is later in the book, that there is a very personal story being told. It’s about one of our present-day female role models we should share with our children. It’s about a gutsy woman who, while being in a successful corporate career realized that it was not what she wanted for her life. She wanted a writing career. Leaving the security of her corporate role, she first chose to fulfill a lifetime dream. She spent six months touring Australia!

There is little that Cynthia writes about herself, but when she does add those personal comments, such as the one quoted above, I urge you to stop and consider those words about your own life—Can we say that we experience “the liberating quality of joy”? Let your heart decide whether Cynthia has a special message for you that will run throughout this book... If so, then sit back and enjoy waltzing along with Cynthia as she tests her limits, especially physically, and in many other ways!

“My spirit seemed to vibrate...in sympathetic response to...innocence, the fierceness, the solitude...I studied them a while longer, smiled...”

This lengthy journey covers approximately 20,000 miles as Cynthia toured Australia. The book has been easily divided into parts of the country so that you can hone in on that section if you are fortunate to have a few weeks to travel to a specific spot. It is written in a travel diary format that provides broad strokes as well as daily activities of events. There will be information about the history of the location being traveled, notes on wildlife as well as the land and water displays. To give you a taste, I’ll share with you just some of the details that show the variety of information and that were especially interesting to me:

· Nearly everybody knows the old song about the Kookaburra. It is the largest member of the kingfisher family and is best known for its rollicking “laughter.”

· Wages were once paid in “rum.”

· “Beyond words” can only be used to describe the beauty of the rainforest.

· Everything, including cars, the weather, life...is referred to as “she.”

· The riverboat postman on Hawkesbury River carries not only mail, but food, medicine and even people!

· Captain Cook traveled along the coast naming bays, islands and landmarks. He “peacefully changed the map of the world more than any other single man....”

· Rub a large stone...in the fertility cave to become pregnant, according to Aboriginal legend!

· The Stirling Bells grow nowhere else in the world other than the Stirling Ranges; each of the seven varieties has its own mountain, growing nowhere else in the ranges!

· Tasmania’s Wallabies are only 2 to 3 feet and they grasp fingers to eat out of your hand.

· Wombats have short necks, making it impossible to look up, so they beg for food by trotting up and staring at your ankles.

· Tasmanian devils owe their names and reputations to the insanely wild screaming/choking/snarling/roaring sounds they make for normal conversation!

· Sydney’s opera house cost $102M, raised mostly through lotteries.

With that last I must stop. There seems to be one overlying theme about Australia that is readily apparent. People are happy, friendly and proud of their country. People open their homes to strangers. When a car or bus is broken down, everybody stops to help. I love the Australia that I read about in Waltzing Australia by Cynthia Clampitt. I was 18 when I, too, thought of traveling to that country. If I never get to, though, Cynthia has given me a taste of that “heaven” that I missed. Perhaps you, too, have a dream...

“I wondered again, as I have wondered before, why this place moves me so. I am drawn to the remoteness, to the vigor, the fierceness...and its spirit whispers to my spirit...”


G. A. Bixler

Vietnam: No Regrets - Personal Story!

Vietnam: No Regrets
One Soldier’s Tour of Duty
By J. Richard Watkins
Aventine Press
ISBN: 1593303033
193 Pages

Goo-oood Morning Vietnam! In an almost journalistic, diary style, J. Richard Watkins presents his own story in Vietnam: No Regrets – One Soldier’s Tour of Duty.

When a boy becomes a man in Vietnam, we cry with him. We feel his fear. We hear his prayers. And we rejoice when, after it is over, it is to his mother’s arms he first goes. For by now, his greatest fear is whether or not the unconditional love will still be there for him. Or will his parents be able to see right away how he has changed, what he has done? And will they turn away in disgust from this man that is still their son? As I read the Epilogue of the most comprehensive coverage I have thus far read from a soldier’s viewpoint, only then did my tears run. For after all that he’d been through, this soldier’s greatest fear was indeed whether he would or could go back within the warmth and comfort of his family and friends without their seeing, somehow, what he had done. There¾in the jungles of Vietnam and Cambodia.

For the majority of time, Watkins was a radio transmission operator whose duty was to communicate with the artillery batteries to call for artillery support when needed. That meant that he was always with the commander of the unit…and he was always right at the front! Watkins’ non-fiction narrative is packed with memories, fresh in his mind, though he left Vietnam in 1970. If I were reading it without knowing the date of its being published, I would have thought he was there, writing for a newspaper, or in a journal. His message is frank, open, and honest. His views are his own, but he’s willing to share them. These are the facts, as he knows them, and he’s willing to state them loudly and clearly!

For the average person back in the States, I never knew, for instance, that the Infantry was the man on the line. “The army’s rule of thumb was that out of every ten soldiers in-country, nine of the ten would be giving support to the ones that were actually in a real combat situation.” (p.69) What that means in actual numbers was that it was only about 40-50,000 men who actually fought on the front lines—it was “the Infantry and then there was everyone else.” Those are the men who trudged through the jungles hunting the enemy. They are the men who stood duty during the monsoon rains through which they could not see the man next to them. They were the men who risked their lives—the “same” men moving from place to place. Now there was a turnover within the Infantry. Most had tours of three months. Watkins, for an unknown reason, was there six months before he got his first R&R. He had gone over his immediate superior’s head to ensure he was able to leave.

It was not the first time I had learned that many men died in this war due to actions by their superiors. One of the most incredible stories shared by Watkins was when a new officer volunteered for them to immediately leave on a rescue mission to try to save a group of Green Berets, even though they had just returned from an extensive patrol. Once there and in the midst of battle, the reality of this officer’s decision became apparent even to him as they ran out of water, food and other necessities and he had to send for emergency support. The new officer had acted without regard to the safety and needs of his own men! And everybody knew it long before he did!

A major contribution toward the value of Vietnam: No Regrets is inclusion of pictures. Additionally, his almost-journalistic approach to reporting on the beauty of Vietnam from the air, as well as actually riding in the helicopters, and in his openness on sharing his times away from base—both in the jungles and out, make for a more informative reading. I think I enjoyed most his quick decision to “find” his way to see his best friend who was in the Marines and how he hopped rides to get there and back. I could almost envision the look of surprise, shock and pleasure when they stood looking at each other once Watkins had found him! Finally, his open inclusion of the heartache caused by a “Dear John” letter should make any woman who ever considered writing one to a serviceman immediately change her mind!

Watkins shares that he quickly learned “tomorrow was promised to no one.” (p. 79) He shares that when you are in the midst of battle, you want to be gone; but once you are out, you miss the adrenaline and want to be back. It works for the time period in which you do battle. But his greatest advice, received almost as soon as he was there, was to be sure to leave everything behind when he left. Watkins remembered that advice, and as his tour ended, he worked hard to ensure that he was able to do that!

Perhaps this book illustrates that those men will never be able to truly forget their time in Vietnam. Vietnam: No Regrets is graphic in its violence, the need to seek out and destroy the enemy while ensuring that their own men were not hurt. It includes mistakes made, but it includes prayers lifted up in both supplication and gratefulness. Watkins made it through Vietnam and has shared a major part of his life as a member of Alpha Company 1/27 Wolfhounds, Twenty-fifth Infantry Division. Thank you!

It seems to me that young men leaving for the service, going into war, would benefit from this book. But would it be preparation? According to Watkins, probably not, because what was experienced in battle must be experienced to understand it! Still, Watkins presents an effective balance in his book and, in my opinion, has presented a major contribution to the story of Vietnam. For those who are searching for answers about a war that many will not even talk about, this is a Must-Read.

G. A. Bixler
IP Book Reviewer