I’m excited for so many people to read my novel. My parents, my brothers, in-laws, other kin from nieces and nephews to aunts and uncles and all the cousins in between. Friends who come in the guise of co-workers, my church family, neighbors, and others. Such a long list.
But there’s another list. It’s a growing list of those who I WISH could ready my novel. Grandma Burla, Aunt Bess, Great-Grandma Jane, Grandma and Grandpa Cox, Aunt Dorothy & Uncle Willis, Smutt & Anna. But they’re all gone. They’re all, in one way or another, IN my novel, but having passed on will never get to READ my novel.
And now I have to add Agnes to the list. She died yesterday. She’d been in Hospice, but there’s always hope that somehow this might not be the end. She was 92 and I told her I’d written a book, but I’m not sure she really understood (her hearing was not good). I imagined how there would be a large print version and I would take it to her, lay it on the coffee table, and tell her it was for her (she LOVED presents). And maybe she’d read it or maybe not, but she’d hug me tight and tell me it was wonderful.
But not now.
And that’s okay.
In my books I aim to capture just a little bit of what God is and tell people about it. To show how life is miraculous and there’s beauty in just about everything so long as you look through God’s lens. Even dying. But I’m sure I fail more often than not. And Agnes, along with all those others who were so dear to me, don’t need a book that tries to offer some tiny glimpse of God. They’re in his very presence.
Agnes would have liked my book and knowing that her friend was an author. But she liked The Good Book better, and now she’s with the Author of everything. And you can’t beat that.
I’ll be seeing you, Agnes. Love, Sarah