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The Other Side of Heaven 10/21/2016 5:16:34 AM
I am often asked by potential authors how long it takes to write a book. The answer is: "I don't know." Some monumental works can take years to write. Some historical novels where research is involved will also take years. Fiction novels can be batted out in a month or two depending on how hard you work. I have an acquaintance who operates on the theory that the more books you write, the more money you earn. If you stop by his booth, you will be there for hours or until you purchase at least one book. People buy his books because they are pressured. I want people to buy my books because they are good books with a message.
I do not know how many authors can say they wrote a book that saved the life of a friend. Can you imagine how it feels to have done something like that?
The Other Side of Heaven is a true to life novel on how I actually stopped living and saw that part of Heaven where my relatives resided. But it is more than just being touched by the hand of God. I recount the times in my life when I thought coincidence or luck had played a role only to discover that God was behind every thing that happened. Right now, I wish He would answer my prayer to sell more books. We have been struggling but holding on since my major heart attack and some orders have come in. I am hoping I am a good enough writer to interest others receiving and liking this blog to sell other books. That in in the hands of God.
I did not intend writing The Other Side of Heaven. I already had a book ready to go to print. But one night I awoke and something told me to go to the computer. The next thing I knew I was writing another book with no idea of where it was going. As I wrote, I thought of the miracle of my survival. Virginia recounted the things I did not know because I really was in another world the whole time. I would awaken and then pass out again. Doctors would talk to me and tell me how serious the ailment was. That part of my heart that normally functions at fifty percent was functioning at twenty percent. (It has now improved to thirty-five per cent though the doctor said the heart damage can never be repaired.) I was, if I survived, told I would be able to move from chair to chair, with oxygen, and no further. No steps. No inclines. Just an invalid confined to small amounts of movement. I would not even be able to sleep in bed. I had to sleep sitting up. Sometimes I think God does these little miracles just to show the medical field it does not have all the answers.
The first follow up treatment I had with the cardiologist, he asked if I had been active.
"I don't know what you mean by 'active'", I answered. "I rolled my mower over on me and had to walk back to the house. Then I landed on some ground wasps and got stung thirteen times. I helped my wife lift fifty pound bags of horse feed."
he just smiled and shook his head and said: "Miraculous." Every time I go he says: "Amazing recovery."
I just think its' an amazing miracle. One of those things God does to show his love and generosity.
We had a woman in our church named Maria. She was Philippino and very saintly. I recall Maria who rubbed my arthritic hands so they would not hurt, and I recall the woman who contract ovarian cancer but would not seek medical aid because she did not have the money for treatment. When I look at some of the medical bills I racked up in the hospital, it is no wonder people cannot afford medical care. But socialized medicine is not the answer. I had a friend in Nova Scotia who was like a mother to me. She had been a young girl when the Germans marched into Belgium and she had helped her mother cut and perm the hair of German officers. She had heard of so many rapes in her country she would not go into her own basement without someone with her. And she could make a blueberry pie so sweet you itch for days.
Yvonne contracted heart disease and required a pacemaker. A year or so later the unit malfunctioned, and she needed treatment so she went onto a list that was six months long because she could get a replacement. Yvonne died before the replacement could be done so do not talk to me about Hillary Clinton's socialized medicine. Yvonne was just fifty.
Already the medical school enrollment is down substantially. Notice how we are getting more foreign doctors? Not that it's a bad thing but think about it: Our own Americans are getting too smart to become doctors and surgeons. What happens when the supply dries up?
I always wanted to be an author and several of our books have been awarded citations, not to mention that right now all of them are profitable.
So while I am at it, let me thank all of you who have purchased books and supported me in my new career. We appreciate your support and hope you will stand with us as we role along.
