I knew I’d write a book as soon as my son died. It didn’t come to me, an idea in the night. It was something I just knew. And I knew it would be a book of hope. In the years prior to his death, I had discovered hope in the way a drowning person discovers a life raft, and I wasn’t prepared to leg go of it now. For the first two years of writing, I had no idea how I’d make the book hopeful, but I always knew I would . I was committed to writing my way, word by word, from tragedy to hope so I could share that
There were times I almost gave up, and I did pack it in a few times, twice with some sincerity. I had absolutely no understanding of what a long, difficult, heart-rending, frustrating, humility-building, fulfilling, life-changing, love-filled process it would be…
“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!” they said.