Someone Left The Cake Out In The Rain.

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One of the great things about working nights is that I’m usually one of three people in the Cub Foods near my house. This morning was no exception.

At a dark and dreary hour in the misty rain I got to the store and had unimpeded access to the aisles. I wandered around, very much a happy idiot, as I gathered the ingredients to bake a cake. The old Donna Summer tune, Mac Arthur Park, played in my mind as I left the store.

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As I left the store I did my usual paranoid thing: I checked all the shadows. Bunches of habits from my previous life have never left me, and it’s rare that I don’t do a sweep before venturing into the dark. Off to my right I detected a shadowy figure down low. I gave a closer look and it was a man in a wheelchair. 46 degrees, light rain, O’darkthirty in the morning and he’s just trying to keep a little dry.

If he was a hustler he’d call out and ask for something. But he just sits there focused on the ground in front of him. Darned interesting sidewalk. No petition for succor, no greeting. Just a soul at the end of the road in every respect I could detect.

I took my groceries to my car (big armloads, too hard to rejuggle if I set them down) and grabbed one of my envelopes. I keep a couple of these envelopes in my car year round. It’s part of my pledge last year to do a good deed once a week. Each card has a Santa Card that I posed for some years ago, ho_ho_hope_greeting_cards_pk_of_20a message of hope and love, and a McDonald’s gift card that will get you a hot meal and some time to enjoy an unanticipated gift. Nothing big, but I love giving them out to the folks who are dying by inches on the streets. Perhaps that message lifts them just far enough to make it back to where they want to be in life.

I walked back to the store and said, “I hope this brightens your day a bit, Brother. God Bless.” He looked surprised and reached for the card with his left hand. His right arm was just a stump inside a worn and dirty sweat shirt. His eyes were dead but he did say thank you.

I went back to the car and pulled out of my spot. His wheel chair was hidden behind a post, most likely to avoid having to deal with the police for loitering. As I started to drive by he shouted thanks. And then a minor miracle took place: his smile lit my world from end to end. He had the most beautiful look on his face. Someone had taken a minute to do something for him beyond treating him with contempt or disdain. I pulled the car over, hit the flashers and went around to the back hatch.

In Minnesota you keep certain supplies with you for the winter. Since it never ends around here I keep spare clothes in the back of my Explorer all the time. I reached in the back and got out one of my spare hoodies. I got two of the exact same one for gifts about five years ago and keep the nice one in the car for emergencies. This qualified.

I approached his chair and he thanked me again. I said, “You look cold. This might help. Can I drape it over your shoulders?” He was frail. Somewhere between 20 and sixty, yeah, that kind of look. He agreed. I gently put the garment over his shoulders and said, “Can I pray for you?” He hung his head and said, “Yes.”

And in that moment, in a parking lot just out of the rain underneath the grocery store sign, the two of us spent an eternal moment. The moment that Christ calls for in the Gospels when he says in Matthew 25: 31-46 that he expects us to take care of our brothers and sisters. Please go read the citation at the link, it’s important.

I quietly prayed over this man and placed my hands gently on his shoulders. I asked the God who has given me so much to take care of this brother in his hour of need. And I told him that I loved him and he wasn’t alone in this world.

I got back in my warm car and drove off while he sheltered out of the rain. Like the cake in Mac Arthur park he would have melted in the rain. Perhaps my moment’s respite kept the sweet green icing from flowing down.

I’m not anything here but obedient. I stepped out of the normal comfort zone of most people and did my best to live the life of a follower of Christ this morning. I’m a failure most days, most hours, most minutes. But I do try to follow Him.

This morning I’m asking you to do the same. It’s not the dollar amount, it’s not the garment, it’s the show of love and kindness that all of us need. I feel loved right now. His smile will stay with me for a long time.

Can you reach out today? Can you follow Christ’s example in some simple way?

Here’s the video. I hope you have a blessed day.

Proposal’s May Just Kill Me.

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No, not wedding proposals. I’ve made exactly one of those and it’s worked out well for 28 years. One of our best anniversaries was in Haiti.

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Today I’m talking about the kind of proposal that a writer has to do if they wish to sell their book.

I have been blessed with two really great editors that have worked on my book for me. No matter how hard you work on self-editing, it’s still likely to be a stinking mess when you are a new writer. Only after my a lot of editing and beatings *(my agent throws a vicious punch – but I needed it)* was I really close to the point where the book could be sold. Agents/editors have an insight into the whole process that I currently lack. I’ve talked to more than one author who now largely self-edits, but I think that’s about book #3 for most people before they can do a creditable job. I am much better editing other people’s books. The reason is simple: my brain is seeing it the first time. I’m not filling in blanks and eliminating the dreck that I stuck on the page without fixing it in writing.

You might think that once the book is really good that you’re done. Nah. Now you get to do a proposal.

One of my best friends, Larry W. Timm, recently embarked on this journey. He had to swear off bacon to get the task done. I was blessed to have help from my editors. Both of them worked on my proposal and added a huge amount of content and polish to the beastie. It’s almost ready.

But now it’s in my hands again. And I’m slowly dying. I’ve put in 4 hours on it so far today. A really good proposal is a synopsis of the book, a list of characters, a description of who might buy it, why someone should pick this rather than another author’s work, how you plan on marketing it, who is your current audience (which reminds me, please go like the Facebook page on the right – that’s part of the plan,) what books are comparable, a biography, why your book is better than the comparable books, endorsements from subject matter experts, endorsements from other writers, a picture of your face (mugshot submissions not appropriate,) and a great tag-line.

I’m dying on the comparable books. I’m really not ready to say, “Alton Gansky’s book was nice, but my book is better because…” or, “Raymond Chandler’s book was an exceptional experience but I can do better marketing because I’m still alive.” (Besides, I’m kind of hoping Alton will write a forward or something and I don’t want to cheese him off.)

It’ll come to me. I’m sure that time will fix the issues. Part of it is a simple need to go back and look at some of the stuff I’ve read and then do the comparison. For some reason I’m not enthusiastic about the reception I’d get with the Christian publishers if I said, “Lee Child is the master of this sort of story, but my hero is far more violent and bloody minded than Jack Reacher ever dreamed of being in his entire life.”

I’m pretty sure that still needs refining.

Please Pray For Santa.

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Not me. I’m doing remarkably well in spite of a bad migraine the last two days. Nope, I need you to pray for Mr. & Mrs. Claus.

Honored to wear the Red Suit.

Honored to wear the Red Suit.

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Before you write this off as a joke, I need to assure you that it’s a legitimate prayer request. God knows exactly for whom we pray even if we don’t. What I mean to say is that God knows your intentions. Today, more than ever before in my life as a born-again Christian, I am asking for some prayers to go up. The short list follows:

For my brother Santa Claus and sister Mrs. Claus types. So many of them are in their upper years and suffer from a variety of ailments. Several of my friends in this venture are undergoing heart surgery or cancer treatment this month. I’m one of the youngest guys in a red suit at my level. I’m blessed to have started young (as many of my brothers did) and will have that health benefit going down the road. So please stop and pray for the whole bunch as a group. God will direct your efforts accordingly.

For my friend Steve. I wrote a lot about him this past winter when he was hospitalized. He’s doing relatively well now, amputation in his past and an artificial limb becoming more of a natural thing all the time. But there’s still some physical issues there and he would greatly benefit from all of you prayer warriors kicking it in gear again for him.

For the veterans of our nation. I belong to several on-line forums and the cries of despair and pain from my brothers and sisters seem to be rising of late. The anguish of Post Traumatic Stress and the sense of loss that many of us suffer from leaves them lonely, frightened, impoverished, and in need of prayer. Take a bit of time to kneel down and lift them up. They picked up a weapon and pledged their life to protect you, please reciprocate with a few minutes of time talking to God on their behalf.

For the addicted. Even when those with an addiction are sober, it’s a challenge at times to make it just one more day. Your prayers, encouragement, and love may make that difference for an addict in your life. To the addicts in my life: I want you to know that I pray for you regularly and I am there at the other end of the phone when you need me.

Finally, please lift up a prayer for the writers of Christian fiction. It’s not a big group, but if they are properly led by God, inspired in their choice of words, and fruitful in their labors, they can help lift others from their troubles.

Thanks. I knew I could count on this audience.

Sponsorship Sunday – A Request.

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Greetings. Each Sunday for the past several months I’ve been asking for support of the orphans at Grace Village. Healing Haiti is the organization that runs the orphanage and I’ve been there on a mission trip. I’m going again this winter.

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A reader had a valid point last week – what do we, the readers, know about this group and why should we trust them?

Excellent point. I am not an official representative of Healing Haiti. In full disclosure, I have met some of the leaders, broken bread with them, travelled to Haiti with them, and supported the organization financially and by means of using this blog as a sounding post. I don’t get anything from it except the satisfaction of knowing those children gain.

Today, just for a change, I am encouraging you to visit their website. Read about what they do and how they spend their money (An audited 2012 report is coming in the near future.) Don’t take my word for the good works – inspect, check, verify. I’m that confident of their good nature.

Next week we will resume the usual posts. Today, go look for yourself and see how a charity should be run.

Comfortable In Her Skin.

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By far the most popular topic on this blog is my Sheltie, Stormy. For those of you unfamiliar with the girl, she’s a rescue dog who joined our family 10 months ago.

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Stormy’s journey with us has not been an easy one. But in the months she’s been here her healing has been amazing. She’s gone from a frightened creature who avoided us unless we had a snack to a dog who’s pretty comfortable in her new home. The last few weeks have been wonderful. I’ve seen more unabashed joy and love in her behavior than I ever imagined when I first met the girl.

Stormy's Kingdom - The Bed.

Stormy’s Kingdom – The Bed.

I cannot tell you all of it, much of it is just a feeling you get when you look into the eyes of a dog. You know a lot about their wellness based on that look. Sometimes you see pain, sometimes joy. Lately it’s been joy. Joy and acceptance of the world around her.

I was working on the computer the other morning at 0300 (my day off – still a vampire) and I couldn’t find her in any of her usual spots. I went into the living room and found her sacked out on the couch. When I sat down next to her she didn’t leap off like she would have a short time ago. Instead, and to my immense satisfaction, she just gave me a glance, let out a deep sigh, and went back to snoozing. I was no longer a threat.

She’s doing another thing that’s cute but I may have to put a foot down to avoid conflict. She hides on my bed. While I’m in the bed. My wife comes to get her to put her outside before bedtime, and if I’m already asleep Stormy leaps up, snuggles in next to me, and refuses to acknowledge my wife’s summons. The wife or the dog… the wife. But it is nice to know that Stormy views my side as her safe haven.

She still nibbles, still flinches on occasion, and still lays down with her back to us on the rug. She’s a dog of solitude in many ways. But she’s also the imp on the bed. And a joy in my heart.