is the premier edition of the I DEAL IN HOPE newsletter. As I do with the
AUTHOR'S CHOICE REVIEW newsletter, this will be updated the first of each
month. Links will tie it back to the I DEAL IN HOPE web site.
is also my first crack at doing a cyber serial. Synopsis: Waking up in
the hospital, she has no idea where she is, why she's there, what's
happened...or who she is. Who is the gorgeous man who claims to be her husband?
And, who is the intruder?
Begin reading this new mystery in this issue.
you like what you see here, please let me know.
Looking for encouragement and
inspiration? Look no further than time with one who has known, first hand,
God's amazing grace. Using her own experiences as well as knowledge gained
through a lifetime of growing through adventure and adversity, Scheidies bonds
with the audience showing them how they, too, despite everything, can embrace
life through hope.
TOPICS from NEW BOOK HELP!
I'M A NEW MOTHER -
The Birth of a Book--as Well as A Baby (How and why the
book came into existence.)
Help! I'm A Nervous Wreck! (Dealing with insecurity,
fear, frustration and anger)
God! I Need to Talk to You (Finding time for faith.)
Mentoring New Moms
ALL topics include practical advice and helps.
Title: Preserving and Passing
on Your Story. How to pass on family history.
brochure with all topics available as a free download at the web site.
my book HELP! I'M A NEW MOTHER has been released in September,
I've been busy with speaking engagements and signings. Not all go as planned. My
sister Karin came for the signing at the Kearney Hastings Entertainment.
Assist. Prof. Laura Sherwood also attended. Both were contributors to the book.
We had a good time together, talked to several customers, got interviewed by
both the UNK print and TV media, but sold very little. (Good media coverage
contributor, JoAnn Wagner, planned to attend, but
arrived after we were gone. She said she was having one of those days where
everything goes wrong. The trip wasn't a complete failure for her though. She
did get to spend time with her daughter and grandchildren in a town near Kearney.
signing that came up quickly didn't fare much better. I ended up with a corner
of a display table rather out of the way and with no sign to announce the
signing. (From now on I'll bring my own.) A store clerk, having no idea what I
was doing, even asked me if I was finding what I was looking for. I did enjoy
the friends, dropping by for the sale, who stopped to talk. I also found a book
to read and one customer decided she'd buy the book for her husband for
Christmas. Didn't sell my book, but that's the way it goes.
spoke to the local Christian Women's Club on Preserving and Passing on Your
Story, something very dear to my heart. Please leave the legacy of your
story, your faith, in print for future generations. We lose so much when we lose
the story of a family member.
It hurt to
move. No, it was worse than that. Groaning, she tried to lift her arm. It felt
like a ten-ton weight and weakly dropped back beside her. Again she tried as
something slipped over her right eye. Ever so slowly, she inched her fingers up
her arm to her shoulder, her face to the thick covering over her eyes. A bandage?
fingers ached, but she managed to push the offending covering from her eyes
before her arm muscles refused to do her bidding further. Her arm plopped back
onto the bed, rather like, she thought, a dead fish. The thought made her want
to giggle. Strange, she felt light headed, dizzy, spacey
even.... the way she imagined it felt to be on drugs.
She didn't do drugs. Somehow she knew that. Groaning again, she opened her
eyes, wincing at the pain inside her head. It felt like a hundred elephants
tramped through her head. No, make that a thousand or so, she thought.
she? Slowly, the young woman surveyed her surroundings, her eyes widening at
the sterile beige walls, the soft light from a fixture over her bed, the
movable stand beside the bed with a glass and a pitcher, tissue and a
it. This was a hospital. It had all the signs, the bed with white sheets and
blankets tucked in precisely so, beeping machines hooked up beside her, and to
her, the murmur of voices, and the clank of metal on metal on the other side of
the half closed door she supposed led to a hallway, other rooms, other
patients, other beds.
Bed? The metal contraption brought back
memories of a stay when she was ten for an emergency appendectomy. She wasn't
ten. Of that she was certain as she glanced down her front where the covers
arched over a nicely rounded slender body. Definitely NOT
ten, not any more. Strange, she didn't recall growing up. She tried to
concentrate, tried to think, tried to remember. Remember? No use. She couldn't
remember how she got to the hospital.
she didnt recall much of anything, Her brow wrinkled
as she struggled to recall the slightest detail. The whole thing seemed
somewhat surrealistic... like a dream... a nightmare come to life.
would be nice, she muttered to herself. A name.... any name! Lets see, Ann,
Amity, Barb, Betty.... Cynthia, Daryl.... Thats a guy's name. Why did that pop
into my mind? Frowning, she listed all the names she could think of all the
way down the alphabet. Sally, Sofia, Sara, Sandy.... Terri, Tamara... Zooti.
Now she was getting ridiculous.
bothered her that the only name that even rang a faint bell was Daryl. She
tried it out in a deep voice. Daryl. Then higher, Daryl: She giggled
hysterically. It didn't fit, didn't fit at all.
her, machines beeped.
three, four, she giggled, what am I in here for?
she spoke, a rather stout man in a long white coat pushed open the door to the
small room and marched to the bed. The hair on his head had been combed from
one side to the other in a vain attempt to hide the baldpate. The long hair
hung down over his eyes as he leaned down with his stethoscope.
Jackson, he told her in a distinctly
Canadian accent, checking her out with a quiet efficiency that belied his
appearance. He asked all the usual questions: How do you feel? Can you move your
arms and legs? Can you feel, did this or that hurt?
it hurts! Was the man an idiot? Of course not, just a doctor, a doctor with
sadistic tendencies, she groused to herself as he probed the wound on her head.
She jerked away, and then yelped as pain shot up her arm. After a moment, she
asked, Doctor Jackson, what happened to me? Why am I here? Where am I?
stopped him. Silently he re-wrapped her head as though studying his answer.
Doc. out with it. Where am I and what happened to me?
Ontario, Canada, just across the border. You were
in an accident. His eyes narrowed with concern. Don't you remember?
her head, then groaned as the elephants thundered
again. This time she made sure not to move her head as she looked at him. I
don't remember anything. So what happened to me? Why am I here? Actually, just
WHO am I?
moment, a tall, broad shouldered gorgeous man she guessed to be in his late
twenties entered the room without knocking. Not that she cared. Her eyes
widened as the magnificent specimen of manhood strode toward the bed. If the
hospital supplied medics like this, she'd be in no hurry to leave. Then again,
he didn't wear a white uniform.
brown eyes surveyed her with a concern that seared every place his glance
landed from her face all the way to her toes. If the dark eyed stranger didn't
avert his gaze, she'd positively go up in flames.
doesn't remember who she is, the doctor told him, his glance a warning she
Umm. The dark eyed stranger studied her
a long moment before running the back of his hand down her soft cheek. So you
don't remember me. Something about his tone started a bell of caution ringing
in her mind, a faint memory she could not quite connect, a caution she had no
trouble pushing away when he smiled that lopsided, slightly mocking smile that
turned her insides to mush.
to run her fingers through his thick dark locks that curled appealingly over the
collar of his open-necked, rumpled shirt. Rumpled. She
glanced down his length taking in his broad chest and well-muscled legs beneath
his equally rumpled slacks. They looked liked he'd spent the night in them.
Surely.... the thought made her breath catch in her chest. Could it be this
handsome man was with her?
her, not the awkward gawky girl of twelve who tripped over her own feet. Not
the girl who was teased by her classmates. Concentrating, she tried to bring up
something more, but it seemed like an eraser swiped away any further memories.
Drat! Double drat!
could she forget him, not in a trillion years. Yet....
She grimaced. To her surprise, the young man gripped her hand. His husky voice
flowed over her like a balm. Darling, how do you feel? Not waiting for her
shock over his endearment to fade, he continued. I'm so sorry. If something
happened to you.... The words trailed off leaving her more confused than ever.
this man? Why couldn't she remember? One way or another, she was going to find
to any of the updates, same subject line except include Unsubscribe instead of
Thanksgiving is a time to think about the good things, the
blessings of the past year. Even in the worst of times, there is hope. Make a
list of your blessings, thank God for your blessings, and keep the list handy for those times
that overwhelm and drag you down.