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I tried to write the story of the loss of my last baby right after it happened. So many miraculous events seemed to culminate to help me heal from the loss and see the beauty of the gift of forever families, that I felt I should record it. Still, everytime I sat down to write, I found myself sobbing and at last walked away with only a portion done.
For the next four years I didn't consider picking up the twenty or so pages I had written and worked on other projects. When I finished my last Visiting Teaching adventure, I began debating my next project. I had pretty much decided that it was time to face Wicked King Herod- an epic that has been slowly baking in the back of my brain for the last few years, but before I made the final decision, I prayed.
Rarely do my prayers get answered as clearly as the feeling that it was time to finish Thomas's story. So I sat down the first week in January and began to type. Three weeks later I penned or "computered" the last few words and knew it was finished.
After reading the first draft my husband said, "Christine, it sounds like you made this up, but you didn't. I lived through it with you." (More to come...)
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