AS THE ICE STORM SWALLOWS THE SOUTH

Robyn Alana Engel
http://rawknrobyn.blogspot.com/

has written a post on my challenge with cancer.  It is fine, compassionate, and ends with a lovely poem.

The essence of the poem is that "love is worth the sad." 

Which oddly enough is the theme of my latest novel (which I will not hawk and cheapen Robyn's gracious post.)

This ice storm may sever my connection with the internet with falling power lines --

which is no matter since I probably will be slipping and sliding along rural roads delievering rare blood to rural hospitals.

Say a prayer for me -- driving in this kind of weather is more than a little frightening.  As Neil Gaiman says:

“I don't really like driving in the snow.

There's something about the motion of the falling snowflakes that hurts my eyes, throws my sense of balance all to hell.

It's like tumbling into a field of stars.”

This ice storm reminds me of the last in 1997. 

My mother had just died.  The owner of the Mall where I had my store would not let me close.  He told me it would be a fine of $500 an hour should I defy him.

Then, the ice storm hit.  The power went out.  Roads were closed. 

And I had my day of mourning in the cold and the dark -- which was appropriate to my mood.

Then, as now, friends rallied to my aid, helping in ways that humbled me as the Father showed me loving souls were His Hands here on Earth.

I have tried to re-pay those acts by being there for others -- which sometimes chaffs Sandra, my best friend (also fighting cancer), for she says continually emptying my bank account for others leaves me vulnerable.

But aren't we all vulnerable?  Sometimes in ways of which we are blind.

Again, Neil Gaiman has a fitting quote:

“There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.” 

But he also wrote:

“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” 

Which is why I fling my stories into the cold void of cyber-space.  Few read them. 

But it is my hope that my tales of Hibbs, the bear with two shadows,

and Samuel McCord who refuses to give up his love for She Who Devours --

may touch a hurting heart and spark an ember of hope to give a bruised soul light and strength enough for the next step into the darkness.

Thank you, my friends.