Patrick E. Craig's Blog, page 6
September 1, 2013
August 31, 2013
August 19, 2013
Foundations: From “The Road Home” – Apple Creek Dreams
Jerusha thought about the dreams and nightmares that had plagued Jenny all her life. Often in the early days, when Jerusha had awakened to the sound of her adopted daughter screaming in the night, she had been very concerned. But Jenny had been so volatile as a child that as the years passed, Jerusha had come to discount the dreams as just a part of her daughter’s temperament. Now she saw that the dreams were born of some terrible event, something that had torn Jenny inside.
…Like the torn batting in the quilt …
Jerusha examined the quilt again. She noticed all the colored pieces that were either torn or missing and she was glad that she had saved the original silk material. The quilt had hardly been used so there were no worn places, but the seam where she had torn open the corner was frayed and the cream-colored cotton backing had also frayed where she pulled the seam apart. She examined the stitching. As a child, her tiny, even stitch had amazed her grandmother. Most quilters would finish a quilt and use around seventy thousand stitches. Jerusha had used over ninety thousand in her first complete quilt when she was eleven years old. She remembered her grandmother’s words as she looked over the work.
“Ja, your stitch is so small and even,” said her grandmother. “It is as though you have been quilting all your life.”
As she planned the repair work, her thoughts flew back to the wonderful days when she had learned the art of quilting from her grandmother. Those had been the happiest days of her childhood and she could hear Grossmudder Hannah’s voice speaking gently to her as she helped Hannah cut the pieces for a star quilt, the first Jerusha had been allowed to work on. She remembered watching as her grandmother cut the chosen pieces of fabric into perfectly matching parts.
“If the quilt is going to be even and symmetrical, the pieces must be true,” she said.
She let Jerusha try her hand, and even on her first try Jerusha cut the pieces straight and perfect.
“ Ja, das is gutte,” Grandmother said. “You will be a fine quilt maker, my girl.”
Once the pieces were cut correctly, Gossmudder had pieced them together with pinpoint accuracy.
“If the quilt is not aligned properly, even in just one small part, the whole thing will look off-balance and might pucker,” she told Jerusha. “If the design is to be even and pleasing to the eye, each individual piece of fabric must be stitched together just right, in order for it to fit together properly. You must trust your own eye and sewing skills for measurement and accuracy. It is a gift not every quilter has and it is from Der Schöpfer-Gott, the Creator.”
As the memories flooded over her, Jerusha began to see something that she had never seen before. For her, the completed quilt had always been the purpose for her life, and the process of making the quilt had only been a means to an end. Now she began to see that the process was everything, and the finished quilt was only the revealing of the work that had been put into the quilt. That understanding was like a light turning on in her heart.
“You are the Master Creator, Lord, and you put each life together the same way my grandmother made a quilt. You cut each piece that fits into the fabric of our lives and you stitch them together perfectly. You always have a plan for each of us. And you planned each part of our lives to fit together perfectly.”
Jerusha began to see the correlation. Each piece of a life had to be laid in perfectly and if the pieces were uneven or not stitched together properly, the result would not fulfill the Creator’s purpose for that life.
Jerusha remembered something Reuben had taught her. They had visited a neighbor’s farm one day and watched as the men helped their neighbor tear down the framing of what was to be a new barn and start over.
“Why are they tearing the barn down?” she had asked Reuben.
“Brother King made a mistake when he laid the foundation,” Reuben said. “It was not level and true. It was pointed out to him when the first wall went up and the men had a great deal of difficulty plumbing it up. You see Jerusha, when a foundation is not laid properly and you build on it, everything in nature, even gravity itself, conspires to drag that wall down. But if the foundation is true, then when you build on it, gravity pulls the wall straight down onto the foundation and it will stand for years, supporting itself.”
She had wondered about Reuben’s words that day, not really understanding, but now as she looked at the quilt, they became clear to her. Everything in Jenny’s life had been built on a poor foundation and so even nature had worked against her, robbing her of peace and joy and leaving her with a sense of incompleteness.
That is what happened to Jenny. The foundation of her life was not laid in straight and true and she has been struggling to build on that poor foundation.
From “The Road Home” by Patrick E. Craig – Coming September 1, 2013
August 11, 2013
The Visit: Excerpt from “The Road Home” by Patrick E. Craig
It was late in the afternoon. Bobby had called and asked everyone to meet him in the restaurant at the motel where they were staying in downtown Ossining. He promised that he had some exciting news. Jenny, Reuben and Jonathan were waiting in a back booth when Bobby arrived. Jonathan was sitting next to Reuben and Jenny sat across from them by herself. Bobby walked over to the table and sat down next to Jenny. A skinny, teenage waitress who was cracking a wad of gum in her cheek came over and asked if he wanted coffee. He nodded and she left to get him a cup, giving them a strange look as she went. Bobby smiled. It wasn’t often that you found a sheriff, an Amish man, a short-haired Amish girl, and a hippie all seated at the same table. Jenny looked at Bobby expectantly.
“The man in the car was definitely Joseph K. Bender,” Bobby said. “He was Sammy Bender’s brother. They grew up in Patterson, New Jersey, and started getting into trouble when they were teenagers. Sammy knew about the tattoo on Joe’s shoulder and confirmed that the number was a service number. It seems that when the war came, they both enlisted and got a tattoo. Joe got picked for officer training so he added his service number under the Statue of Liberty.”
“But the report said he got a dishonorable discharge,” Jenny said. “What about that?”
“From what Sammy said, Joe did pretty well during his first year as an officer. He was trained to be a pharmacist mate, which is like a Petty Officer. He was assigned to a battleship in the Pacific. I guess he got wounded in one of the battles. It wasn’t bad enough to get him discharged, but he did need pain pills while he recovered. Sammy says he got hooked on the medication and reverted to his old ways. He got caught stealing narcotics from the infirmary and they drummed him out of the service. He ended up in New York and graduated from pain pills to morphine and then to heroin. Sammy got tossed out of the service for slugging a superior officer and he hooked up with Joe. Their life of crime went from there and ended up with the bank robbery.”
Jenny felt sadness growing in her heart. So her father was a dope addict. The thought of that was so foreign to her, but she tried to understand it anyway. Bobby saw the look on her face. He took her hand.
“Jenny, I’ve got some news for you.”
Jenny looked up. She felt the possibilities for her life getting smaller and smaller. What could Uncle Bobby say that could possibly help?”
“Joe Bender was not your father.”
Jenny looked at Bobby with a blank stare.
“Not my father?” she asked incredulously.
“No, he was not your father.”
Jenny felt a darkness beginning to lift from her spirit.
“Not my father,” she said softly.
Jenny looked at Reuben. He was so strong and handsome. He had always been there for her. He had protected her all her life, cared and provided for her, carried her when she had fallen, encouraged her when she failed, and…and loved her. What had she been thinking? Tears began to stream down her face. She saw her papa’s jaw working as he tried to keep his emotions from showing. Jonathan stared at both of them. Jenny got up slowly and went around the table. She stood in front of Reuben and picked up one of his big, strong hands. She put it next to her cheek and felt his calloused palm against her face. Then she kissed his hand and looked into his eyes.
“Of course he’s not my father,” she said to Reuben, “because you are.”
Reuben’s arms came around Jenny and he pulled her close.
“Jenny, Jenny, my Dochter, my precious girl,” he said softly.
Jonathan and Bobby looked at each other and then turned away so they would not show each other the tears in their eyes.
From The Road Home by Patrick E. Craig – Coming September 1, 2013
August 6, 2013
A Gettysburg Vignette: Chapter One Excerpt – by Patrick E. Craig
Vignette: a brief incident or scene as in a play or a book…
This is a short, romanticized version of the story of John Wesley Culp, Jack Skelly and Ginnie Wade. Though they are historical figures and there are many facts and also many legends surrounding their lives, the thread of this story sprang from my own imagination. What we do know is that at the battle of Winchester, Jack Skelly, a wounded Union Soldier, wrote a letter to his betrothed, Ginnie Wade, who lived in Gettysburg. He gave the letter to their childhood friend, Wesley Culp, who was fighting for the South, and asked him to deliver it to Ginnie. The contents of the letter and what happened to it are subject to much speculation and so I have joined in. My part in that speculation created an imaginary diary written by Ginnie Wade that I have used to tie this story together. As far as I know, the diary never existed except on these pages. It is my hope that my theories concerning this event will, as you read A Gettysburg Vignette, be at least entertaining and hopefully thought-provoking. Enjoy!
Patrick E. Craig
Part One
The Letter – 1863
June 15
I have spent this day with the terrible feeling I will never see Jack again. It has haunted me all my waking hours. The commonplace doings of life in Gettysburg have faded into the fabric of this fear that clutches at my heart. It is my understanding that our boys are in Virginia somewhere fighting Robert E. Lee. I have, up to this point, not feared for Jack, as I know him to be a good and capable soldier who is dedicated to the Union cause. But this morning, when I awoke, there was a certainty that something terrible has happened or is about to happen to my beloved, and I cannot free myself from it. I pray that this dread is my own imagination, and not some divine instillation from above. Oh, Jack, may the sheltering hand of Providence be with you.
Diary of Ginnie Wade
Chapter One
Winchester
June 12, 1863
The sun was a caldron in an otherwise empty sky. The blazing heat beat down on the dusty road. The soldiers in gray were slowly moving into columns. It was the middle of June and Richard Ewell’s Second Corps was headed toward Winchester. All of the top commanders –Rodes, Ewell, Early, Johnson, and the old man himself, Robert E. Lee – had met together the night before, and now the Army of Northern Virginia was on the move again. Wesley Culp stuffed the last of his things into his pack, tied it up, and left the field where his Company was bivouacked. All around him the Rebel Army was moving onto the road that led north up the Shenandoah Valley. They had been moving north for days and they were tired, but the men of this Army didn’t care. They had been beating the pants off the Federals for months and they were in high spirits. Now the rumors were flying. Wesley’s tent-mate, Jed Culpeper smiled as he fell into step beside Wes.
“We’re headed to Pennsylvania for sure, Wes. Lee is going to take this war to old Abe and we’re going to end it once and for all.”
Wesley, felt a sharp pang of regret at the words. Pennsylvania was his home state and most of his family was fighting for the North. Jed kept on.
“Ain’t yer brother fighting for the Yanks?”
“When the war broke out, my brother, William and my cousin, David, joined Company F, 87th Pennsylvania. My best friend, Jack Skelly, joined up with them.”
“How come you didn’t go back to Pennsylvania and fight with them?” Jed asked.
“When I moved to Virginia, I was only fifteen. I made new friends and when they all joined the local militia, the Hamtramck Guards, I joined too. At first it was just a social club, but when the war started, we all joined up. I thought the fight would be over in a couple of weeks, but I was wrong.”
Jed looked over at Wes.
“The word is that the 87th is up at Winchester.”
Wesley shook his head.
“Well, Jed, I sure don’t want to run up agin’ Willie and David in Winchester. It would be a shame to have to shoot at ‘em.”
“Well, if you do see ‘em in battle, you’ll shoot, won’t you Wes?”
“I reckon I’ll have to, Jed.”
Wesley got a look on his face that said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so Jed shut up. The two men marched along in silence. All around them the grey army moved inexorably like a flood – pouring out of the South in what they hoped would be the campaign that would force the Federals to take their hands off and leave them alone.
The 2nd Virginia had just come from some of the worst fighting of the war at Chancellorsville where they had crushed Hooker’s army and pushed it north. Now the Southern troops were invading the North, forcing the Army of the Potomac to leave Washington D.C. and confront them. Everyone knew that a big fight was coming and the Army of Northern Virginia was ready.
Jed pulled a chunk of chaw out of his pocket, offered some to Wes, and when Wes shook his head no, bit off a big piece. In a few minutes he looked like a cow chewing its cud. He spit and then started talking again.
“I hear that Billy Yank has re-built those forts up there at Winchester. Old Milroy’s gonna have his Bluebellies hunkered down up on them hills just waiting for us with some artillery.”
Wesley grinned.
“What are you worried for, Jed? You sound like an old woman. Those Yanks will break and run just like they always do. Besides, we got to get in there and rescue those folks from that butcher.”
Wesley reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper.
“Listen to this. The Yanks were passing these out and some of our boys got a hold of them.”
He read out loud.
In this city (Winchester) of about 6,000 inhabitants … my will is absolute law – none dare contradict or dispute my slightest word or wish. The secesh here have heard many terrible stories about me before I came and supposed me to be a perfect Nero for cruelty and blood, and many of them both male and female tremble when they come into my presence to ask for small privileges, but the favors I grant them are slight and few for I confess I feel a strong disposition to play the tyrant among these traitors.
— Robert H. Milroy
“I tell you, Jed, we got to go up there and drive that devil out.”
Jed looked at his friend.
“Well, I reckon that’s what we’ll do, then, Wes.”
The two marched on in silence.
From Murray Pura’s Cry of Freedom Civil War Series Available on Amazon.com
A Gettysburg Vignette: Chapter One Exerpt – by Patrick E. Craig
Vignette: a brief incident or scene as in a play or a book…
This is a short, romanticized version of the story of John Wesley Culp, Jack Skelly and Ginnie Wade. Though they are historical figures and there are many facts and also many legends surrounding their lives, the thread of this story sprang from my own imagination. What we do know is that at the battle of Winchester, Jack Skelly, a wounded Union Soldier, wrote a letter to his betrothed, Ginnie Wade, who lived in Gettysburg. He gave the letter to their childhood friend, Wesley Culp, who was fighting for the South, and asked him to deliver it to Ginnie. The contents of the letter and what happened to it are subject to much speculation and so I have joined in. My part in that speculation created an imaginary diary written by Ginnie Wade that I have used to tie this story together. As far as I know, the diary never existed except on these pages. It is my hope that my theories concerning this event will, as you read A Gettysburg Vignette, be at least entertaining and hopefully thought-provoking. Enjoy!
Patrick E. Craig
Part One
The Letter – 1863
June 15
I have spent this day with the terrible feeling I will never see Jack again. It has haunted me all my waking hours. The commonplace doings of life in Gettysburg have faded into the fabric of this fear that clutches at my heart. It is my understanding that our boys are in Virginia somewhere fighting Robert E. Lee. I have, up to this point, not feared for Jack, as I know him to be a good and capable soldier who is dedicated to the Union cause. But this morning, when I awoke, there was a certainty that something terrible has happened or is about to happen to my beloved, and I cannot free myself from it. I pray that this dread is my own imagination, and not some divine instillation from above. Oh, Jack, may the sheltering hand of Providence be with you.
Diary of Ginnie Wade
Chapter One
Winchester
June 12, 1863
The sun was a caldron in an otherwise empty sky. The blazing heat beat down on the dusty road. The soldiers in gray were slowly moving into columns. It was the middle of June and Richard Ewell’s Second Corps was headed toward Winchester. All of the top commanders –Rodes, Ewell, Early, Johnson, and the old man himself, Robert E. Lee – had met together the night before, and now the Army of Northern Virginia was on the move again. Wesley Culp stuffed the last of his things into his pack, tied it up, and left the field where his Company was bivouacked. All around him the Rebel Army was moving onto the road that led north up the Shenandoah Valley. They had been moving north for days and they were tired, but the men of this Army didn’t care. They had been beating the pants off the Federals for months and they were in high spirits. Now the rumors were flying. Wesley’s tent-mate, Jed Culpeper smiled as he fell into step beside Wes.
“We’re headed to Pennsylvania for sure, Wes. Lee is going to take this war to old Abe and we’re going to end it once and for all.”
Wesley, felt a sharp pang of regret at the words. Pennsylvania was his home state and most of his family was fighting for the North. Jed kept on.
“Ain’t yer brother fighting for the Yanks?”
“When the war broke out, my brother, William and my cousin, David, joined Company F, 87th Pennsylvania. My best friend, Jack Skelly, joined up with them.”
“How come you didn’t go back to Pennsylvania and fight with them?” Jed asked.
“When I moved to Virginia, I was only fifteen. I made new friends and when they all joined the local militia, the Hamtramck Guards, I joined too. At first it was just a social club, but when the war started, we all joined up. I thought the fight would be over in a couple of weeks, but I was wrong.”
Jed looked over at Wes.
“The word is that the 87th is up at Winchester.”
Wesley shook his head.
“Well, Jed, I sure don’t want to run up agin’ Willie and David in Winchester. It would be a shame to have to shoot at ‘em.”
“Well, if you do see ‘em in battle, you’ll shoot, won’t you Wes?”
“I reckon I’ll have to, Jed.”
Wesley got a look on his face that said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so Jed shut up. The two men marched along in silence. All around them the grey army moved inexorably like a flood – pouring out of the South in what they hoped would be the campaign that would force the Federals to take their hands off and leave them alone.
The 2nd Virginia had just come from some of the worst fighting of the war at Chancellorsville where they had crushed Hooker’s army and pushed it north. Now the Southern troops were invading the North, forcing the Army of the Potomac to leave Washington D.C. and confront them. Everyone knew that a big fight was coming and the Army of Northern Virginia was ready.
Jed pulled a chunk of chaw out of his pocket, offered some to Wes, and when Wes shook his head no, bit off a big piece. In a few minutes he looked like a cow chewing its cud. He spit and then started talking again.
“I hear that Billy Yank has re-built those forts up there at Winchester. Old Milroy’s gonna have his Bluebellies hunkered down up on them hills just waiting for us with some artillery.”
Wesley grinned.
“What are you worried for, Jed? You sound like an old woman. Those Yanks will break and run just like they always do. Besides, we got to get in there and rescue those folks from that butcher.”
Wesley reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper.
“Listen to this. The Yanks were passing these out and some of our boys got a hold of them.”
He read out loud.
In this city (Winchester) of about 6,000 inhabitants … my will is absolute law – none dare contradict or dispute my slightest word or wish. The secesh here have heard many terrible stories about me before I came and supposed me to be a perfect Nero for cruelty and blood, and many of them both male and female tremble when they come into my presence to ask for small privileges, but the favors I grant them are slight and few for I confess I feel a strong disposition to play the tyrant among these traitors.
— Robert H. Milroy
“I tell you, Jed, we got to go up there and drive that devil out.”
Jed looked at his friend.
“Well, I reckon that’s what we’ll do, then, Wes.”
The two marched on in silence.
From Murray Pura’s Cry of Freedom Civil War Series Available on Amazon.com
July 24, 2013
A Quilt For…Jenny: from “The Road Home” by Patrick E. Craig
Jerusha sat at the table in her kitchen. The first rays of dawn were coming up over the eastern fields. A kiss of frost had formed on the windows and the beautiful crystalline patterns etched their magic on the glass. She lit a fire to take the chill off. Fall would soon be coming to an end and it would be time for the Thanksgiving feasts, for weddings and for the friendly fellowship that the Amish shared together during the long winter months. Once she would have felt great anticipation, but now her life seemed disconnected from everything but Jenny. It was hard for her to comprehend. She had lived in the simple way, she had been faithful to the ordnung, and she had shunned the world. But the world had crowded in on her life, for the second time now, and once again her daughter was at the center of the storm. She thought of the Rose of Sharon and how the quilt had been inextricably bound to the lives of both of her daughters. And then suddenly it occurred to her.
The quilt is bound to my life, too!
She remembered the days when she had cut the pieces for the rose pattern, over one hundred perfectly duplicated pieces of silk, overlaid and stitched together to make the beautiful rose in the center of the quilt. She thought about the way the rose has shone in the soft light of dawn, the morning of the big storm before she left for the fair. Not one stitch out of place, not one pucker, each piece perfectly placed and bound together…
You are the quilter of our lives. It is Your hand that places us perfectly into the pattern of your plan for us – a plan that You have always had in mind.
As Jerusha let the wonder of this revelation wash over her, the deep, peaceful voice that she had come to know again in these troubled days with Jenny spoke to her spirit.
I sent you the Rose of Sharon quilt to awaken you, to tell you that I was reaching for you. But you had forgotten. You thought that the peace you knew before Jenna came into this world was born from your faith, from your husband, from the land. But it was from me.
“…because you are the Prince of Peace?”
Yes. And Jenny has never known me in that way. So she has never known peace. Jenny is looking for something out there in the world to give her peace. But she will only find it in Me.
“Then tell me Lord, how I must pray for Jenny”
I have a plan for each of my children. But if My sheep cannot hear My voice they will not follow me into the sheepfold where I can guard them and protect them. Jenny needs to hear my voice for herself, not from you or from Reuben. And until she does, she is in great danger. I have no granddaughters, Jerusha – only daughters. That is how you must pray…
“The Road Home” – Book Two in the Apple Creek Dreams series – coming September 1, 2013
July 15, 2013
Grief: From Jenny’s Choice by Patrick E. Craig – Coming February, 2014
Jerusha and Reuben encouraged her to begin taking part in the daily life of the farm, and Jenny rediscovered many of the old ways from her childhood that helped her to build a structured schedule around her days. As she did, she could see herself developing an identity that did not include Jonathan – at times this was the hardest part of the process – but eventually she recognized that this was the only way she could recover. Still, on birthdays, or anniversaries and holidays during that first year without him, she suffered deeply, because those events conjured memories and emotions related to her terrible loss.
Ever vigilant, Reuben stepped in during the hard times and encouraged Jenny to take part in the church, or the Amish school, where she soon served as a helper and eventually as a teacher. And so the days passed and as the deep winter gave up its icy grip on Apple Creek and the first touch of spring began to melt the morning frost from the etched glass of the window in her room, Jenny slowly began to come back to life.
Then came a morning when Jenny awoke to a soft dawn that came creeping into her room like a mischievous child, softly kissing her awake with the delicate touch of a rose colored morning. Jenny opened her eyes, and saw the pale colors blushing in the fresh sky. She rose, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and slipped outside. The day was fresh and clean and warm, and the grass felt cool and damp against her bare feet. Above her head the plum trees were just sending forth the tiny pink buds that would soon burst into brilliant color and paint the world with God’s palette. A single wren twittered its call and stillness lay on the land. Jenny’s heart stirred within her at the unexpected beauty of the morning. An old barn cat came around the side of the house, meowed loudly and bunted her head against Jenny’s leg. Jenny smiled and reached down to scratch the cat behind the ears.
“Hello, Perticket,”
The old cat stayed for a moment, enjoying the attention, and then wandered off. Jenny took a deep breath and the fresh air tasted sweet. The sun began to peek up over the hills to the east and bright rays of sun shining through the trees cast easy shadows across the fields. A little breeze sprang up and the air stirred around her, gently lifting the golden red curls from her face. Above her a vee of Canadian geese flew north, honking as they went. Jenny was touched by the wonder of the day and a thought rose in her heart like a small trout rising for a fly in a still mountain lake.
I’m still alive. This didn’t kill me, and I can still find joy and wonder in a day.
The screen door creaked behind her and she looked around to see her papa coming out on the porch. He was dressed for work and his handsome face broke into a smile. Reuben stepped down from the porch and came over to Jenny.
“You have a glow about you this morning, dochter. It is good for my heart to see life creeping back into you.”
Jenny stepped into the circle of Reuben’s arms.
Yes, I do feel life coming back into me. It’s as though I have been raised from the dead!
“Papa, thank you!”
“For what, Jenny?”
“For not giving up on me, for walking beside me, and for being my rock when the storm raged most fiercely about me.”
Reuben’s arms tightened around her. Then he spoke and she could tell the words were difficult by the way they seemed to be pulled from him, syllable by syllable.
“When Jenna died, I wanted to die. I felt so helpless and I believed that but for my wrong-headedness, Jenna would have lived. If das Vollkennen des Gottes had not sent someone to help me, I would have died by my own hand. And then Gott, in His infinite mercy and grace, sent you to us. I cannot explain to you how it happened, but when I saw you for the first time, I knew that you belonged to me and to your mama forever. I knew that I had been given a second chance and I loved you with every bit of the love that I had for Jenna. And so when I see you suffer, I suffer too.”
Jenny looked into her papa’s eyes; the deep sea-blue eyes with the smile behind them and saw home and safety in them.
“And so I would do anything to see you happy again. You make sonnenschein in meinem Herzen and now you have given us Rachel and the joy she brings with her is beyond our understanding. I cannot give Jonathan back to you. If I could, I would give my own life to do so. But that is beyond me, so I give you my love and this place and whatever you need to be happy again. That is my prayer.”
And as the bright spring sun warmed the earth, the winter of Jenny’s great sorrow began to melt away, and the icy stronghold that held her dreams and hopes locked in its frozen fastness crumbled under the warmth of her father’s love, and the river of life began to flow once more in her heart.
From “Jenny’s Choice” by Patrick E. Craig – Coming February, 2014
July 7, 2013
Watch the Trailer – The Road Home by Patrick E Craig
A Note From Patrick E. Craig – The Road Home
What connexion can there have been between many people in the innumerable histories of this world, who, from opposite sides of great gulfs, have, nevertheless, been very curiously brought together!
Charles Dickens, Bleak House
When I was a pastor, I once counseled two young people that wanted to get married. She was a believer, but he was not. Like the character in this story, his name was Jonathan. My wife and I spent many days with this precious young couple, doing our best to share the Lord with Jon, but he seemed impervious to the pressing of the Spirit. One day, Jon and Sherry were telling us about their lives, how they had lived in so many different places, and done many different (often wild and dangerous) things, before finally coming to California and meeting – by ‘coincidence’, they said. Suddenly something occurred to me. I drew a rough map of the U.S. on a piece of paper and had Jon and Sherry put a dot on all the places they had lived before they met. Then I had them connect the dots. Both of their meandering trails led to one spot – a little town in California. Then I took the map and I said to Jon, “Do you know how I know God loves you?” He looked at me strangely and then said that he didn’t. I traced his journey with a pencil as I said, “I know He loves you because over the years, He led you through all these places in your life, watched over you and kept you safe, so that at this time in your life, He could bring you to California and give you Sherry to love.”
Well, I saw the penny drop. Jon stared at the map and then at his lovely fiancée’ and then at the map again. A huge smile broke on his face and then he said, “I guess God really does love me.”
Coincidence? Some say coincidence is God choosing to remain anonymous; others say coincidence simply means you’re on the right path. Often in writing, coincidence is regarded as a weak literary device – a quick way to advance a plot or move characters from one place to another without the need for a clever storyline. But when we look at our own lives — especially those of us who believe God is real and that He has a plan for us — don’t we discover a life-long thread of coincidences that have moved us ever onward toward a specific purpose for our lives? And if God is the Author and Finisher of our faith, would He use a weak device to write our story?
The Road Home is a story about God’s desire to fulfill His intention in the lives of people–two people in particular; Jenny, who, though surrounded by a loving family and a satisfying life, is still a mystery to herself and to her adoptive parents, and Jonathan, a young man seeking the answers to all the questions that each of us has asked in our own lives. This is a story filled with what some would call coincidence, but the truth is, there is really no such thing as coincidence – at least that’s the way I see it. For if God is working all things together for good then each moment, each event, each step, is somehow governed by His plan. And as for Jenny and Jonathan, the story of their lives brings them both to a little town called Apple Creek where they pass through a series of “coincidences” that in the end…
Well, I’ll let you read the story and find out…
New Trailer – The Road Home by Patrick E Craig
A Note From Patrick E. Craig – The Road Home
What connexion can there have been between many people in the innumerable histories of this world, who, from opposite sides of great gulfs, have, nevertheless, been very curiously brought together!
Charles Dickens, Bleak House
When I was a pastor, I once counseled two young people that wanted to get married. She was a believer, but he was not. Like the character in this story, his name was Jonathan. My wife and I spent many days with this precious young couple, doing our best to share the Lord with Jon, but he seemed impervious to the pressing of the Spirit. One day, Jon and Sherry were telling us about their lives, how they had lived in so many different places, and done many different (often wild and dangerous) things, before finally coming to California and meeting – by ‘coincidence’, they said. Suddenly something occurred to me. I drew a rough map of the U.S. on a piece of paper and had Jon and Sherry put a dot on all the places they had lived before they met. Then I had them connect the dots. Both of their meandering trails led to one spot – a little town in California. Then I took the map and I said to Jon, “Do you know how I know God loves you?” He looked at me strangely and then said that he didn’t. I traced his journey with a pencil as I said, “I know He loves you because over the years, He led you through all these places in your life, watched over you and kept you safe, so that at this time in your life, He could bring you to California and give you Sherry to love.”
Well, I saw the penny drop. Jon stared at the map and then at his lovely fiancée’ and then at the map again. A huge smile broke on his face and then he said, “I guess God really does love me.”
Coincidence? Some say coincidence is God choosing to remain anonymous; others say coincidence simply means you’re on the right path. Often in writing, coincidence is regarded as a weak literary device – a quick way to advance a plot or move characters from one place to another without the need for a clever storyline. But when we look at our own lives — especially those of us who believe God is real and that He has a plan for us — don’t we discover a life-long thread of coincidences that have moved us ever onward toward a specific purpose for our lives? And if God is the Author and Finisher of our faith, would He use a weak device to write our story?
The Road Home is a story about God’s desire to fulfill His intention in the lives of people–two people in particular; Jenny, who, though surrounded by a loving family and a satisfying life, is still a mystery to herself and to her adoptive parents, and Jonathan, a young man seeking the answers to all the questions that each of us has asked in our own lives. This is a story filled with what some would call coincidence, but the truth is, there is really no such thing as coincidence – at least that’s the way I see it. For if God is working all things together for good then each moment, each event, each step, is somehow governed by His plan. And as for Jenny and Jonathan, the story of their lives brings them both to a little town called Apple Creek where they pass through a series of “coincidences” that in the end…
Well, I’ll let you read the story and find out…
