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  • Format: Paperback
  • Copyright: 2012-02-08
  • Publisher: Textstream
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What would you do if everything that was important to you were taken away? What if you lost your entire family, your husband, your only child, and your health? Would you shake your fist in the face of God, or would you run to Him? What if you were an overweight, homely, and acne-scarred kid with no friends and a bleak future? Would you blame God or would you see yourself through His a beautiful princess carefully crafted by His loving hand? You hold in your hand the story of two women, completely opposite in nature. Both experience the devastations of life, and both react in different ways. It is the story of the relentless pursuit of a God who loves His children desperately, whether they choose to come to Him or not. It is the story of love and loss, devastation and hope, utter grief and complete restoration. We all have that choice. We can be broken, and live in our despair and bitterness....or we can run into the arms of the One who can make us whole again. Which path will you choose?


She woke, alone; to the familiar, searing pain of what she wished was only a migraine. Moaning softly, she reached for the Japanese silk kimono hanging by the side of her bed and gingerly made her way to the bathroom. Lit only by the soft glow of a nightlight, her bathroom was her only sanctuary. With stone floors, large roman columns, and more square footage than most apartments in New York, her pride and joy was the tub she had designed after the common bathing areas of ancient Greece. She spent hours in her massive garden tub, soaking away the tension that seemed to follow her every day. The nooks were filled with exotic oils and perfumed salts that were shipped to her from around the world. Small hidden speakers in the ceiling piped in the sounds of soft acoustic guitar and she would feel herself start to relax the moment she entered. She had hired a local artist to paint large palm trees and tropical birds on the walls, lush flowers peeking out around her, and a vast azure sea beyond. Sometimes she could close her eyes and almost smell the pina coladas and salty ocean air. This was where Theresa went when she needed to escape the conference calls and emails, the demanding clients, nearly constant business trips, the pagers, the assistants following her around with bolts of fabric. As the most successful (and highest paid) fashion designer in the country, she rarely had a few moments to herself to enjoy it. The clothing line, "Her Wicked Ways," was her baby. The only one she would ever have. She nurtured it, fed it, cared for it, and loved it like her child. But right now, the only refuge she sought was the rows of prescription bottles on her countertop. So many pills. Long ago she had decided that it would be best to keep them out of easy reach. Too many nights, in her fear and her agony, it would be so easy, so simple to just take a handful of them and drift away. Leave behind her mistakes, her guilt, her obsessive need to be the best at everything. Theresa Wakefield-Anderson, however, was a warrior. When she got up in the morning she would remember that she had never lost a fight, and wasn't about to start now. She had battled bigger wars in her lifetime than a mere disease, and had come out strong. She didn't need or want anyone else's help. She was strong on her own. She thought back to the day she received the diagnosis. That one word that would change her life, turn her world upside down and change it forever. Cancer. Worse, incurable and inoperable brain cancer. She had been given six months at the most and was advised to "put her affairs in order." The physician had looked at her with no compassion, no understanding, no hope. He watched curiously for her reaction, but nothing more. She was like a lab rat to him, and because there was nothing more he could do for her, he was ready to move on to his next project. She was informed that there were things that could be done to make her comfortable, extend her life by perhaps a week or two, but that was the most she could hope for. She fired him. Theresa had always believed in surrounding yourself with positive people. She was NOT about to put her life in the hands of a pessimist. She was right. Eight and a half months. That's how long it had been since that horrible, clinical announcement. As she gazed briefly into the mirror, she realized that she would not have much time left before she would have to break down and get herself a wig. She took note of the last few strands of hair that no amount of styling would make appear thicker. It was the final indignity – losing her trademark luxurious hair. Theresa was not only known for her remarkable sense of design, and flawless beauty but also for her hair. Reaching down to her tiny waist, her thick auburn wavy hair stopped men in their tracks and caused women to gape in envy. She had always been so proud of it, and now it was gone. Sighing, she reached for the first bottle, then the second. When she had what she thought was just enough to take the edge off her pain, she tossed them back with a glass of water. Gazing into the empty glass, she thought about how simple and happy her life used to be. She missed Sara with her twinkling aqua marine eyes and devilish sense of humor, and Coleman the gentle giant always willing to rescue a damsel in distress. Tears running freely now, she thought about how that had literally been the death of him. Sliding to the cold stone floor of her bathroom, she allowed the memories to come flooding back, one by one.....

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