The large parking lot in front of the strip mall is usually empty. Yesterday I was driving by, minding my own business, when I realized the lot was filled to overflowing, as was a car dealership nearby. Police directed traffic. Television cameras rolled. I was tempted to turn around and join the fray – but I didn’t.
Later I learned that the mob had come from across the USA to audition for a place on the TV show, Survivor.
I have no idea if someone was chosen for the show. I do know this, though. The excitement of being on that show – or any other – could not begin to compare with the excitement at the Bateman house this week. The overwhelming response to the airing of our story on Focus on the Family has blessed us and humbled us. We are blessed because of the encouraging comments from so many of you – and we are humbled because God continues to use our story.
Please be assured I read each communication from the radio listeners and will strive to answer you as quickly as I can. I count that a rare privilege.
Book sales of I WILL NEVER are strong. I appreciate your writing a review on Amazon because that helps to get the book into the hands of others. And, of course, I always want you to be aware of new blogs and my next book, so make sure you look in the column on the RIGHT that says “Stay Connected” and provide your email address and click “Subscribe”.
Back to Survivor. I have this nagging feeling that I should have auditioned. I’ll let you be the judge of that after I tell you what happened.
Recently I almost stepped on a snake who had half of his total 6 feet draped over the ledge of my porch door. I squealed like a girl. Ran back through the door and locked it. And just the other day I was sitting on the back porch and glanced up to see something strange – a bird or stick – in the tiny opening of the bluebird house that’s hanging close to the top of a privacy fence. Then the “something strange” started to grow. Mr. Snake grew and grew as it contorted its black body around trying to figure a way out of the bird house. With it’s extended head searching for a “snake hold” out of the opening and its creepy tongue darting in and out, I wondered if it originally had backed in.
I squealed like a girl and locked the porch door yet again. To put this all in perspective, I am not “Jane of the Jungle.” We live in a subdivision!
Now you be the judge. Would I have made it to Survivor? Well, I did survive the launch of my book I WILL NEVER.
I’m working on a fiction book about Mary’s mother, Jesus Called Me Grandma. There is a snake in the story and you might even find a survivor. I don’t plan to write on the porch, though.