Blog Carnival
The book I’m reading completely freaks me out. I honestly don’t know what to think of it. I’m not finished reading it, but I’m a little more than 3/4 of the way through. The first part of the book is simply a relationship developing between an ex-slave/homeless man and a rich art dealer. The book goes on to tell the story of the art dealer’s wife (Miss Debbie). Miss Debbie instigated the relationship between her husband and the homeless man through volunteering in a homeless shelter. In fact, the homeless shelter became her life’s ministry.
And now Miss Debbie is dying.
I sometimes cry when I watch movies. I think it’s the music along with the story that gets me. But I do not cry when I read. Last night, however, I sobbed. The struggle that Miss Debbie is going through with her digestive cancer is what I thought I was in for years ago when I fell ill. And it brought back fears and memories that I prefer to keep at bay.
So there I was at 11:00 at night, desperately needing to go to sleep, but my thumbs kept turning pages. By 11:14 last night, I turned the page that revealed Miss Debbie was finally gone. And I do mean finally. If she really did die like her husband (the art dealer) claims, I was glad to see her go. I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person, but I suspect it doesn’t, given that her family prayed for her death (after more than a year of clinging to the hope that she would live).
I felt my emotions calm a bit, now that Miss Debbie was at peace, and I thought I would read until the end of the chapter to get settled down completely.
That was a huge mistake.
Because at the end of the chapter, Miss Debbie came back.
You heard me. She came back.
She visited said ex-slave/homeless man in the night, to let him know he was welcome in their home (he was having doubts now that Miss Debbie was gone).
And then I was completely freaked out, and I still am.
Why?
Because this is a non-fiction book!
Only problem is … I don’t believe that dead people roam the earth. So now I’m stuck. Do I believe the writer, who with all of his heart believes that Miss Debbie came back to reassure him he was welcome in her home? Or do I stick with my belief that the dead do not walk and talk with those of us still trapped in time?
I do not appreciate theological ping pong so close to midnight. Nor do I appreciate someone telling me that the dead visted them as I lie in a dark bedroom, with my four dollar night light, unable to see anything in the dark around me.
It’s freaky.
At 11:40, I closed the book and put it on the dresser by my bed. I got up and used the restroom – more to calm my thoughts than anything else. I climbed back in bed, turned out said night light, and closed my eyes.
Sleep would not come quickly. So I prayed.
I prayed that the dead would stay dead and not come visit me. Because I don’t care how beautiful Miss Debbie was after she was dead and gone.
I don’t want her vistin’ me in the middle of the night.
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This post has been part of Duane Scott’s blog carnival, Pleasantly Disturbed Thursdays. Click here to link up, or read more posts!
Can’t blame you for feeling a bit freaked by all that…
Now I might have to read the book for myself though..
Don’t do it!
The Same Kind of Different As Me? I read that book and enjoyed it immensely. I can’t say that I remember someone coming back from the dead, so maybe it is a different book but definitely about the same people.
Yes!! That’s the book. Miss Debbie visited Denver after she died. I think part of the problem was that I was alone in the dark at night. Haha! But still … I don’t think dead people visit us. And I stick to my opinion that it’s freaky.
I actually have to do a review on this book for Thomas Nelson. I’ll post it here. Maybe the book will end well?? I like a lot of the book. Just not the way she struggled so badly to die (and it seems as though she had no peace about dying), and I of course don’t like the “visitation.”
Hi there. I found your blog from Nikole Hahn. She posted information about my book for a blog tour. I know the book your referencing (Same Kind of Different as Me) as I also reviewed it for Thomas Nelson. I must confess I do not remember the incident you are relating, which is unusual because having come from an occult background (as a witch, medium, and ghost hunter) I generally pick up on that immediately. I’m going to go back and check that out because I agree with you that if it’s as you are describing it’s rather disturbing that it would be in a Thomas Nelson book.
Perhaps I’m just completley easily freaked out. I don’t know. But the book ended with another ghost incident, plus Denver explained how he had an aunt that (to me) was probably a witch. I would love for you to go back and read it and then tell me what you think.
I most definitely will and shall let you know.
I would reccomend the book, Escaping the Cauldron. You can read the review of it on my blog.
It’s not really Miss Debbie. The author and I believe it’s denomic of origin, but not the actual Miss Debbie.
Of course, now you are really freaked out. LOL.
I’m playing up the freaked up part. A little bit. I was mostly bugged because of the turn the book took. I was really enjoying the friendship the two men were cultivating. Then BOOM! Sickness, death, and floaty people in the night! Ha!
I don’t want her vistin’ me in the middle of the night, either!
I like these kinds of books! And you never told me the title! Whatis it?
Same Kind of Different As Me. By Denver Moore and Ron Hall. I have to do an actual book review on it for Thomas Nelson. Trying to figure out how to do that. Ha! Perhaps by the time I’m back home from vacation, I’ll have it figured out.
The author (the white man) spoke at a local fundraising dinner a few months back and the co-author (homeless man) was not able to come because of sickness. They did have a video of him speaking. Very interesting meeting and a great needed book. They are writing another book maybe even more than one.
Yes, I see they have written another. I agree that portions of the book needed to be written, and I did enjoy various parts of the book. I am just saying I could have done without all the woogly boogly.
)