Faith Happens

By Joyce Freese

Who left??  You or God?

Various stories about a day in the life of an ordinary person who struggles with a gamut of emotions and decisions while trying to do the right thing. Sometimes, it's the Electronic Demons of wireless devices controlling our life and creating chaos when they fail to do their job. Sometimes, it's the memory of a lost one who hollows our soul. Yet, in spite of our frustrations, at the end of the day, the world resets itself through the grace of God.

SHORT BIBLE STORIES:

• Addicted tp Drama?
• Electronic Demons
• The Wedding
• Lost?
• Connected to What?
• Metamorphosis
• Take a Second Hard Look
• Some Mother's Son

• Language: English
• Publisher: Callie Shay Publishing
• Release date: Mar 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201749484

Joyce Freese

I have always been a writer. At first, it was with an old-fashioned typewriter. Then, the Internet answered my dreams with Microsoft Word. I could now write faster and with convenience, all with spell check, a blessing for one who can't spell. Through writing, be it fiction or non-fiction, I found my voice and myself. I do not have enough lifetimes to write all the books I imagine. My Paranormal Thriller Series began when I sold a home that previously had been a funeral home. Upon crossing the threshold of any home, I feel an energy surge of those who have occupied the home, past and present. This quick surge of energy leaves its mark on me. I always thought that every Realtor felt this same electrical jolt. However, when I took a quick survey of all my Realtor friends, they looked at me like I was crazy. It  never happened to them, yet, it happens to me every time. Perhaps that is why I believe that Every Home has Its Own Secrets. Have you ever walked into a home and felt a sudden cold chill as if someone unseen breathed on the back of your neck? Or perhaps felt the silence that echoed a stillness known only to death? I have. All homes store their own private memories. Sometimes loving comfort or depressed sadness lingers. Other times, a collective numbness or lethargy exists. Occasionally, red hot anger can take your breath away. Even as its inhabitants change or depart, their experiences remain. Each person and event leaves an individual mark. This energy remains within its walls. Nothing is ever forgotten. Both In a Time of Smallpox Death Arrives and Unnoticed capture the energy of its occupants within its walls.

Book preview

Joyce Freese

Collection 1:

Some Mother’s Son

Take a Second Hard Look

Connected to What?

Addicted to Drama

Metamorphosis

Lost

Electronic Demons

The Wedding

Some Mother’s Son

Dedicated to all who know the loss of innocence

And the ravages of war

Gettysburg, 1986

It was a perfect day—one of those days often imagined but rarely realized. The fresh warm breezes of late May were an immediate therapy to my chilled body still frozen from a harsh Midwestern winter. A hint of honeysuckle was in the air. The light scent of fading lilacs lingered momentarily as I climbed onto the upper berth of the English bus that was to transport us to the grounds of the Gettysburg Memorial.

While waiting to begin, I could not imagine ever feeling this relaxed and happy. The sun had such healing powers, especially when its absence for months had been so missed. Lifting my face towards its powerful heat and gently closing my eyes, I felt the serenity of God. For a moment, I became ethereal. The sudden jolt of the bus lurching forward intruded. We began our journey into the past.

Diverting from the modern highway, we continued along an unpaved road, a reminder of bygone days. Gently rolling mounds of wheat colored earth newly touched by specs of spring’s sage green stretched before us.

Tall birch and poplar trees stood guard around its perimeter. Its part-like setting conjured visions of children playing amongst its wide expanse. Children had been here before but not to play.

As the bus traveled downward into a dry river basin, a pervading silence replaced the initial peacefulness of the countryside. Jostling from side to side as the bus infrequently avoided rocky ruts that now had become the road, I felt a stillness that lingered from the past.

Anxious to escape the confines of the bus, I proceeded to walk along the dusty creek. With each step, I