-After a True Story-

downloadThere was a man and his wife living in a small house in a village in Transylvania. It was in the late 50’s when the communist Russia had put its own commander to lead Romania. The food was scarce and people working in factories had to stay in long lines to get it.

It was a little easier for the peasants who had a patch of land behind their house and a few chickens in the yard. But the bad news was that they had to give a portion of their harvest to the government, to the communists.

Maria, the woman in this story, was saving the eggs from her hens to go and sell them at the farmers’ market the following week. They needed to buy a new basket for their household, since the old one was too shabby. Every morning at breakfast John, her husband, was keeping asking her for a fried egg, but the wife was unmoved in collecting and saving the eggs.

“You’ll eat one next week,” she kept telling him getting ready to visit her sister.

Then she left.

The man hurried and pulled out the container full of eggs from under the daybed in the kitchen.

He started the fire in the stove and placed a big pan on top of it. Oiled it with sunflower oil and began to break egg after egg, filling the whole pan with eggs. When he counted them, there were 17.

The man friend them and pulled the pan on the side of the stove to keep it warm and went and cut a few slices of bread.

Then he ate and ate. He ate them all.

No need to say that by the time his wife came back home, he was in bed, sick to death. It took a few days to recover from the egg shock.

Next day the communist agents  knocked at the door to collect their share of eggs from Maria and John.

“We have no eggs.” Maria said making room for the uninvited guests to step inside.

The agents looked under the bed, searched the small pantry, went through the cabinets, but in vain.

“You lie, woman. Where are the eggs?”

Maria pulled out her hanky from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

“Our hens are lazy,” and she blew her nose.

The men looked at the bed where John was suffering.

“What’s wrong with him?” one asked.

“He is sick, my John. I hope none of you would catch it.”

The communists bursted outside and didn’t came back for a month.

When they entered the yard again to get the eggs, John was eating an apple.

Cancer, You Have to Go

4946992_origI was talking yesterday with a sweet friend who goes through a second treatment against cancer. She is an amazing woman who invited us to be her witnesses during this tough journey. It’s an honor to be allowed to see her almost every day on a social media platform and join her in her laughters and prayers.

There was no cancer in my family, but I remember my father who wouldn’t even use the word “cancer” because he was scared.

I was raised in a rough society, when we had to overcome hardships in order to survive. Communism wasn’t for the weak. If you were weak, you couldn’t manage life.

Then, in my adulthood, my life became hectic when stress and abuse crept in. By the time I became a single mother and raising four kids, I felt old and worn-out. More stress and burdens kept piling up inside me about two years ago, culminating with some mass growing under my arm. I was devastated looking at the prognostics of death, with no health insurance at that time.

The feeling of helplessness crippled me. I told my youngest son about what was going on and he was perplexed. We didn’t know what to do. Then he reminded me about a recipe I had found on Internet years ago and had shared it with some friends who needed it. I talk about this in my book I’m finishing writing, “Cancer, You Have to Go.”

Death is a powerful trigger that puts us to refocus on things that matter.

We had many family casual gatherings, I took prayer walks up and down the streets, and because I was self-employed, I worked even more hours to write, illustrate and self-publish children’s books. Both my youngest son and I agreed that I had to write more and publish more, not knowing how much time I had. I completed almost twenty children’s books and published them on Amazon and Kindle during that time.

I wasn’t aware that stress, depression, anxiety and most of all, soul wounds and unforgiveness kept the bad chemicals flow into my body. It took about two years to deal with this junk and turn off the faucet.

I don’t know what future holds. What I know is that God is in control.

I pray that He would help each of us fulfill all our days He has in plan for us and none of them would be shortened.