Oh, the Places I Will Go

Read Teresa's story at Make Way Partners

When I begin a writing project, I seldom know where the research will lead me. I'm a hybrid plotter/pantser. In other words, I know the general path I will take, but I try to be open to the leading of the Lord to alter my course. He did that as I wrote my first novel manuscript, and He's doing it with this work-in-progress.

I write middle-grade novels primarily. Even in the case of fiction, for it to ring true, it must spring from truth. This work, The Second Cellar, does that. At its beginning, however, I did not imagine that my journey would take me to Darfur and beyond, albeit vicariously.

A friend involved with foreign and domestic missions, upon learning about my wip, is serving as a liaison between me and the founder of another ministry--this one involved in rescuing children and women from modern-day slavery in Islamic countries.  I look forward to talking with such a courageous woman. As any interviewer worth her ink knows to do, I will first thoroughly study her website and blog, so that I won't waste time asking questions she already has answered on those sites. Such perusal usually gives rise to other deeper, more probing questions.

Another likely stop on my research odyssey will be a visit to the immigration office in Indianapolis. Only the Lord knows where else I will travel in my quest.

Dear writing colleagues, what strange and unexpected turns has your research taken you? Please click "Comments" and tell of your experience.

Write on!

Because of Christ,
Sharon

Christmas Reflections: Six

"I Am Abraham"

Today God gave me an early Christmas gift.

I went to the hospital to get a routine blood draw to check the level of a particular medication. The technician introduced himself to me as I followed him back to the lab.

"I am Abraham," he said with a thick accent. He was very tall and thin, with skin like ebony satin.

"May I ask what country you are from?" I instinctively knew his answer.

"Do you know Africa? I am from Sudan."

"South Sudan?"

"Yes. I am in this country by the grace of God. I had to escape from my country."

As a former newspaper journalist, I longed to sit and talk with him at great length, learning his story, getting to know him. But of course I couldn't. I knew that he was on a tight schedule, and I certainly didn't want to cause him any problems.

"I have prayed for you for years," I said as he filled the vial, "without knowing you."

"Thank you."

"It is an honor to meet you," I gathered up my coat and handbag. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, also."

We met. We talked. We parted. All in a span of about five minutes. But I will never forget meeting Abraham of Sudan, one of the lost boys.

If you don't know who the lost boys (and girls) of Sudan are and what they have endured, their stories are easily available on the Internet. Many, if not most, suffer persecution because of their Christian faith.