I'm so happy, I could pee my pants!

I've decided to self-publish my journal. It's been a long debate I've had with myself--there's nothing like internal debates--but now that the time is here I'm really excited about my book. It's taken years to edit the thing because it's painful for me to read.  It's almost taken as many years to discover the name and cover art. I never thought the day would come, but it's finally here. I think Zeke's final tribute is falling into place.  I won't actually publish it for another year, but I'll give out advance copies for reviews soon.  So, if anyone is interested let me know!

I still remember when I re-read my journal.  It had been years since Zeke died.  I still needed healing, and found hope among my own words.  It's the story of how I lost my son, but found myself.  After his ashes fell among the fabric of this world, I still had a family who'd support me in their quirkiness, a man who'd never stopped loving me, and a God who would never leave me.

Here's the cover I've decided on:



Cade's holding Zeke's statue in the picture.  It's funny though because this picture makes it look easy.  In real life Cade was saying, "It's heavy.  It's heavy.  Take the picture."

But my camera wouldn't click.  I pushed the button over and over until Cade struggled to keep Zeke's statue in the air.  Some of the people driving by probably thought we were nuts!  Maybe like the day I posed on the Toilet . . . The picture for my book did turn out great regardless, since my camera finally went off at the right moment.  Cade said it felt really neat holding Zeke like that, like it was a symbol of how we gave him back to God.

I thought you might get  kick out of why this statue is so important to us.  Here's a excerpt from my journal:

The ex-stripper visited my house this afternoon. She said she kept feeling like she should give me a statue. I saw the statue and was speechless because it looks just like Zeke. Its ears are a little different from each other and I wondered what type of sculptor would purposely create something so imperfect yet beautiful.

Apparently, the ex-stripper is closely connected with the Almighty. I thought about asking her to pray for my dad, but changed my mind fast and said, “My son died last year and this is exactly what he looked like.” I stared at the statue again. It's of a little baby who's sitting down with a bird resting in his lap.

“He must have been a beautiful little boy,” she said and gave me a hug. I saw that she cried, pretty sober at that moment. I thanked God for thinking about both of us even though she used to strip and I had a kid with defects. I'm so glad she gave me the statue. I'll keep it forever!

“Wow, this must have cost a fortune!” I said.

“More than you know. I made good money stripping.”

“Really, was it worth it?” I asked because I was curious and had lost all common courtesy.

“No, not at all,” she said, then left me alone with the statue of Zeke.