About two years ago, I decided to write a book about various aspects of my life. I didn’t want it to be an chronicle autobiography, but I did want to write about my journey.
It turned into a story about marriage, parenting, and most of all, seeking God over and over again.
You can read the book’s introduction below, and you can purchase it in paperback or ebook form on Amazon.
When I was seven, my brother turned out all the lights, pretended to be a ghost, and chased me into the first-floor bathroom. I sat crying in the tiny room until a note flew under the door—a message from beyond. Something scuffled on the other side of the door as I picked up the paper and read shaky print over a pounding heartbeat.
What could a ghost possibly want to tell me?
My scream was so loud that the kids’ parents from three houses away came over and grounded Ben.
Now, at twenty-seven years old, I sat in the same tiny bathroom (different wallpaper) crying over spilled milk, when a pregnancy test slid under the door and sailed past my big toe. It was perceptive of my husband to buy it, though it was not on his shopping list, which consisted of fried chicken and pizza. At midnight.
I stared at it—again, I was intrigued at the possibility but terrified at what it would say. I was ready for motherhood the second we were declared man and wife but really wondered if it would ever happen. Shawn didn’t jump on the baby bandwagon until four years later on the cusp of his thirtieth birthday, which was when he scheduled adulthood—he’s a planner. Now, at close to thirty-one, I heard him breathing on the other side of the door.
Over a pounding heart, I picked up and read the same message from beyond—appearing in the form of two ghostly lines.
That moment, I knew I was not alone, and little did I know I would never be alone in the bathroom again.
copyright @ Meg Duncan