I don't know why laminate flooring is such a cause for anxiety for our dog Petey, but he looks upon the stuff as if it's The Valley of the Shadow of Death. He's fine on the kitchen tile, and he's ecstatic on the area rug in the living room. But that three-foot strip of laminate between the two is a never-ending zombie apocalypse to the poor little guy.
We just now spent fifteen minutes trying to lure him from the kitchen to the living room, while he sat there whining like his little heart would break, because we were 3 feet away in lovely-carpet-world and he was all alone in tile-flooring-land.
So it's book launch day.
While I would like to tell you that I have lately felt an overflowing peace about the book launch, this would be a lie.
No, this whole thing is my own vast expanse of horrible, threatening laminate flooring. Where I am is wonderful. Where I'm going will probably be fabulous. In between is what-the-heck. I've been sitting here whining about it for a while, and today it's time to skitter across the wilderness and see if I survive it.
You guys can help me past the freaking out by doing two things.
Only two things since it's a holiday and I don't want you to strain yourself.
1. Go buy the book! If you buy a print version, you'll get the Kindle version for free. That's so you can share it with somebody.
2. Put the Amazon link out on social media: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, whatever. I'm going to buy some ad space on a couple of popular blogs in a few weeks, but I'm curious to see what we can do all by ourselves first. So let's toss it out there and see what happens!
Here's the best link to share:
http://www.amazon.com/As-Soon-Fell-Memoir-ebook/dp/B00MS8IKSG
Many, many thanks to my lovely early readers and reviewers who have already been so kind about their experience with the book! You guys make me brave(r).
Deep breath, here we go... the prologue is below...
Cover: Christie Kim, girl genius
PROLOGUE
If I had to pick a moment that makes the story all hang together, it’s this one.
There I am, on a Sunday morning, standing in the middle of a gravel road, on a hill in the highlands of Papua New Guinea.
If that moment were a painting, it would be entitled, Done.
And if that painting were hung in a gallery, people would look at it and wonder why anyone would choose to paint something as mundane as a 30-something missionary lady, standing in the middle of a gravel road, on a hill, in the highlands of Papua New Guinea.
But as the subject of that painting, I would tell you that it was a watershed moment. The Continental Divide of my life. Everything before went one way, and everything after went another.
It’s funny. I remember so very little about that morning.
I don’t remember what I fixed for breakfast. I don’t remember if the kids had trouble finding clean Sunday clothes. I don’t remember what Andy said or didn’t say to me.
I just remember leaving the house, walking down toward the meeting house for church. I remember the high curve of the hill on my left, the gravel under my feet, and Karen’s front door, down to my right.
I remember what I said. Out of nowhere. The only words I had.
I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Then I stopped in the middle of the road and stood there.
Done.
While I was standing there, done, Karen came out of her front door and said, “Are you okay?”
I said, “No.”
After that, I remember that Karen walked me back home and called Patty, the counselor. There was medication, a little blue pill that wiped my mind clean and shut my body down. Then there was sleep, filled with nightmares.
I thought about dying. In fact, it seemed to me that these thoughts about dying were coming from this one particular corner of the room, right above the doorway.
I was done.
Before the moment of done, I kept on trying. After the moment of done, I was just done. That was all I knew: I had tried so hard, and somehow I was done.
My husband and I had felt called to the mission field when we were first married. We went to the Solomon Islands in 1993 to work on a New Testament translation for the Arosi language. We had worked hard for 10 years, raising four children and getting the translation done in good time. We were almost finished with the project, just getting ready for typesetting.
We had accomplished everything we’d planned to do, everything we thought God wanted us to do. But somehow, now, I just could not understand my life any more.
This question ran through my mind, over and over: how had trying so hard to do what I thought God wanted me to do, ended up in being so done?