It’s Father’s Day. And seeing as heaven has no zip code…since I can’t just lick and stamp a card…
I guess…I guess this year, Dad, you’re getting that book.
Yesterday, I mailed the signed contract that marks the true start of the book, the story–my Dad story of grief, and loss, and growing up, but really, of finding, and growing in, and learning to see all my aches for what they actually are: Fingerprints. Clues. A kind of weather vane, pointing to the truer country.
This book is my heart for others who find themselves in that same stretch of valley. Because, oh, I know. The pitch and lonely dark. The way it loops, the way it never quite ends, not really. It’s a narrow crevice, grief…we walk too much of it alone.
I pray this story offers the littlest pinch of light.
I am grateful to my lovely agent, Wendy Lawton, for helping me find a good home for this book. For understanding the hollow and rumbling hungers that won’t find real rest this side of time.
And I’m thankful, already, for the team at Faith Words/Hachette and all the work we’ll get to do together in the months ahead.
More to come!