Laid off from her first job as a staff writer for an Atlanta newspaper and stuck in a dysfunctional relationship, Jane retreats to a cabin in the Smokey Mountains to demand guidance from a so-far silent God. When she accidently falls and hits her head, she acquires a seventh sense that allows her to understand the language of animals and plants. Her divine guidance comes in the form of an abandoned stray dog and a cast of unusual characters who describe their purpose here on earth through enchanting and profound stories. With the animals and plants insights leading her, Jane finds enlightenment, authenticity, personal empowerment, and travels out of confusion and complexity into a world of simplicity and personal choice. As she recaptures her own true nature, she discovers that even the most lost can eventually find their way home.
Laid off from her first job as a staff writer for an Atlanta newspaper and stuck in a dysfunctional relationship, Jane retreats to a cabin in the Smokey Mountains to demand guidance from a so-far silent God. When she accidently falls and hits her head, she acquires a seventh sense that allows her to understand the language of animals and plants. Her divine guidance comes in the form of an abandoned stray dog and a cast of unusual characters who describe their purpose here on earth through enchanting and profound stories. With the animals and plants insights leading her, Jane finds enlightenment, authenticity, personal empowerment, and travels out of confusion and complexity into a world of simplicity and personal choice. As she recaptures her own true nature, she discovers that even the most lost can eventually find their way home.
Paperback
-
SHIP THIS ITEMTemporarily Out of Stock Online
-
PICK UP IN STORE
Your local store may have stock of this item.
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
Laid off from her first job as a staff writer for an Atlanta newspaper and stuck in a dysfunctional relationship, Jane retreats to a cabin in the Smokey Mountains to demand guidance from a so-far silent God. When she accidently falls and hits her head, she acquires a seventh sense that allows her to understand the language of animals and plants. Her divine guidance comes in the form of an abandoned stray dog and a cast of unusual characters who describe their purpose here on earth through enchanting and profound stories. With the animals and plants insights leading her, Jane finds enlightenment, authenticity, personal empowerment, and travels out of confusion and complexity into a world of simplicity and personal choice. As she recaptures her own true nature, she discovers that even the most lost can eventually find their way home.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781932181845 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Personhood Press |
| Publication date: | 06/01/2011 |
| Series: | Strays Series |
| Pages: | 240 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Jeanne Webster is a certified professional life coach who specializes in teen and young-adult issues, life transitions, and spiritual integration. She is an award-winning author, speaker, and columnist and the author of Conversation with God for Teens and If You Could Be Anything, What Would You Be? She lives in Otto, North Carolina.
Read an Excerpt
Strays
By Jeanne Webster
Personhood Press
Copyright © 2011 Jeanne WebsterAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-932181-85-2
CHAPTER 1
Silk ... who would wear silk in the rain?
Lying on the wet steps, Jane had no idea how long she had been unconscious, or for that matter, where she was. All she knew was it was getting dark, she had a large bleeding bump on her forehead, and she was soaked to the bone. With some effort, she carefully rolled her head to one side and surveyed her surroundings. Above her was a metal pipe set in cement that served as a handrail for the steps. Grabbing it for balance, she raised her shoulders slightly for a better look.
Several metal benches dotted a wide grassy area; between them was some sort of metal telescope and beyond that a stone wall. Behind her were the granite steps that led up to the parking lot. Her car was right where she left it. That's right; I'm at a scenic overlook. Her mind was beginning to focus. I'm at a scenic overlook in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. Struggling to orient herself, she saw the events that led her to this spot flashing behind her eyes in gut-twisting little vignettes. It took only seconds before full memory came flooding back.
Jane squeezed her eyes tightly shut trying to blot out the advancing pictures, but it did no good. The recall was bright and clear. There was a shot of her standing in her editor's office at the newspaper the day she got laid off. Another vivid snippet showed her live-in boyfriend telling her, yet again, how much better off she'd be if she just let him run her life. Several other images showed her sitting zombie-like, nurturing the nagging feeling that she was missing the point of life and the key was just beyond her reach. Then, as an added bonus, there were several bits and pieces of her praying to a so-far silent God for direction and clarity. Those particular scraps shot ripples of anger and despair through her in waves.
Jane grimaced at the recollections. Well, I'm alive and I know who I am. My luck, I can't even manage a small case of amnesia. Jane slowly rolled herself into a sitting position to take stock of her injuries. Her inquiring hands found a throbbing forehead and a couple of matching scrapes that her shins suffered when they slid over step number six. She was a bit dizzy so she sat motionless, still clinging to the metal rail, and waited for the sensations to pass. The bump on her forehead was the size of a ping pong ball but the cut wasn't deep. The rain mixing with what little blood there was gave the illusion of a much more grave injury. Jane wiped at her face with the hem of her blouse. Having checked out the physical, she began taking stock of her mental condition.
Discontent had been Jane's companion for a long time now, ever since her life had digressed into one long series of dramas and disappointments. This wasn't the way she planned it would go. Plowing through her days like a vehicle that was missing its steering wheel or a boat without a rudder, she was never quite in control. For all her best-laid plans, life seemed determined to waft along on whatever fickle breeze of chance blew her way. She had lost her connection, lost the ability to grasp the meaning of life and her purpose in it — that she was here for a reason.
Nothing was turning out the way she wanted it to, the way she used to see it in her dreams, and she was angry. Angry with her journalism degree: for all the long years of education, she still hadn't written anything that mattered. She was livid with her boyfriend for not being the man she needed him to be. She was outraged that all she thought her life could be was evaporating in front of her eyes like so much mist. Most of all, at the top of her list, she was furious with God.
Jane cradled her aching head in her hands and sighed, trying to push her thoughts aside for just another moment. What she wouldn't give for a good night's sleep — seven or eight uninterrupted hours, devoid of all the tossing and turning that takes place when the problems of the waking hours slop over into the night. She hardly dreamed anymore, not the good kind of dreams anyway. Now her hours of darkness were filled with second guesses and anxious questions. It was as if she had been dropped into a black hole with no exit, and lost in this void was the ability to navigate the road her life had taken — heck, she couldn't even find the path anymore. She'd developed a blind spot or taken a wrong turn somewhere, gotten off course, and she was suffering the avalanche of consequences of some foolish misstep.
Sitting on the steps, rain dripping from her long dark hair, Jane was fully back now, in body and of sound mind. Fully back and remembering the moments before her little accident. She had pulled into the tourist site just down the road from the cabin she was staying in to have a look. She'd passed it several times and each time she passed, she'd promised herself to stop. Curiosity had gotten the better of her today and it was time to make good on her promise. It would be a quick stop, just a minute to take a peek. The groceries, including her favorite brand of ice cream, were stowed in the back of her SUV and wouldn't allow her the luxury of a long idle. It wouldn't do for her double-brownie chocolate fudge to melt. She'd been looking forward to finding tonight's brand of comfort at the end of a spoon.
Jane raised her head and looked out on the vista before her. She didn't have a clue how long she'd been here, but the light was fading and fog crawled along the floor of the valley. The mountains had become little islands of muted color shrouded in a sea of gray. It seemed like only moments ago the sky had been a clear Carolina blue and the mountains stretched out before her like some magnificent rumpled quilt. Autumn had arrived and painted the landscape in a perfect mix of color. Amber, magenta, russet, greens, and yellows were so perfectly blended that if the scene were a painting, one would swear the artist took liberty with his rendering. Each mountain rose and fell in such a way there was no doubt that some divine hand had surely touched and molded each one. Seeing it reminded Jane that God not only existed but was very much present ... and that's when the fight began.
Seeing all that beauty had thrown Jane into a mixture of awe and the sacred feeling you get when you know something is holy. It reminded her of her unanswered prayers and the silence that picked at the seams of her faith. She ranted, unleashing all the months of frustration. There had been pleading, even threatening, but in the end she was met with the same thundering stillness as before, as if she weren't significant enough or worthy of help. Adding insult to injury, the skies had opened and the rain pelted down on her. Turning to flee, the toe of her shoe slipped off the edge of the slick steps and she'd fallen. Now here she sat, wet and bloodied, on her own again to figure things out.
Jane took a deep breath. The dizziness had all but passed and she needed to get back to the cabin and take care of herself. Slowly she rose and tested her legs. Well, looks like I'm going to live. My life is a shambles, I've lost my job, and my live-in boyfriend isn't even close to committing. I have very little money, I've lost my dreams, and today I had a fight with God, so I won't count on any help from anywhere. I'm on my own. Maybe I should become an atheist. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad living without heaven or angels or the belief that my life may have some meaning. I should go back to Atlanta and find a chapter of Atheists Anonymous and just soldier on.
Jane pressed her hand to her head, trying to staunch the oozing blood. She spoke out loud to the sky. "I'm still mad at You, God, if You're even listening and I doubt You are. I am going to stop believing. Maybe mankind is nothing more than some accidental byproduct of some primordial ooze. So, if You won't show me the way, I'll find my own way."
"I'll help you find your way," a small voice announced off to her left.
Jane turned her throbbing head, looking for the owner of the voice. Twisting around, she looked behind her; the only vehicle in the parking lot was hers. She peered into the growing darkness beyond the street lamp searching for a silhouette. The only thing she saw was a spider-web attached to the underside of the handrail.
"What?"
"I said, I can help you find the way." The disembodied voice came again. It sounded like a little old lady, small, but one that time hadn't robbed of her strength.
Jane screwed herself around again, trying to get an audio fix on the direction of the voice.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Under here. I watched you fall; are you okay? I must say, wisdom should tell you not to run on wet stones. They grow moss, you know, and that can be very slippery when it's wet."
Jane's eyes darted back and forth as she made casual conversation. "Yeah, well, I don't feel very wise at the moment." She wondered if her vision had been affected by the blow to her head. "I still don't see you; could you show yourself?"
"Right here," the voice continued. "You looked right at me when you woke up. I'm here, below the handrail in my silk." Jane sat down on the step once again to get a better look at the rail.
Silk ... who would wear silk in the rain? At that moment her eye caught the spider-web again. Her mind moved in staccato deliberations ... Silk ... spider-web ... spider-silk. Jane slid her body closer to the handrail and squinted in concentration. There, resting in the center, was a small brown spider.
"There, that's better. I believe you can see me quite clearly now." The voice seemed to originate from the center of the web where the spider sat.
"Oh no ... no, no, no, no, NOOO," Jane gasped, and in spite of her head, scrambled up the remaining steps to the parking lot. "Wrong, wrong, wrong, something is very wrong here." Thrusting her hand in her pocket she fumbled for her keys. She beeped her car open and threw herself in the driver's seat. "I have to get home; everything will be okay if I can get home. Oh my God, I'm hearing things. I thought I heard that spider speak to me. What's worse, I was talking back. I must have a head injury; the fall must have been harder than I thought. Doctor — maybe I need a doctor. That's exactly what I need; I'll go to the emergency room."
Jane's car spit gravel as she backed up and sped out of the parking lot. "Not too fast," she reminded herself. "Don't drive too fast; these county roads are narrow and wet. Remember you have a head injury." What if I pass out before I get to the hospital? Her mind raced ahead even as she fought to keep her speed slow. Sitting forward in the seat she grasped the wheel with shaking hands. She had made it a point to locate all the important services when she arrived in town and knew the hospital was only about ten minutes away. "Drive slowly and concentrate on the road, you'll get there just fine," she coached herself as she maneuvered the SUV along the shiny black pavement.
The drive seemed like it took forever, but she managed to arrive without further incident. She parked the car and found the emergency room entrance without any trouble. She must have been a sight because the receptionist on duty pressed several buttons and immediately two nurses appeared out of nowhere.
She told the doctor she slipped on some slimy stones and banged her head — carefully omitting her conversation with a spider. She simply explained she wanted to be checked out in case there was some internal injury. There wasn't. The doctor told her even though she had a nasty bump, more than likely she had caught herself soon enough to prevent any real damage. He didn't see much evidence of a concussion, though there might be a slight one. Just in case, she wasn't to go to sleep for several hours and if, during that time, she experienced no nausea or dizziness, she would be fine. If she did, or if the pain got any worse, she was to come back.
He doesn't need to worry about me sleeping. There was no way she could close her eyes until she could find some plausible explanation for a talking spider. This wasn't one of those things one can shrug away and then toddle off to bed for a good night's sleep. She wouldn't be coming back to the hospital either, if she could help it. Her story had managed to escape any real scrutiny the first time, but she might not be so lucky the next time around. She could imagine the conversation.
"Why do you feel there must be something wrong?" the doctor would ask.
"Well, I heard this spider speaking to me right after I fell," Jane would answer.
"A spider you say. And this spider spoke to you?" the doctor would go on.
"Well, yes, that's why I'm worried," Jane would explain.
"Uh-huh. Nurse, would you draw Ms. Morgan's blood and have it tested for drugs and alcohol please, and ... transfer her to the 'quiet room'." She would end up in some loony bin or rehabilitation center somewhere deep in the woods and never be heard from again. They would fit her for a white coat and she wouldn't have to worry another moment about the purpose or meaning of life. Someone else would be making all her decisions for her. When friends and family found out about her little accident, they would just shake their heads and say, "I always knew there was something not quite right about her." Jane rubbed her hands over her face. Except for the white jacket it would be kind of like her life now. Someone else always seemed to have their hand on the control buttons.
The rest of her visit went smoothly and two hours, several x-rays and a bandage later, Jane was home, dry and sitting on the sofa. The opening monologue of a late-night talk show was in full swing, but she wasn't paying attention to the television. She didn't even miss the ice cream that had melted hours ago in the back seat of her car. There would be no artificial comfort tonight. Lost deep in thought, Jane was searching her mental bank for any plausible explanation for what she had seen and heard. Nothing came to mind.
Along about 4 a.m. Jane's thoughts turned from fear to curiosity. How could this have happened? How was she able to hear a spider speak? Did it really speak, or was it her imagination or some hallucinatory hangover from being unconscious? At 5:50 a.m. Jane decided she had to find some answers rather than wonder for the rest of her life. At 7:15, as the sun was beginning to rise, Jane was dressed and ready to revisit the scenic overlook. She wanted to be sure she was sane. She could live with it then. The whole incident would become one of those stories you told when the conversation got around to seeing ghosts or making contact with the other side. A strange but true offering one could relate, and then laugh about.
Jane ate one of the blueberry muffins she had purchased the day before. She'd experienced no nausea and the pain had faded to no more than a sore spot on her forehead. She was physically okay, but her sanity was definitely in question. Maybe it was a result of the internal conversation she had right before the fall. Giving up on any help from God was a shattering event. Realizing there was nothing here to guide her in life felt like the bottom of the barrel she had dropped into months ago. At least there is a bottom, Jane mused as she drove down the driveway to the main road: Beats the heck out of this constant free- fall through nothing. Even if there was no light at the end of the tunnel, at least she had found the tunnel's end.
The SUV seemed to find its way back to the overlook on its own. Jane had been so deep in thought she couldn't remember driving; her mind was focused on finding an explanation. She wondered if maybe that's why you saw people in institutions talking to trees or rocks. Maybe they'd found the end of the tunnel too and the realization was so profound they snapped. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Jane locked her purse in the car and made her way to the stone steps. She'd make this quick. She would go down to the spider-web, say hi, get no reply, and get out of there. Then she could put the entire episode down as a freak accident.
As Jane hit step number one she mused about the kind of story she might write about this experience. There may be a silver lining in this particular cloud. I could sell the article to some obscure magazine like Too Far Out There to be Believable or Nutcase Monthly. At least I could say I'd been published. At step number two Jane located the spider's web at the handrail's intersection of the vertical and horizontal pipes. Before she could get comfortable or even focus, she heard the same tiny voice that had plagued her thoughts all night.
"Welcome back. I knew you would come."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Strays by Jeanne Webster. Copyright © 2011 Jeanne Webster. Excerpted by permission of Personhood Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
What People are Saying About This
Through charming cultural and indigenous stories from the world of nature, Strays reminds us that we are never alone, and that separation is truly an illusion.--(James Twyman, bestselling author and Peace Troubadour)