When writing A Christmas Room, my own life often wove its way into the story, the characters, and their experiences.
Isn’t that often the way? It is with me. Although my book is a work of fiction, it’s brimming with the same faith I carry in my heart. It wraps around me like a warm blanket, and it’s a blanket I share with my characters.
My parents are both in heaven. I still feel the sting of their absence. I talk to them on the other side as if they are right here, listening to me, well, because I believe they are.
I believe my parents are with Jesus, just as Sarah believes hers are, too. That goes for everyone I’ve loved and lost. They live on. I know that. That’s the hope Jesus gives us. His promise.
But, what I wouldn’t give to spend a glorious hour with them, just one. What I wouldn’t give to talk to them, see them, hug them. Just one…more…time.
And that ache remains, because I’m human, no matter how deeply my faith reaches into those empty spaces. That ache propelled me to leap into a world where, for a precious slice of time, the impossible becomes possible—a piece of heaven opens in a small town, in a farmhouse, in A Christmas Room.
I hope you enjoy taking this journey with me.
God Bless,
Ellen
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