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Iâm not sure God uses irony to make a point but maybe . . .
For example:
I was born in Abington Hospital on Easter.
43 years later . . .
My dad died in Abington Hospital on Christmas.
These two days â the most important, in fact the basis for, days in Christianity.
Obviously the day of my birth is not one I remember, but my mother does. As the story goes, I was not due for several days but Mother went into labor and called the doctor. It was her third and she knew time was of the essence. Back in the day doctors were more personally involved. He came and picked her up and took her to the hospital.
To be clear, this was not necessarily the norm but my dad had to stay home with my two older brothers and it was early, early Easter Sunday morning.
Because this delivery was long, long ago, my mother was sedated and not until she awoke later, did she realize she had a daughter. đ She was overjoyed after having two sons. And, of course, after seeing me, whatâs not to love! đ đ đ
It was 6am Easter Sunday morning. The church people showed up later in the day bringing her the most beautiful Easter flowers from church that day.
Fast forward 43 years.
My dad had been sick for a while and I got the call to come be with my mother as this was probably the time to âsay goodbyeâ to him.
They were in Philadelphia and I was in St. Louis.
It turned into a three-week vigil.
Finally I told my mother I had to go home to my hubby and two teenaged kids. It was three days before Christmas. My brother flew in and we passed the baton. It turned out that it was the last day Dad was conscious. I remember getting on the plane and calling him â one last time â to tell him I loved him. I then flew home, brokenhearted. He was 71 years old.
(That year was probably my first on-line shopping experience. Having not yet shopped for the kidâs Christmas gifts (and no matter what the age, kids expect to see gifts on Christmas morning đ ) I ordered on-line and paid extra to expedite shipping. No Amazon prime then. âč)
On Christmas Day, back in Philadelphia, my dad had been unconscious for three days and my brother and mother decided to leave the hospital to get fresh air and have a nice Christmas dinner somewhere. However, on Christmas Day, not many choices so it was Chinese for them.
Having no cell phones, they didnât get the news until they returned to the hospital. My dad had passed away.
We all flew back for the funeral, and afterwards, settled back into life as we knew it.
For the longest time I was dismayed that for all the Christmases to come, Iâd associate it with my dadâs death.
Then I got older.
It wasnât until probably 2 decades later that I realized the irony of the hospital and special holidays my dad and I shared.
And I thank God I can focus, not on my birth and my dadâs death, but on His birth Christmas and His resurrection Easter which means Iâll not only be with God when I die, but with my dad! PTL
An organization called Readers’ Favorite was kind enough to give my book a review. This is part of it:
“Papa, Where Are You? is a wonderful, easy-to-read story that takes readers on a journey that young children should never experience. Author PJ Easterbrook invites you on her journey through sadness, uncertainty, and then triumph. She does an excellent job telling about the adventure at Grandma’s house one summer with the two sisters. The description in the first chapter allowed me to imagine the grand house with the wraparound porch before I even saw the photograph. I enjoyed reading about their Halloween costumes and felt excited as if I was at the neighborhood trick-or-treating block party. Unfortunately, I also shared in the sad news and fought the urge to mourn along with the rest of the family. What kind of man would leave his daughters when they need him the most – without saying goodbye? . . . There were many times when I didn’t want to put this book down. Either I felt their sadness and disappointment or I was thrilled that they got their well-deserved happy ending. Papa, Where Are You? is a very moving book.”
Reviewed by Barbara Fanson for Readers’ Favorite
Be sure to read more reviews on my author website by clicking below.
First of all, I feel major relief that itâs over â the first one, that is. đ
I researched how to do it, what to bring, where to have it and who to invite.
I went to other book signings to see the action.
One might think whatâs all the fuss? Set up a card table, pile on some books, and go at it!
Sounds good but Iâm an over-planner, insecure as I am.
And there actually are proper preferred guidelines/suggestions.
Google probably will give me some kind of award for âgooglingâ the most on one subject! But itâs interesting how many different opinions there are out there.
Of course I used every social media sight I had to convey the time and place. I even designed and hung a couple of posters in various spots. For those not on social media with me, I handed out a few post cards.
Prior to the day, being a list person, I made mine.
That day, I packed up and headed out. My friends Jean and Becky were my right-hand  (wo)men! I couldnât have done it without them. Well maybe I could have but I wouldnât want to! ï
Set up was easier and quicker than I had hoped for, and we were ready!
Friends from church along with passerbyâs came in and out over the two-hour span. I felt the love! I even met another new author.
All in all, I sold 19 books. Not bad for two hours.
Now I can relax . . . before I start planning the next event. đ
Want your own copy of Papa, Where Are You? click here: Papa, Where Are You?
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Today I’m sharing an excerpt of an editorial review associated with Readers View. This is an organization that offers reviews especially to those who are self-published. The catch is that once reviewed, it will be published to various social media sights.
Good or Bad!
I’ve actually scrolled through various reviews to make sure this was correct and not just all sugar and spice. While always professional, the reviews are well written and honest.
Good or Bad!
It was a gamble but with enough hopefully honest reviews up to this point, I submitted my book to them and held my breath.
It came back yesterday and, honestly, I was blown away. It was kind and accurate to the plot – in detail. I was feeling quite humbled and yet affirmed. I’ve posted the beginning and ending of the review so as not to give away the entire story to those yet to read it. đ
“Truth is indeed stranger than fiction, and this bizarre story captured my complete attention, invoking unbelievable strong emotions in me from the very start. The story is well written and captivating, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the two little girls and pray for their well and pray for their well-being. . .
“How in the world does something like this happen? It really causes one to think how every little decision we make completely alters the course of existence.
“Kudos to PJ Easterbrook, for putting to paper a story that needed telling, “Papa, Where Are You?” will remain in the heart and on the mind long after the story is finished.” – Reviewed by Sheri Hoyte for Reader Views
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This is a photograph of “Papa” with his three children – the only photo known to exist. The quality was not good enough to be placed in the actual book.
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Click on button below where you can order “Papa, Where Are You?” in paperback or digital store of your choice.
âWhen one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully     upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.â            Alexander Graham Bell
It isnât the first time, and I have no doubt in my mind that itâll be the last. A proofreader and an editor from a prominent Christian publishing company agreed to read my book. (Yes, I wrote a book. More about that later.) Bottom line is that they liked it but was not what their company âdoesâ. Not sure what that means. Maybe a brush off? Well, obviously a brush off! But they both said they liked it so Iâm going with that! There are other fish (publishers) in the sea!
Moving on!!!
Well, first to backtrack a bit, I experienced a huge upheaval in my life (and heart) last year. I wasnât sure what my direction would be or where it would take me next. It âhappenedâ that I listened to a Dobson show on the radio one day, something I rarely do. There was an author on the program speaking about her book. It fascinated me.  I ordered it. I read it. I was reminded that way back in my mind, I intended to write a story about relatives of mine, such as this book was.
So I wrote a book.
Everyone probably has a âbookâ in them. Iâve always wanted to write and dabbled in poetry years ago. The first one I remember writing is
                          My mother loves me all the time, she keeps me very near.                                She says I am the sweetest; I think she is a dear.                                    Sheâs always talking tenderly, sheâs always being kind.                                 Sheâs always being loving at ever the best of time.
I was probably in 4th grade!
When I was 20ish, and in the pit of rejection, I remember penning this:
                     It rained tonight, the windows leaked. I didnât care, I was glad.                          Because God was crying for me, I had no need to be sad. . .
Not Shakespeare, clearly. Just me! I see writing as a form of communication, a way of release, of thoughts on paper, or more of thoughts that I didnât know I had, showing up on paper!  Writing is therapeutic and healing.  There seems to be no wrong way to write. Unless one wishes to be published, of course.
My goal in writing my book was not necessarily to be published. I had a story to tell, a family story, a true compelling story of times gone by. I had legal documentation to back up and build my story. And I had the time to tell it.
So my book was born.
My query letter sums it up like this:
âThis is the account of two brave little girls covering five traumatic years of their lives as they struggle to find an adult they can trust, sort out the lies, and rely on God for their strength.â
Intrigued? I donât want to give away the story. Yet.  Because some, whose opinions I value, have read it and encouraged me to seek out publication, I will do so.
Iâll just pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again!
pj,your friend 