I have finally figured out why the luck of the Irish is not a good thing. Most of the Irish had terrible luck. Has anybody ever heard of the Great Potato Famine? It lasted for years. There is still unrest in Ireland. They are not lucky people.
Why do you think the Irish give us so many great writers? Writing comes from a life that is not sunshine and lollipops–what a ho hum story that would be. I’m only a quarter Irish, but I do have the luck of the Irish.
I have three dogs and a cat. Do you think they are normal? No, we got a little rescue Chihuahua, Hope, and she poisoned my sweet animals and made them evil. Now my 80+ pound monster dog thinks he’s a puppy and has started to jump on me and crawl in my lap like Hope does. Even our cat is obnoxious for attention, and he was just fine without me for 7 years before Hope came!
Which brings me to my latest novel. I started writing this about 15 years ago, but I knew it was too dark to stand alone, so it’s the sequel to my love story “A Place Called Grace”. The kids in the Village are based on some kids that I taught years ago, kids that had little chance to become healthy, productive adults. The whole hating drugs thing? Just look at my devotional, “31 Prayers for the Addict I Love” and you will understand. I’m normally a sweet, happy person, but there have been times when shooting a drug dealer sounded like a fun way to spend my time. Until I realized that a lot of those kids I loved were also drug dealers. Talk about dumping ice water on my fire!
So, I can’t promise a happy, fuzzy book for Christmas. I can promise my story will make you think, and maybe it will make us pray more often for those poor kids who have nobody to stick up for them. This Christmas, I’m praying for more love–and a lot more mercy.