Here’s another inspiring story given to us by the beautiful, inspiring Cindy Hanson. Cindy, thank you so much for sharing these stories with my readers. I really have enjoyed having you on my blog.
Based on the copyright date and what mom said about the future, this book is proving God’s word without much human intervention.
Miracles occur, and I believe.
I invite you to take a journey to the afterlife and back through Mom’s book!
My favorite question during book interviews is: How did you get started writing? The short answer is that in 1991 my mother died. Some people dream of being authors; my writing began as what could be described as a nightmare! However, as she died, mom experienced what would be called a Christian near death experience (NDE) or miracle full of prophecy that HAS or will come true in my lifetime. My witness became my first nonfiction and is entitled Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down.
While writing my first book, I cataloged mom’s predictions. Even though she forcefully informed me that God guided her assumptions-that portion of her nonsense chatter does not necessarily prove that The Lord took part in her prattle. Her testimony standing alone cannot confirm that the Master of the Universe shared His wonderful news with us as a reminder of how close He is to our human condition. Logically, some might say that I tampered with that data to enhance the recollection of those last days with mom. I will give you that possible explanation; however, remarkably, some predictions occurred many years after the initial publication and copyright date of my first book. Thus, the proof of the power of The Almighty and His promises came into being without this writer’s help; the book is proving itself to be a valid part of The Master’s will. Most of mom’s prophesy materialized in the past eighteen plus years. There were three prophesies left when my first book was copyrighted; they are a wedding, a baby from heaven and a child named John.
My mother died more than twenty years ago. While here, she lived in tune with The Lord and didn’t blame Him for her troubles including her slow march to death from her breast cancer. Maybe, if she’d gone for mammograms routinely, she would have lived longer. Regardless of that neglect, because of her relationship with Her Maker, He arrived on the scene as illustrated in this book. Many minor miracles and messages were presented to me. With the help of The Holy Spirit, I wrote it all down for posterity.
The Introduction or Foreword from my first book shows the reason I began writing this book and other Christian-based testimonies from God.
I Will Survive
When I tell people about my recent losses, they just reel back and ask me how I am surviving it. I simply look at them and say, “I don’t know.” While my parents may have left some pennies behind for the heirs to squabble and fuss over, my mother left me the story of her journey beyond this world’s process of dying. She asked me over and over again if I would be okay the day after she left. With all the strength of my soul, I affirmed her question by saying, “I think so.”
In the veil of darkness, at 2:24 a.m. on Thursday, Jan. 24, 1991, my mother’s body gave up its last round with breast cancer. In the gloom of night, at 9:15 p.m. on Tuesday, Feb. 19, 1991, an emergency call came into my house from one of my father’s neighbors. My father had killed himself. After a routine mammogram on March 5, 1991, my doctor told me that I had an irregular mass and needed more tests. The tests revealed that it was not cancer, but I found myself thoroughly exhausted. How much can the human soul take?
One day, while at church, I heard a sermon about an African tribal leader who lost his very young son to death. The priest remarked, “At the funeral, this father seemed joyous, in spite of his loss.” Continuing, “When I asked him why he didn’t mourn the son’s death, this leader said that he could not question his God’s will.”
Through primitive faith, the tribal leader taught the learned priest the meaning of the Sermon on the Mount, “Thy will be done.”
The missionary priest said, “This leader of men took his orders from God. He didn’t live by, ‘My will be done.’ This man’s total acceptance of God’s will gave him the inner peace to accept his child’s death.”
This missionary priest told the congregation he wished for faith that strong. As I wrote this book, I prayed for the same strength.
![Mom’s_on_the_Roof_an_Cover_for_Kindle[1]](https://jbournesblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/momc3a2e282ace284a2s_on_the_roof_an_cover_for_kindle1.jpg)
Sometimes events occur in life that do not make sense until we reflect back on them. Some of the things I will share with the reader are translations so that they will make better sense. Others are events exactly as they occurred. Many of God’s mysteries are beyond human words and concepts. Thus, I will interpret ideas into more fluid ones for the reader. Some of the translations were easy enough for me to handle alone. For other communications, I needed a parish priest to explain the symbolic idea to me. In God’s will, my mother delivered every key for each door God would allow me to access. However, I had to find each door and open it.
The outcome of this story is not just death, but it is a story of peace. In your darkest hours, I hope this book can generate the strength you need to survive a loss. If you need to widen your faith in a loving, caring God, I pray these words can help you. Remembering I lived through it all, I hope to deliver courage as well as faith, hope, and love.
My favorite phrase is “I am surviving!” And so will you.
An excerpt from Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down follows.
We (a Hospice worker and I) went down the hall to find her asleep. Her eyes were ajar. “The sleep of death,” the nurse explained. “Stay close to the house because it is happening. Your mother is ready to leave.” Mom overheard our whispers and woke up.
“I am at the doors of heaven, again. I have passed over the waters and am at the doors of heaven.” My mother wanted to sing and pray.
“Margie is on her way. We can do that when she gets here.”
She wanted to know why Mike, my brother, wasn’t there. “I told him to bring two bottles of water. I need them, now.” Telling me she was on the other side and couldn’t come back, mom kept waiting for me to understand these messages.
“Where is Margie?” mom asked again. “Where is Mike?” I informed her that Mike was home, asking should I call him. She simply shook her head and noted, “Mike is always late.” She asked where Debbie, my older sister, had been. I told her Debbie was in Key West but had telephoned often. She told me to tell Debbie and everyone who was late that she loved them.
In her final moments, my mother admitted she even loved Debbie. My soul screamed out, “YES! Way to go, mom.”
Repeatedly, she said, “I am on the other side of the line and can’t come back to help you with the kids.” Pointing in the air, “Now, I am here. There is the water between us. So, I can’t come back from this side of the line. Now, you take care of the kids. There are the kids! Now, there is Julie Hanson, Jenny Hanson, Stacey and John.”
My mother told me a secret about a bride and groom. We should all throw rice at the bride and the groom. Or, was it throw ice? Ice had become her lifesaver. When she was parched, we’d feed her ice. We’d put it on her feverish body. It was refreshing to her. Thus, she wanted the bride and groom to have ice thrown on them.
While she revealed other secrets about the future, I repeated them back to her making sure I got them right. I was like a parrot trying to make sense of it all. One of her heirs will have a baby from heaven. The name is Mary. Another will have a son named John. One will marry again. This time happily. To keep these predictions from being forced into existence, I will not tell you exactly whom she attached to each event.
Continuing, mom insisted that a person named Margaret or Mary was related to this cancer episode in our life. I thought my mother meant our Aunt Mary, who died from cancer at least ten years before that night. This lady was really a very elderly cousin that out of respect we called aunt. Wondering about the significance of Patricia and Mary, I had to find Patricia. The same persistence in my soul that made me long for the Holy Water (from Lourdes) caused the search for Patricia to begin.
“Who is this person named Patricia?”
After this conversation, I went to the rest room. Upon re-entering the room, mom wanted to know, “Was there ice in the bathroom? Was there ice in the bathroom? Does the bathroom have ice?”
Booming back at her, “Come on! You just like to hear yourself talk! If I went to the kitchen or living room, I’d probably come back to hear you question about the ice being there.” Ice became her thread of life. We fed it to her by the bag full in these days. “You just like your own voice.”
“Right!” she admitted.
When Margie finally arrived, I was too tired. Therefore, I left her to sing and pray with our mother and the nurse.
According to Margie, they talked about another baby from heaven named Regina. They talked about salmon that mom ate at age ten.
“It tasted so good, like fish from heaven,” Margie retold this event mimicking mom’s voice inflection and gestures.
Reaching in the air, she caught a heavenly salmon and wanted my sister to tell Stacey and me to eat and enjoy it. Obviously, she was still worried about the two of us.
On my way home that night, I saw a friend’s light on, so I knew she was awake. Stopping the car, I knocked at her door. As I arrived, this friend was just preparing tea. She offered me a cup of herbal tea. Usually, I turn down exotic teas but I was ready for company.
Sitting down to sip the tea, I informed her, “The end is nearer today than ever.”
You can read the whole story in the paperback or e-book version of Mom’s on the Roof and I Can’t Get Her Down available at Amazon and Kindle as well as Smashwords and its affiliates KOBO, Sony, Barnes and Noble, etc.
About Cindy Hanson
I work for GOD! Is she crazy or telling the truth? What I mean to say is that I write many nonfiction books that are really just scribing the history of His stories. My tales are Christian-based; at least one of those books points directly to heaven. Most of the time, I explain how bad situations and good ones have the potential to bring hope and love along with stronger faith.
My writing started after a major life change or trauma. In fact, my favorite question during book interviews is: How did you get started writing? The short answer is that in 1991 my mother died. Some people dream of being authors; my writing began as what could be described as a nightmare! However, as she died, mom experienced what would be called a Christian near death experience (NDE) or miracle. My nonfiction witness became Mom’s on the Roof, and I Can’t Get Her Down by Cynthia Meyers-Hanson.
Since then, I diversified into the other books and genres; I continue to toy with writing. I’ve co-authored or compiled several other divine tales. Meanwhile, I have ghostwritten many novels under the pen name Sydney S. Song. I use a pseudonym so that people know when my books are telling the truth and when I am fibbing (a bit). Recently, I’ve produced many picture books for children. I also compile collections and anthologies filled with true short stories from the Divine to mundane including humorous tales.
In real life, I’m a friendly Floridian, born and raised in Miami’s megalopolis. I currently live a bit further north with my husband. We are semi-retired. Our children are out of the house; some are married with their own children. We love outdoor activities such as boating and swimming at the pool, springs or beach.
My author site on Amazon includes my paperbacks and Kindles.
My other author site includes sections for my book genres as well as a blog and video section (the videos are mini movies as book trailers). This site also has my contact information.
Smashwords includes all other e-book providers and formats used for my books including Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo, etc.
Check out my other blog on Blogspot.
Other contact information
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