Wednesday, October 1, 2014

A Book Giveaway!

Some good news to report.  I have received my first box of books and my book is now available on  Kindle.   Unfortunately it is only available at this point, as an Ebook, the paperback version has not come through yet.  HOWEVER....Here on this blog only I am going to be giving away two signed books.    All you have to do is to comment on this post and from the comments, I will pick  one winner and will mail you a copy of the book.  I will be doing this twice.Once today, and one other day in the next week ...Keep checking here so you don't miss out on your second chance.


And here is the link on Amazon to my book:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=cynthia+lott+vogel+Treasures+from+Darkness

The book is also available on Barnes and Nobel.
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/cynthia-lott-vogel-Treasures-from-Darkness?store=allproducts&keyword=cynthia+lott+vogel+Treasures+from+Darkness

If you want a signed copy please email me at cynthialottvogel@gmail.com

The price for the signed paperback is $14 due to shipping costs.
Thank you for your patience in regard to making this book available.  I worked on it on and off for four years.  It is hard to believe that it is done and ready for purchase. 
Please share the excitement.  If you know someone who is mentally ill or the family of a mentally ill person , please tell them about this book....Better yet, order it for them!


Thursday, September 25, 2014

For the Joy




I was just reading the passage inn Hebrews 11 about Jesus, "Who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame….."
I was thinking about what “Enduring the cross” entailed.  I thought about one “simple” part of the tortures Jesus endured.   It says they pulled the beard out of his face.   Just mediate on that for a moment.    I’ve never  had   a beard, but I’m plucked my eyebrows…..and while that in no way compares to having the beard yanked from your face….I mean you can probably multiply that tiny pain several thousand times  and you might approach an understanding.    

Next came the crown of thorns; not little thorns but huge spikes of horrible pain which they pounded into his bleeding wounded head.
And we’ve (most of us) heard the description of a Roman flogging: leather whips with jagged metal and glass at the ends of the whip.  A beating that had killed lesser men...but our Lord endured.
Then: the nails pounded into his wrists…probably opening arteries  and again , unfathomable pain.  And what comes next is what sends horror racing through my veins: after he was nailed to the cross bar, they hoisted him with roped and yanked him up into the air as the main pole slammed in to the ground, yanking his wounded body so fiercely that every bone and joint became dislocated.  We know this by reading Psalm 22
14  My life is poured out like water,
    and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart is like wax,
    melting within me.
15 My strength has dried up like sunbaked clay.
    My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
    You have laid me in the dust and left me for dead.
16 My enemies surround me like a pack of dogs;
    an evil gang closes in on me.
    They have pierced my hands and feet.
17 I can count all my bones.
    My enemies stare at me and gloat.

I have six times endured the agony of a dislocated hip.  I am pretty tough when it comes to pain, but that pain leaves me sniveling, groaning, and when they moved me--screaming.  As I laid for hours in a cubicle in the Emergency Room waiting for the anesthesiologist and the ortho doctor to come, I waited in shuddering pain…sweating and calling aloud for Jesus to help me…and there came the clear thought of Ps. 22:14….And I realized that Jesus suffered even worse pain.  Every single bone was torn from its socket and I believe this happened when they swung that crossbeam up into  the air and slammed the main pole of the cross into a hole in the ground….Then came the agony of the nails in his feet.

As I read this too I understood one more agony.  Jesus was completely dehydrated.  He had lost sweat and blood and was thirsty in a manner that none of us can imagine.  Although, suffering Sjogrens as I do, there are times when my tongue is dry as paper and completely adhered to the roof of my mouth.  It is not a good feeling.  And breathing through that dryness is painful.

We will never fully understand the agonies of the cross.  And thank you Jesus that you took those blows that were intended for my back.  Thank you that I will never fathom that pain; the jeers; the thirst---and most chilling of all: the sense that God the Father turned his back on his suffering Son and left him there with literally the “weight of the world” on his shoulders…The weight?  Our sins.  And all the hours of anguish we spend after committing an abominable sin…the regret; the pain of having failed God.  He took my guilt times billions: the weight of the sins of the whole world: of Hitler, Idi Amin, of Sadam Hussen--and of his own children.  He paid for every sin…although it is true that some people commit the abomination of rejecting what Jesus did on their behalf.  And he prayed for them too.  “Father, Forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.”

Heb. 12: 2 Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne.

Because of the joy to come, he took on the cross…disregarding the agony ...because it was for those hours that he came.  His whole life was culminated in those hours of sheer horror.  He learned obedience by suffering..  Maybe I too can learn obedience from my suffering.  Maybe he is perfecting me by these hours and days of suffering.  My suffering doesn’t come close to his, but the joy before me is the same…So I fix my eyes on the prize ahead, casting off all that would hinder me, I run the race for the prize before me…
Thank you Jesus that every horrible sin for which I have wept is buried there on that cross, erased by the flooding of his blood . My sin is no longer visible to the eyes of God.  Thank you Jesus.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

UPDATES

As for my book, I'm very excited to report that in roughly ten days I will hold the first ten of books. "And how is that good for me?" you may ask.  Well I am going to be offering two free books on the day after I receive my books, I will let you know that they are now available....and the first ten books are going to be signed by the author (moi!) and will be sold privately---the price of the book is $10.99...either to someone who can send money to my PayPal account or if I know you personally I will accept cash or a check.  For those of you who do not know me and who wish to purchase the book, you will find it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Xulon's websites.  Keep checking here and I will post the links to my book on those sites right here.

I just also noticed that the blog has passed it's 80,400 visitor count....I'm very excited by that.
You will take this journey with me...the first few weeks as a new author...my hardships. My joys.  My prayers. My pain.  Yes, pain will be a factor as it always is.  And now, pain bids me to end here and get in bed.  So goodnight my friends.  Thank you for bringing me this far.


Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Treasures are on their Way!

I received word this morning that my corrections to the galleys that I submitted will be complete soon and at that point the book will be available on Amazon, Barnes and Nobel and Xulon Press's websites.  As soon as the book is available I will make sure you know as well.  Here is a tidbit to whet your taste buds.



The Beginnings
The ambulance lights undulated against the curtain's edge.  Two nonchalant uniformed figures unloaded the stretcher and began to loosen the restraints that held the appendages of the new patient.
She was back. Word spread like starling chatter among staff and patients. 
They led her to her room conveniently across from “The Quiet Room” and deposited her bag of belongings with a soft plop onto the bed.
High heeled black boots and large black sunglasses remained her uniform despite injunctions to remove them. She began to pace, staccato steps, the boots clapping the floor like applause accompanying her mounting panic.
 Maria-the-Heavy came in: heavy because she was the head nurse, heavy because of years of overfeeding and indolence, heavy because of the sinking pit she left in the stomach of the new arrival.
“Welcome back,” said Maria in a voice singularly devoid of welcome. “Give me your sunglasses and take off your boots—you know the drill.”
The pacer halted and considered the implication of those demands: soul-theft—right through her iris blue irises.  And the boots, she needed that rhythm to build the barrier around her.  Every clap was the slap of a brick being laid about her, keeping them at bay and her being intact because right now, she could guarantee that body parts were about to detach and then how could Humpty Dumpty have any hope of integrity at all?

Maria stuck her head out the door of the room and called to several staff who were waiting, anticipating this inevitable moment.

“Cynthia needs a little help with her shoes and sunglasses.”
They surrounded her slowly, warily, encroaching step by cautious step: like hyenas circling a lioness.  Caution, trepidation, and anticipation all dripped from their fangs.
With the suddenness of a tightly wound spring releasing, the lioness bolted for the door, quarter-backing her way through the wall of jackals. With the speed bred of a thousand encounters, the buzzer was rung, and the room filled with muscles flexed on squat men who lived for such moments...An injection appeared and, despite writhing screams, found its home on her thigh.
As she sank, deflating, the hands then removed her shoes, glasses and clothing.  Gowning her in a hospital robe they potato-sacked her into the room across the hall, where she would remain until the medicines had their way with her: reducing her, ironing out wrinkles in her gray matter, fattening her up for the kill and untwisting her words—although the word salad was truly spectacular.
Days later-- weeks maybe?--the door to the Quiet Room opened and spewed its protégé.  Subdued, dead-eyed, leaden bodied-- already thickening in the middle--- she wandered the halls apparition-like, acknowledging the cohabitants by a minute head nod and a split second glance at the eyes. It was a secret society of welcome: ranging from angry disinterest, to too friendly back-patting welcome-backing.
She remained silent, mouth taut at the corners.  Fear had already accomplished its incineration in her bowels.  This was the last stop.  The last platform before the Crazy Train dropped her at her final destination: Greystone.  That's where the doctor had told her husband she belonged; that she was, “hopelessly ill.” Even in her confused rage she knew that the word “hopeless” was a misnomer.  God doesn't make “hopeless” people and there is no situation so far wrong that he cannot right it.