Photo by Matias North on Unsplash

Photo by Matias North on Unsplash


Click HERE to read from the beginning.


“I’m taking a break from selling my book for the rest of the month. Other work is falling behind, and I need to get caught up.” I sent the email down the internet highway to my marketing rep’s inbox.

When I walked into the bedroom a “1” was flashing on my phone’s answering machine.

“Hello, Teena. This is Liz from Hosanna Church. Would you like to sell your book at Imagine Christmas this weekend?”

A voice emanated from under the quilt on my bed. “People go to Imagine Christmas for the show and free stuff. You won’t sell any books.”

I flipped back the quilt covering my husband. “Probably not, but the event draws a large crowd. It’s a lot of exposure.” 

I already had plans for tomorrow. I called a friend to see if she would man the book table for me on Friday. Not available. I had prayed God would open doors for me to sell Finding Faith. Do I turn down an obvious answer to prayer because it’s not convenient? I canceled my plans and called Liz.

Liz said they would set up a table for me, but I’ve learned not to depend on what I am told. When organizing an event miscommunication is the norm, not the exception. My son put my table in the car. I added my books and marketing materials. Satisfied I had everything, I shut the trunk.

Games were being set up in the parking lot when I arrived. I drove to the far end of the lot where a few cars were parked and walked into the church. No need to drag my table into the church if they set one up for me. They didn’t. The event coordinator recommended I set up outside in the food tent. The sun was setting, and the tent dimly lit, but I don’t argue with event coordinators.

I set up the table I brought from home close to the sound board so I could pilfer electricity if my Ipad battery ran low. After arranging everything neatly on the table, I noticed the slant of the table on the uneven ground. “I hope the books won’t slide off,” I mumbled. They did. Two damaged books under the legs solved that problem.

Sitting in the dark tent, regretting I’d come I decided to check the money bag. I’d forgotten it at home. I can’t sell books without change. Asking my husband to bring the bag wasn’t an option. He had taken our sons out to eat. I had no choice but make the one hour round trip to get the bag.

A police car blocked the one and only exit out of the parking lot. I stuck my head out of the car window.

“Officer, how do we get out?”

“We can’t let cars in or out, too many people in the parking lot. It’s a hazard.”

“Where are people supposed to park that come to the event?”

He pointed to a side road. I hastily explained my problem and promised to park on the side road when I returned. He released me from captivity. On the way home, I purposed to have a positive attitude. This will work in my favor. I will bring my desk lamp back and light up my table in the dark tent.

I return to Hosanna with the money, lamp and glad I’d exchanged my heels for tennis shoes. The street I was directed to park on was lined with cars on both sides as far as the eye could see. I found a parking spot and began the long trek back to the church. The area was not fenced, so I took a short cut through a ditch, walked over a small hill and navigated through the throng of children playing on the inflatables.

I set the lamp on my table in triumph and clicked the switch. The bulb flickered and died. At this point, I doubted I would sell any books. The women at the registration table agreed to give my bookmarks to everyone who registered. The exposure was a measure of consolation as people might buy the book online.

The MC of the Christmas show stopped at my table. “Have you sold any books?”

“No,” I said. “I seldom make sales unless I am allowed to speak about the book or read an excerpt.”

“Are you coming to the show?”

“Yea, most of the people are inside. I may as well.”

“We’ll make it happen.”

I walked into the building to standing room only. Ten minutes before the show began, the MC introduced me and handed me the microphone.

The not so promising beginning ended well. Even Santa Claus bought a book.

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