Spiritual Experiences in a Slave Cabin

I was in Charleston last week, soaking in the history. I like South Carolina's attitude. Did you know that S.C. was the first colony to declare independence from Britain? Did you know that they were the first to succeed fro the Union? Did you know that their motto is: "Don't Tread on Me"? Did you know that I had a religious experience in the slave cabin pictured above?

Well, I did. I cried.

All week, I was surrounded by 7th grade girls, and I loved it. But they were with me. All. The. Time. I don't mean to brag, but I had some fans. I kept telling them that they were allowed to sightsee by themselves, but they always said they'd rather stick with me. Then at night when  thought I could have quiet time in our bunks, I always had two or three of them sitting on my bed, waiting for me to hang out. All I wanted on this trip was to visit some sights from the Civil War, ride in a carriage, and see a ghost. I never expected to be crying alone in a slave cabin.

For once, the girls weren't by my side. Walt had called them all in for a group photo, but I stayed in the cabins, wanting to speak with the people who had once lived there. And they talked to me. Not with words, or rattling ghost chains, but with peace.

I wrote The South Star over a year ago, finished it right before my life went bang. The road to publishing has been filled with potholes and hang ups. It's given me hope, only to uproot it like a weed. I have doubts. So many doubts. About religion, about prayers, about love. So many things seem to be slipping away from me.

My book is about a world where the South prevailed and still exists today. The Confederacy is stuck in 1862, and there I was, standing in a spot where slaves had lived their lives. Where they had known despair, and joy, and love, and hate. Where they had been born, had died, had cooked and cleaned, had screamed and laughed. I was there with them, with the characters from my books, and they were whispering to me. There are a couple of scenes from the book that are set in the slave quarter of Brierfield's plantation. I was transported to a world I created, a world I sought refuge in when my own world fall apart. Abram and Banner stood beside me on the ancient floorboards made from live oaks. Brig was pass-out-drunk on the bed filled with pine needles and moss. Gunner was outside, practicing his saber techniques. They were real. And they told me that the rest of the world will know them soon, too. They don't want me to give up because they have so much to say.

To be honest, I've had a hard time wanting to speak to God lately. But He was there, too, reaffirming to me that He still listens, still loves me. That He is still working on my side. If I have faith, just a little while longer, my dreams will come true. Success will be mine. I just have to believe.