Selling My Soul - Sherri L. Lewis

Скачать книгу

tion>

      Selling My Soul

      Sherri L. Lewis

       www.urbanchristianonline.net

      All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

      Table of Contents

      Title Page Dedication Acknowledgments One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-one Twenty-two Twenty-three Twenty-four Twenty-five Twenty-six Twenty-seven Twenty-eight Twenty-nine Thirty Thirty-one Thirty-two Epilogue Readers’ Group Questions UC HIS GLORY BOOK CLUB! What We Believe: Copyright Page

      Dedication

      To my write-or-die chick, Rhonda McKnight (Secrets and Lies, Dec 2009). Thanks for your invaluable help, advice, encouragement, and everything else you’ve always done for me as a sista, writer, friend.

      Acknowledgments

      Here I go again, thanking the same people since it hasn’t been that long since my last book came out and not much in my life has changed. This will be short.

      I thank God that He’s helping me day by day to realize my dream of being a full-time writer. Thanks for the ideas, the favor, the connections, and the faith to continue pressing into destiny.

      To my family—thanks for all you do to support my career as a writer. Words cannot express my gratitude.

      To Rhonda and Dee—thanks for the plotting session that birthed this book. I couldn’t have done it without you!

      To Grace—thanks so much for your help with the facts and feelings from your trip to Mozambique. You made me feel like I was there! I pray God hastens the day of your return.

      To Claire Hollywell—thanks so much for all the info you shared about Mozambique as well by e-mail and through your blog. May God bless your work there.

      To my literary godmother, Victoria Christopher Murray. Thanks for all you do. I mean everything!

      To Mel Burns and Attorney Alesia Hilliard-Smith. Thanks so much for all your help with the legal information.

      To my Bethel Atlanta family—thanks for all your love and support and for pushing me towards destiny.

      To all the wonderful book clubs, reviewers, MySpace, Facebook, and blogtalkradio friends that have done so much to make my previous titles a success. I appreciate your support!

      To my readers—I’ve been greatly moved by reports from missionary friends of the awesome move of God happening in various places all over the world. This book was based on info gained from a ministry I greatly admire in Mozambique. For more information, please check out Heidi and Rolland Baker of Iris Ministries at www.irismin.org.

      One

      The door to flight 1748 from Johannesburg, South Africa to Washington DC’s Reagan National airport opened, and for the first time in over two years, I stepped onto American soil. I couldn’t believe I was back.

      What I really couldn’t believe was that I didn’t want to be back. After such a long time away, I was excited about seeing my mom, my best friend, Monica, and maybe my baby sister. Other than that, I wanted to go back to Africa.

      I had actually thought about it. Come back, head up to Baltimore to spend a week or so with Moms, fly down to Atlanta to visit Monnie, and then book another flight back to what felt more like home to me than anywhere I had ever lived. And back to the man I had tried so hard not to fall in love with.

      The two years I spent in Mozambique had changed my life forever. What started out as a mission trip became an incredible life journey, and I wasn’t sure I could go back to life as usual in the States.

      Attention in the terminal, flight 1423 is now boarding for . . .

      The first thing I noticed when I walked off the plane was how fast everyone moved. The tangible sense of frenzied, chaotic, hurriedness unnerved me. While I walked at what felt like a normal pace, it seemed like everyone raced by me, bumping into me, giving me dirty looks for getting in their way. It was weird to hear everyone speaking English. I had gotten used to hearing Portuguese and tribal dialects.

      As I strolled toward customs, I couldn’t help but glance at the placard advertisements on the wall. Every ad seemed to have sexual undertones. What did a woman with long, sexy legs in a short, red dress with pouty lips have to do with life insurance? People whizzed by me dressed in designer suits that cost enough to feed an entire village for a month. They were talking on cell phones and not even taking the time to acknowledge the people they walked past. Rushing toward nothing.

      After a long trek from the gate, I sat on the floor in customs, exhausted from more than thirty hours of travel.

Скачать книгу