I sat staring at the computer screen in total disbelief! It couldn’t be. My mouth hung open, my brain trying to digest what my eyes were telling it. Earlier in the day, I had sat with five boys–three eight-year-olds, and two twelve-year-olds. We had been encouraged to “watch for God”. Vacation Bible School had kicked off with a bang. The kids were excited to explore “Mt. Everest” by going to our different events. In Kid Vid Cinema, we are told to watch for “God sightings”, events in our every day life that show us that God cares, provides, protects, and loves us. I had gone through my afternoon with nothing. I hadn’t shared the good news of Jesus with anyone, I hadn’t prayed with anyone, and for all intents and purposes my life was no different than the average person walking around–until I read the computer screen!

In our Bible time, we had been encouraged to share what we needed God to fix. I was too insecure to share with these boys how my book, Dragon’s Future, was suppose to go on pre-order, but then we found out that my publisher doesn’t put first-time authors on pre-order! What were we suppose to do? My book manager didn’t like any of the options left. So, I didn’t say anything. The boys shared how they needed chicken wings, a brother needed a job, and Camp Fircroft needed to get the sheetrock finished in time for camp. The boys snickered at the seemingly small thing of God caring about chicken wings, but I prayed about it anyway.

Most Americans believe in a god. The variables are whether that god cares about people or not. A few believe that there is only one God and that He cares deeply about His creation–even the little things. This was brought into sharp focus yesterday afternoon as I sat staring at the computer screen. Somehow, my publisher made an exception to the rule! My book, Dragon’s Future, is on amazon on pre-order! I hadn’t voiced my thought to anyone. I had told my manager that I would go with whatever she decided. I had no hope of my book going onto amazon; yet, there it was! I now get to tell those eight- and twelve-year-olds how I should have been more like Hunter who wasn’t afraid to ask for chicken wings.