As a reader, reviewer, writer, and promoter it gives me great pleasure to finally be able to share the following with you.
I wrote this review back in the fall shortly after this book came out.
I was not at that time able to share it with you because at that time the book was not available on NLS.
That has since changed, and I cannot encourage you strongly enough to read this book.
You should know I don’t promote material I don’t like so in no way is this review tainted with the promise of payment.
I cannot yet speak to the narration of this book as I have not yet read it from NLS.
That will soon change.
Mrs. Campbell tells me the narration is not bad.
I’m so very proud!
I’ve just finished Where Sheep May Safely Graze.
This is, the second time reading for me.
The following is a slightly edited letter I wrote to the author, and below that is the book information.
I cannot encourage you strongly enough to pick up a copy of this most awesome book.
Not since the Mitford Series have I read such a delightful book, and had its message speak so deeply to me.
I’d originally read this book for the soul purpose of giving a review.
This time when I read, I had prayer each time I read, and asked to be shown the message meant for me as an individual reader that was surely locked within the pages, just waiting to come out and speak to my heart.
All throughout the book, as I read about the love of God, and the constant faith of those who believe, I found myself praying about different things in my life.
One thing kept coming back to me over and over again.
As the book neared its end, I found myself in tears, on my knees, praying and asking God for something I’ve been afraid to pray for, for a long many years.
I had, closed my heart’s door to certain things in my life. Convinced myself I did not need those things. Could do without them, and that I was happy just as I was, but it was a lie, is a lie, and I could do that no longer.
I want to thank you, Mrs. Phyllis Campbell for writing this book, and for allowing me the privilege of promoting it to others.
I thank you for your faith, and for your courage and ability to write such a book of faith, and love.
May you be truly blessed with tons of book orders, and may this book end up on the top ten bestseller list, so that all may know its beauty, humor, and most of all love.
May you be truly blessed for sharing your gift as a writer with those who would but read your work.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Phyllis Staton Campbell, who was born blind, writes about the world she knows best. She calls on her experience as teacher of the blind, peer counselor and youth transition coordinator. She says that she lives the lives of her characters: lives of sorrow and joy; triumph and failure; hope and despair. That she and her characters sometimes see the world in a different way, adds depth to the story. She sees color in the warmth of the sun on her face, the smell of rain, the call of a cardinal, and God, in a rainbow of love and grace.
Although she was born in Amherst County, Virginia, she has lived most of her life in Staunton, Virginia, where she serves as organist at historic Faith Lutheran church, not far from the home she shared with her husband, Chuck, who waits beyond that door called death.
Pastor Jim and Amy see their future as a palate of vibrant color, until a bullet shatters the symmetry and they see the will of God.
ABOUT THE BOOK
When Jim, the pastor of a prestigious city church, is blinded in Iraq, he and his organist wife, Amy, find their faith challenged. Not only must they adjust to Jim’s blindness and a new marriage, but to the loss of his pulpit, when the congregation asks him to step down because of his blindness, in spite of his successful rehab training.
They go to serve a congregation in a rural village, where in addition to the usual duties of a pastor and his wife, they pray for animals, cope with a huge drafty parsonage, befriend a young couple, secretly married, and help bring a baby into the world in the middle of a flood. The characters are like animals and people the reader may meet every day, those people who will invite you in for iced tea and the latest news
The reader will laugh, and cry and find inspiration as Pastor Jim and Amy struggle and find the will of God.
“I’ll do the eggs,” he said, opening the refrigerator and taking out the egg keeper. “Glad you haven’t moved the eggs. Are the pans still where they were when I lived here?”
“Yes,” she said, stifling the impulse to lead him to the cabinet, or worse still, tell him to be careful of the gas stove.
“Yes, here’s the one I want,” he said. “I haven’t had much training in kitchen skills,” he added as he set the pan on the stove and carefully adjusted the flame, “but Anne says I’ll get a lot at the Rehab Center. I can make coffee, do eggs, and use the microwave.”
“Showoff,” she said, fighting the lump in her throat. Then her love and pride won out. “I’m so proud of you. Maybe I shouldn’t say it, but I can’t help it.”
“Oh, keep saying it,” he said, touching the hands of his Braille watch as the eggs started to boil.
“Here,” she said, handing him the package of chicken. “Put this in the microwave, and keep an eye on it as it thaws.”
Then, with horror, she realized what she’d said.
“Oh, Jim,” she wailed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” he asked, taking the microwave-safe package.
“About what I said.”
“What did you say? Oh, you mean keep an eye on it. Honey, that’s a normal way to speak. You could hardly say keep a finger on it. Remember, Anne told us that we’ll have to use normal expressions. You didn’t do anything wrong. Now, will you kindly set this thing? We need to get some dots on it.”
“Where on earth does one get dots?” she asked as she set the dial to defrost.
“I think there are some in my briefcase,” he said, starting toward the hall. “I just grabbed it the way it was when I left yesterday, and I think there are some in there. You just peel off the back and stick them on.”
“Jim,” she said without really meaning to, “you seem so different.”
“In what way?” he asked as he handed her the package of dots.
“When I visited you at the Center, you, I don’t exactly know, you were different. Now you’re like the old Jim, confident. Maybe that’s the wrong word, but whatever it is I like it.”
“Maybe confident is exactly the right word,” he said. “I’m not sure I can explain it, but I think I needed to know I can still function as myself, and the trip yesterday proved that I can. Amy, I know I still have a long way to go, but for the first time since my blindness, I really believe I can do all the things Anne and Emily have been telling me I can.”
“It is going to be all right,” she said.
“Last night,” he hesitated, “thank you for last night, Amy, it was wonderful.”
And just then the intercom chimed.
“Who on earth can that be?” Amy almost shrieked., lowering the flame under the potatoes which had just started to boil.
“Probably somebody selling something,” he said, going to the refrigerator. “Why don’t I clean and cut the celery while you see who it is?”
“Good thinking,” she agreed just as the doorbell rang.
“Must be somebody Joe knows,” he said, “or they wouldn’t have gotten past him.”
A look through the peephole filled Amy with near horror and a feeling of dread. There, smiling as though she knew she was being observed by an audience, stood Sarah.
“Jim, it’s your mother!”
“Well, let her in.”
“But Jim, I’m wearing my bathrobe.”
“I expect she’s seen one before,” he told her, starting to cut the celery into neat pieces.
“It isn’t that,” she said in panic as the bell rang again. “It’s my old one. To tell the truth, I bought it at The Dollar Store.”
“Oh, never mind,” and sighing she opened the door to reveal a beautifully groomed Sarah accompanied by another woman. Amy felt she should know the woman, but for the life of her, she didn’t know where she’d seen her before.
“Sarah, what a surprise!” she couldn’t bring herself to call it a pleasant surprise.
“Caroline was driving down to see Vernon and Sharon, and I decided that, since Jim was home, I’d come along and surprise you.”
“Well, you did just that.”
Good Heavens! had she really said that!
“Sarah, perhaps we’ve come at an inconvenient time,” the still almost nameless woman said in a deep contralto which spoke of the Deep South. She was tall and wore her snow-white hair in a soft cloud around her face. Her eyes were an incredible violet, and Amy wondered if they were colored with contacts. The soft green pantsuit she wore spoke of simplicity, but Amy would have bet it cost more than she spent for clothes in two months. Vernon and Sharon? Then the penny dropped. Vernon and Sharon. The Breckenridges. Vernon was the president of the church council. Oh, mercy, this was getting worse by the second.
“Oh, no, no,” she stammered, realizing that, not only hadn’t she invited them in, but was standing blocking the door. “Come in. I’m so glad to see both of you. Sit down. Can I get you anything?”
She was sounding like a fool, she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. The house was a mess, she was a mess, and Jim wouldn’t come out of the kitchen.
“Where’s my boy?” Sarah asked, looking around the room as though she expected him to pop up from behind the couch.
“Darling!” she called. “Surprise! it’s your mother and Mrs. Breckenridge come to call.”
Thank goodness she had remembered the woman’s name.
“I’m doing the celery,” he called through the swinging door. “Be right there.”
“He’s doing what?” Sarah said, pushing through the door with Mrs. Breckenridge behind her. Feeling something like the way a caboose must feel, Amy followed.
It couldn’t have been timed more perfectly for disaster if it had been orchestrated. Later she accused Jim of doing just that. As they all went through the door, Jim turned from the stove with the pan of eggs. Mrs. Breckenridge gasped, apparently at the sight of a blind man carrying a pan emitting puffs of steam, Sarah screamed, and Jim, forgetting the knife on the counter, set down the pan of eggs in what he thought was an empty spot. He might have gotten by with it if it had been a knife with a small, flat handle, but it was one of a set with large wooden handles. The pan teetered, seemed to stop for a minute, and landed on the floor, water, eggs, and all.
Then, as Jim irreverently put it later, everything went south. Sarah rushed to clasp Jim in her arms, only she slipped in her high heels, Amy thought it was on part of an egg, and landed with a solid thump on the wet tiles. Mrs. Breckenridge rushed to help her and landed with an equally loud thump beside her. At that moment, the smoke alarm went off with a deafening screech, and the room was filled with the smell of burning.
“Amy, I was going to tell you that I don’t think you put enough water in the potatoes,” Jim spoke calmly, and for one horrible minute Amy thought he was going to laugh. To tell the truth, she felt more than a little hysterical herself.
“I’ll get it,” he said, and moved toward the smoke alarm, only to fall flat over Sarah and Mrs. Breckenridge.
“Oh, my boy!” Sarah was screaming in her high soprano, just as Mrs. Breckenridge’s alto shouted, “Move off my head, young man!”
“Mrs. Miller, is everything all right up here?”Harry the security man stood in the doorway staring with the strangest expression on his face that Amy had ever seen.
Later, she couldn’t believe she had said, “What do you think?” in answer to his question.
“No, ma’am,” he said, in a reasonable voice,“ I don’t believe it is.”
He walked to the stove and shut off the burner, moving the pan with the blackened potatoes to the center of the stove. Then he shut off the smoke alarm and turned to the tangle on the floor.
Amy moved toward them, feeling that she must be dreaming.
“No, Mrs. Miller,” Harry said, “If I was you, I’d just stand still. There’s enough people on the floor. Now, Pastor, if you just give me your hand, and mind, don’t step on the lady’s dress, we’ll get everybody sorted out. Is anybody hurt?”
“Amy, this is ridiculous,” Sarah said later as she sat on the sofa drinking the tea Amy had brought her. “Goodness knows what Caroline thinks, and I must admit that I don’t know what to think for that matter. I came expecting to have a quiet morning with my son and find chaos. You had no business giving Jim chores in the kitchen, Amy. He’s blind!”
Mrs. Breckenridge had done the best she could to remove eggshells from her pantsuit, and had departed almost without a word, saying that she would pick Sarah up after lunch.
“And as for you, Jim,” Sarah was in full cry, “I can’t believe you would behave in such an undignified manner. There wasn’t a thing funny about that whole horrible thing. Yes, I saw you smile. We could all have been hurt badly.”
“But no one was hurt,” Jim said.
“You aren’t a bit sorry, either of you!” Sarah looked about ready to burst into tears.
Amy wanted to say she was sorry, but Jim didn’t give her a chance.
“Yes, we are, Mother, but you know the chaos as you call it could have been prevented if you had called ahead. As for my being in the kitchen, maybe my skills aren’t perfect yet, but I’m learning, and wasn’t doing badly until you and Mrs. Breckenridge came charging in. Yes, I am sorry it happened, but it did happen, and now it’s over.”
“You surely don’t mean that you are blaming us?”
“I’m not actually blaming anybody, Mother,” he spoke gently. “I think, though, that you need to learn that I have to be myself, and that doesn’t mean sitting in my recliner as the world goes by. Now, finish your tea, and we’ll take you out to lunch.”
“No, thank you, dear. I think I’ll just get a taxi. I’ll call Caroline, do a bit of shopping, and then meet her at Vernon’s. No, Amy, stay where you are. I’ll have your doorman find a taxi for me.”
Before either of them could move or utter a protest, she was gone.
Where sheep may safely graze DB89912
Campbell, Phyllis Staton. Reading time: 7 hours, 35 minutes.
Read by Deborah Desmone.
Newly married Amy and Jim Miller find that God tests them when Jim returns home from combat blinded. After the congregation Jim serves as pastor asks him to step down, the couple find themselves in a rural village, where grace hides in the smallest acts. 2017.
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