Ice Age hyenas with their kill, a wild boar: the mammoth and horses in the background are lucky the boar came along when it did.
With two deaths in the family coming virtually back-to-back, I haven’t been quite at my best lately. Not good: because I have a book to write, and the weather has held me back considerably. I’ve written a couple of chapters of His Mercy Endureth Forever, but as of this morning, I still didn’t know where it was going. Note I said “didn’t,” not “don’t.” Because now I think I know.
So I sat outside with my cigar and asked the Lord to give me the story He wants me to tell: and He has. Like, right away. All I had to do was ask.
Now I know why He gave me that title, and why He gave me Ice Age extra-large and ferocious cave hyenas, without an Ice Age to go with them. Now I can proceed.
Thank you, Father. It’s a weird way to write, but so far it’s carried me through ten Bell Mountain books, plus two awards.