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Vicki Hinze | Running On Faith--Or Fumes Of Faith

Forget Me Not
Vicki Hinze




Barnes & Noble


Powell's Books



Crossroads Crisis Center #1

March 2010
On Sale: March 16, 2010
Featuring: Benjamin Brandt
352 pages
ISBN: 1601422059
EAN: 9781601422057
Kindle: B0036S4CHK
Paperback / e-Book
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Also by Vicki Hinze:
Risky Brides, November 2014
Dangerous Desires, July 2013
Maybe This Time, February 2013
Torn Loyalties, February 2013


There are times in every life when weíre soul weary, exhausted and all thatís left in us is to run on faith. And then, when weíre positive things canít get any worse, they do, and weíre reduced to running on fumes of faith.

A while back, I went through a fumes-of-faith situation. Actually, at the time, it seemed like I was down to my last fume. Youíve likely been there and know exactly what I mean. Itís the time when youíre stuck in a situation and feel like youíre living that old saying about having one nerve left, it being frayed, and someone or something is strumming on it like itís a banjo.

For me, the nature of that time took the form of a lot of eye surgeries (tough for a writer to write when she canít see a thing), lots of pain and feeling awful (not exactly conducive conditions for creativity). Being unable to move much (I had to sit with my eyes closed day after day), I couldnít read, watch TV, and had to have an escort to move around even inside the house. Doesnít that time sound like fumes to you? It certainly felt like fumes to me.

But I was wrong; it wasnít. Things got worse. More worrisome medical issues complicated my situation. (Iím fine, by the way.) But then, in that place, I ask you, who in her right mind would expect to later recall being there as a great time that fostered major changes in her life and in her work?

I sure didnít expect I would, but I did endure it and I do recall it as a great time, and it did change my life and my work. To be more precise, the actual fume situation changed many things.

It started out with a visit to the doc for, I thought, bronchitis. In short, two scary somethings showed up on an x-ray. What, the doc couldnít say without further tests, but it appeared the scary ďsomethingsĒ were in my chest and on my thyroid gland. The first thing you think of is cancer and that scares the socks off us all. Things didnít look so good.

Further tests were done, and weeks crawled by before I learned the results. Those were tough weeks, but productive ones. I thought a lot about life and death and specifially about what Iíd done with my life. Like everyone, I had a few regrets, but I recalled many joyful things, too. When Iíd sorted through everything, I found my bottom line. Iíd loved well and been loved well. Real life doesnít get much better than that.

Finally, I returned to the doc for the test results and, I thought, for the ďthis is how long youíve gotĒ kind of news. In the car on the way, I prayed, which is common for me though Iíd done a lot more of it, working through this potential news. ďLet this pass and Iíll focus on doing what You want me to do.Ē That was the gist of it. Some would consider that bargaining. I didnít see it that way because Iíd found peace in my bottom line, accepting of however things turned out.

A few blocks from the docís office an oddity occurred to me that should have been noted immediately but in all those weeks hadnít once crossed my mind. You donít have a thyroid gland anymore. How can something be on it when you donít have one? ďWait a minute,Ē I thought. ďI donít have oneóor do I?Ē

Knowing isnít as simple as you might think. See, at 25, my thyroid was surgically removed. Only it grew back. Then they radiated it. But three months later, the remnants of it began functioning again. Iíd been put on replacement therapy back then (which means I take a pill a day) but the thingís fluctuated ever since. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didnít. Sometimes it worked a lot, and other times a little. So who knew whether or not I had a gland? (Now you see why it didnít occur to me right away!)

For the previous few years, Iíd been stable. As in, it wasnít working, and that was great because itís easier to get the right dosage of replacement when youíre in that position. So, I wondered. Had the thing grown back again and started functioning again, or what?

When I got into the docís office, that question was burning in my mind. So I asked. He went a little pale and double-checked the original testóthe one that showed the scary somethings. The results werenít mine. The name was one letter off. One letter.

My heart broke for the testís owner. I well knew what sheíd be going through. It was a clerical error, and those things do happen, and when they do, itís never easy, but to be fair we must weigh them in context of the million things that have gone right.

Naturally, I was relieved. The situation had passed from me. And while I initially said getting the initial wrong results was an error, Iím not convinced it really was. Because of the incident, I did a lot of thinking about things that when weíre comfortable and rocking along in life we donít stop to think about. We donít question ourselves, our choices, or what weíre doing, we coast. Often while coasting we miss out on the best life has to offer us. We donít see the best not because it isnít there but because weíre not looking. This ďerrorĒ gave me an opportunity to look and the incentive to actually do it. As a result, I made significant changes in my life, in my attitudes, and in my writing.

Have the changes all been easy? No. Have there been times when I slip and stumble? Sure. But I always have, so thatís just normal. (If Iím not slipping and stumbling, I worry, because it means Iíve planted myself in a safe comfort zone and Iím not stretching. Thatís stagnant, and stagnant anything [physical, emotional or spiritual] withers and dies.) But those changes have been good.

I canít say everyone has appreciated them. Some, even some who really adore you, want you to stay the same so you donít tread on their comfort zones. But those who most matter embraced it and others come into your life and are accepting. Thatís a normal thingóa culling and sloughing of whatís supposed to be in your life at a certain time. Some are in your life all your life and others are with you for a seasonóbecause you have something to give and/or receive from each other that you both need.

Worrying comes less now. Compassion comes quickly and runs deeper. And while patience has always been my albatrossóas in, I have too little of itóI have grown more patient. I believe Iím where Iím supposed to be doing what Iím supposed to be doing, writing what Iím supposed to be writing. That brings a calm that is infinitely easier on a body than the feeling uncertain or as if youíd be glad to do whatever you should be doing if only you knew what it was. And itís amazingly better than feeling out of sorts and like youíve been forgotten in the hall.

No one is actually forgotten in the hall, but we can feel that way at timesóusually when weíre in the dark and so busy banging our shoulders on the walls we think weíre supposed to be banging on that we fail to see all the doors with doorknobs (opportunities) weíre passing by or the light at the end of the hallway. Yet the doors, doorknobs and light are there.

Tough times still come, though ďtoughĒ doesnít have the all-consuming power it once did. It took me a while to figure out why, but if youíve read this, then you already know, so I wonít beat it to death repeating it. Most days, Iím just grateful. Iím healthy, with my family, writing books I totally love, playing secret fairy godmother where I can, blogging on things I think matter, visiting with friends and immersed in little things. To some that life might sound boring, but itís the one Iíve chosen to build and it means an awful lot to me. And when I hit a rough patch as I did this morning . . . well, Iíll share that.

Before daylight my daughter phoned. Those late night and early morning calls knot us all up. Everything ended up fine, but it still took a while for my heart rate to slow down. Then I walked into the kitchen and discovered the water pipes were frozen. That was a little less than pleasant, as was all the dialogue on whether or not theyíd rupture on thawing. It took a couple hours to find outóthe mercury still hadnít hit 28 degrees. That made for two mini-traumas before coffee. I rebelled. ďStop. Rewind.Ē I refused to start a new day in a new week on this note. Instead, I started whispering things I was grateful for. My daughter, son-in-law and grands were safe. We had heat. We had bottled wateróI made coffee. Everything seems better and easier when youíve got your cup of coffee, doesnít it?

I expanded my ďIím grateful forĒ list. None of them were huge. None were life changing, but all were attitude changing (mine), and that is life changing. Much more pleasant.

And then I checked my email and found the first review had come in on FORGET ME NOT. It is the first book Iíve written after all the above changes, similar yet different from my other books. Risky business, most would agree. I wrote it on faithóin part, on fumes of faith, and I had no idea how it would be received. The Publishers Weekly review was now in, and considering my less than stellar morning thus far, I wasnít sure Iíd sufficiently bucked up my attitude to risk taking a look.

I gave myself a little lecture and then checked it. Okay, I admit it. I peeked with one eye and a wince, read what the reviewer wrote: ďHinze" has written a masterful, complicated tale of suspense that gains momentum with each turn of a page. Her writing flows surely, moving from one character to the next, one setting to another, with readers keeping the swift pace . . . Hinzeís plot may have readers puzzling over how this tangled tale will ever resolve itself, but that underestimates the authorís talent for transforming the unlikely into something beautiful.Ē

I read it twice just to be sure what I thought was there actually was there. Then came squeals of pure delight.

Who would have thought that a risky work born as a result of an incident initially so hard and dark and supported by mere fumes of faith would become the source of such uncomplicated joy?

I wouldnít have, but it is. And thatís the reason for this post.

There are times when we all feel forgotten and as if weíre wandering aimlessly, lost or unsure of what we should do; times when regardless of what we do, nothing seems to work out right. Times when life so beats us up or down that all we have left is to run on faith. Then things get worse, and all thatís left are fumes of faith.

Yet if we work through it, look for the doors and doorknobs and light at the end of the hall, stop and rewind so our perspective doesnít get skewed by thoughts running wild and our attitude doesnít get so bad it sucks the life right out of us, then fumes of faith can be more than enough.

Fumes can give us the kick we need to dare, to take risks, to dream. And when weíre really lucky, those fumes can lead the way to that mustard seed required to discover deeper contentment and joy.

There are those moments when fumes and errors are just downright perfect.

Finding them, and recognizing them when you do, well, thatís my wish for you.






8 comments posted.

Re: Vicki Hinze | Running On Faith--Or Fumes Of Faith

Thank you, what an inspiration. My faith has kept me going thru thick and thin. You are right sometimes it's just fumes, but it comes back stronger then ever. Good luck to you.
(Theresa Buckholtz 10:20am January 13, 2010)

Many blessings to you, Vicki. Like the reader above, my faith has kept me going when there was nothing else to keep me going. I've often wondered why I had to go through the trials and pain I have, but I came to the conclusion, too, that it was to teach me more compassion for others.
(Sigrun Schulz 4:21pm January 13, 2010)

Times like this make you stop and
be grateful for what you have.
Glad to know that are alright.
(Lisa Richards 5:46pm January 13, 2010)

Thanks for sharing such an inspirational story. I'm glad things are better now.
(Penny Tuttle 9:39pm January 13, 2010)

What an eventful time. Thank you for sharing.
(Mary Preston 10:29pm January 13, 2010)

Thanks for sharing! Count me in!
(Brenda Rupp 11:08pm January 13, 2010)

Vicki, I have always say, "When going gets tough, the tough gets going!" Hang in there! I know how you feel.
(Lisa Glidewell 12:30pm January 14, 2010)

You do find inner strength when tested, but it helps to have a few moments when things are going smoothly. Here's hoping that your ship's come in.
(Alyson Widen 11:46am January 14, 2010)

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