Bøker av Lora Dean Beardsley

I slipped behind the curtain and whispered a prayer, "Lord . . . You've never warned me of this . . . are You taking my son? If You are please let me know . . . I want to be able to tell him bye. Please.""Ding." Retrieving my phone, I read a heaven-sent-text: "This is not unto death . . . ."