This past weekend a dear friend was struck by a serious illness. The kind of illness that makes everyone pause and thank God for a healthy life. The kind of illness that can mean life or death. The kind of illness that can change someone’s world forever.

I spent the weekend with my friend, beside their bed, wishing and hoping and praying for the kind of intervention that only a miracle can provide. I pushed everything else to the side–my family, my writing, my life–to support this friend.

My friend is out of immediate danger, and now it’s time for me to return to my work. But how am I supposed to concentrate on writing when my mind is still filled with worry and fear?

There are things more important than work. People are more important than work.

It’s unfortunate that it takes a disaster for us to realize what’s really valuable in our lives.

Will I write again soon? Yes, but it will be with a heavy heart. Maybe that works best for me. The tone of my books is dark. Fear, death, despair… these are all themes that weave themselves into my writing. Perhaps some light will shine through that darkness.