“You have had a stroke, you are about to have a stroke, or you have a brain tumor.”

I stared at the neurologist’s impassive face and stifled my temptation to ask if this was a multiple-choice situation. One’s thoughts tend to become ridiculous in times of terror.

Which would you rather have?
a. a poke in the eye with a sharp stick
b. a kick in the knee
c. a swift blow upside the head

Wait a minute! Something is wrong with this menu. Of course, “d. none of the above.”

“We’ll need to do some tests. Stop at the desk, and Marie will arrange for you to be admitted to the hospital.”

“Now?”

The doctor stopped on his way to the door. “Yes, of course. Is there a problem?”

“I have three more days of school.”

“Then check in on Friday.”

I sat for a moment in the empty office and wondered if I could possibly look as unconcerned about the whole scenario as he did. In less than five seconds this man had brought my life to a screeching halt, and his best suggestion had been to stop at the desk and chat with Marie.

By the time I arrived home I concluded that there had been a mistake. I was too young to have a serious illness. At 45 I still had 20 more years to pursue my career before I reached retirement age. Since I believed in the providence of a God Who directs the lives of His children for their good and His glory, I was confident that there was no way He could allow a disaster like this for my good. I was wrong. Angiograms and a spinal tap showed that a CVA (cerebral vascular accident) had, in fact, occurred.

In a way it was a relief to know that I’d already had a stroke. At school, then, there was a reason why the itsy bitsy spider hadn’t made it up the waterspout with his usual finesse — I had no coordination. My legs weren’t working too well, either.

“So what caused it, and what are my chances of another one?” I asked the doctor.

“We can’t tell you that,” he replied.

All this pain and agony, and I knew just about as much about my condition as he did? If I had another episode, I’d have to tell him “the news”? Suddenly the years I had put into being a teacher and librarian seemed not to be wasted. I had better answers than that.

Turning Point
During the ensuing months of therapy I needed to overcome the “residuals” of my CVA, I pondered my future. I was determined that I would not become an invalid. If my legs wouldn’t work efficiently, I’d use my head. As I considered the possibilities for a career other than teaching, one that might not be so physically demanding, I decided there was nothing in my life I liked better than children and books. What a superb combination!

The popularity of television shows like “Little House on the Prairie” and “The Waltons” demonstrated that nostalgia had become a big seller. Suffering citizens, tired of the upheaval of the ’60s, longed for the good old days of cooking on a wood range, washing clothes by hand, weeding, chopping and canning fresh vegetables from one’s own garden, and socializing with the neighbor ladies while feeding the thrashing crews. (They wanted to hear about it, at any rate.) Children were still asking, “What was it like …?” I could answer that!

Finding Grandma
I recalled that Grandma had kept me glued to the back porch steps with her stories. And I decided I would re-tell one of them, just as I remembered it. When I finished writing Grandma’s first story, I tentatively sent it to my church publishers, hoping that it might be included in the Sunday take-home papers. The editor liked it! So they bought it, paying me one cent per word. Grandma and I were off and running!

Then, in 1974, the first book of the Grandma’s Attic series was published. Eighteen books and 29 years later, the series had sold more than 2 million copies.

If the story were to end there, it would be most satisfying. Providence, however, had not finished with Grandma. Three-and-a-half years ago, I was privileged to meet the international editor of Sakuhokusha Co., Ltd., Tokyo. She came to my home and saw the books. (All of this was quite “by chance” you might say. But I knew better.) Two weeks after the editor returned home, negotiations began for the rights to translate my Grandma’s Attic series into Japanese. Conditions would not seem to be ideal for such an alliance — this secular company had never published a children’s book, nor had they ever purchased a book from a Christian publisher. And, the possibilities for its successful marketing in Japan (a country where fewer than 2 percent of the population is Christian) seemed slim indeed.

Thankfully, things are not always as they seem. Within two years, 18 Japanese titles in the series had been released, all beautiful hardback books. Japanese readers immediately loved the Grandma stories, and I began receiving letters from both children and adults — including college students whose teachers were using the books as texts for Western children’s literature courses.

Then, at age 74, with the help of a friend who accompanied me (at the time I needed both a wheelchair and a cane). What a pleasure to meet my publishers, my translator, and many students with whom I’d corresponded! I was invited to speak four times. Imagine my delight to find that my first audience was composed of teachers and librarians!

Looking Back
As of 2003, 32 of my books have been published, and two others are currently in progress. At this point, I’d have to say that if my path through life had to change, I could not have asked for a more pleasant journey than the one I’ve taken. I can truly say, with God’s friend David, “He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” (Psalm 23:2-3).

Has everything ever come to a screeching halt again since that day almost 30 years ago? Yes, several times. There are days when I’m frustrated by lack of mobility or the inconvenience of pain. But life is good. I would not suggest a cerebral vascular accident as an event leading to a new beginning, however, I would strongly recommend a stroke of Providence.