Beverly Hafemeister

Silly me! Here I was having a nice little life.

Had an artistic talent, had strengthened that talent in one of the best big ten universities within reach, had focused on parlaying those skills into creating a niche drapery business, had done the historical research to know how to re-create the all but forgotten textile secrets. I had quietly received commissions nationwide where I could throw my energy into projects headed by people equally earnest about house museums presenting the full historical story in their community. I call it a happy, stimulating, satisfying life.

Suddenly, when having passed normal retirement age, I was blindsided by grief that spun out of control. See, I hadn’t yet realized this life was mainly a vehicle for spiritual growth. As a “normie” this co-author can say, We Got It All Wrong, here too. Life’s real reason had the joys of the Fine Arts as a sideline, not the mainline. Rapidly coming to the fore were basic human life issues. Unwittingly I isolated myself and found I was being overrun by gloomy voices with an agenda alien to my own. Gradually, as you’ll discover, my life took a sorry detour but one I wouldn’t want to have missed. Let me share my trip with you in the first book in our series, We Got It All Wrong: death and grief, heaven and hell and mental illness