It was on the worst day of her life, in May of 1997 - when the author's arms hung paralyzed at her sides, when she howled like a wild animal because of the nerve pain, when she couldn't lift her arms to wipe her hair-and-mucus-plastered face - that she begged God to give her a job, to give her purpose.
She was only 47.
Around her, life went on - family graduations, weddings, funerals.
She tried her best to keep up with social traffic, and with her husband's help, she looked presentable to.
Conversations of the soul, paperback/Elizabeth Helen Rose
