The Chrysalis: Robin’S Story

By Toria Newman

Robbie is a young woman with spastic cerebral palsy. She has limited speech and spends most of her time in her wheelchair. So it appears to her that life is just passing her by and that there is nothing she can do about it. Robbie is involved in a tragic accident, and while she is unconscious, she visits heaven. There, she is shown the path her life could take, giving her hope and a purpose. However, this would mean that she would live the rest of her life as a disabled person. The Chrysalis is Robbies journeyfrom where she is like the caterpillar, as she feeds off the goodness of others, then to the chrysalis, where she learns her own worth and abilities, becoming an adult. Finally, she evolves into that beautiful butterfly that she was always meant to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris NZ
• Release date: Sep 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543495133

Book preview

The Chrysalis

ROBIN’S STORY

Toria Newman

Copyright © 2018 by Toria Newman.

Front cover design

Photographer: Cathleen Tarawhiti

Digital art: Hend Watani

Model: Laura Thomson

https://cathleentarawhiti.deviantart.com/

ISBN:               Softcover             978-1-5434-9514-0

                          eBook                  978-1-5434-9513-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. [Biblica]

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 09/12/2018

Xlibris

0-800-443-678

www.Xlibris.co.nz

784568

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Isaiah 60:1 (NIV)

Arise, shine, for your light has come,

and the glory of the Lord rises upon you

Thank you so much to everyone who has encouraged and supported me in the writing and publishing of this novel. I want to especially acknowledge Theresa Jones, who helped me when I first started this project. And also Jenni Shirley, who pushed me along in the right direction. I didn’t realize I would enjoy writing as much as I do

This book ls dedicated to Delon Birch, a great friend who sings with the angels in the beauty of God’s garden. He fought a great battle with throat cancer, winning our love, respect and admiration and a home with his Lord Jesus.

In naming the main character, I have chosen to remember and honour Robin Robison Turner, who died of cancer in 2012. A strong lady, her legacy as a warrior of faith and hope will live on in the hearts of those who knew her

Toria’s website.

https://toriasbooks.com

To My Daughter

Not complete, this little girl is what shows in their eyes

As they gaze down at crippled legs and miss her sweet smile

Not complete, this little girl who cannot walk or run

How little do they know

They have not seen as I have seen, the courage in her face

As she looks at her friends around her

And knows none would stand her place

How little do they know

Nor have they heard as I have heard, her voice in joyous song

Nor heard her whispered word each night

Dear Lord please make me strong

How little do they know

They have not watched as I have watched and buried deep my pain

Her courage strong, her love of life

And her hope that’s all in vain

How little do they know

And yet I know, as her life unfolds

This courage she will keep

My little girl just seven years

My beautiful Angel so complete

Merlene Shirley 1959

My mother had this poem published about me when I was a child.

Chapter One

I felt a tingle of excitement ripple through my body as I heard the postman blow his whistle. Curious, I looked over at Mother, who was sitting nearby doing some sewing. Then I began wheeling myself towards the door.

I’ll get it, she growled. Suddenly, every muscle in my body tightened and the cold finger of fear poked its way into the deepest part of my stomach. I dared not contradict her. Mother was in a particularly bad mood today. Yes, until this moment, she had been quiet and occupied, but I knew that in a flash this could all change and all hell would be let loose. I often felt as though I was in the army and that she was the Commander General, if there is such a thing in the Armed Forces. So I stopped, sat still and waited. Presently, she put down her needlework and went outside to the mailbox to get the post.

One for you, she mumbled gruffly as she walked back through the doorway. Looks like Pete again. I hope that you two are not getting too fond of each other. She then sat down again and resumed her sewing and that was that. Not another word was spoken.

I did not like that remark. In truth, it was a statement that made me very angry. Suddenly, I felt every muscle in my body again tighten and my breathing become shallow as I fought to stay calm and in control of myself. So, what did she mean by the words too fond? And who made her judge and jury over my feelings? SHE had her own close friends with whom she spent a great deal of time. In fact, everyone I knew had close friends, spending time together and communicating through letters and even speaking to them by telephone. I could not see why it should be so different for me. Just because I have a physical disability, it does not mean that I am disabled intellectually, or emotionally. Perhaps I was expected to sit at home alone and stare at the walls all my life. What a prospect! Anyway, it was too late. Pete and I were already more than fond of each other. Although the miles separated us physically, this was no hardship to our romance. We were in love and I didn’t care who knew, or what they thought about it. Tucking my letter down beside me, I began to move towards the door. I would find a more private place to read it.

What a beautiful day it was outside. The sun was shining brightly and there didn’t appear to be any clouds in sight. This was just the kind of weather that made me feel good. And to top it all off, a new family was moving in across the street. I could hear that there was a great deal of activity going on over there and since I was such a ‘curious child’, anxious to see it all, I wheeled myself part way down the drive so that I could get a better view.

Now, a few weeks previous to this, my father and brother Steve had concreted the driveway, and near to the road there was a small slope. They had warned me about this, telling me to be careful. But today in my curious efforts to see what was happening across the way, I had for the moment, forgotten about the dip. As I went over the incline, the wheelchair began to move on its own and because of my slow reactions; I was unable to stop it.

For a few moments, I felt excited as the chair gained speed until it was moving at a lightning pace. The cool touch of the breeze whizzed past my face. Stirred by the fray of the moment, the air-stream carried my hair, which was now dancing to its own aspirations. I felt like I was flying and I was excited. But then there came the fear as I saw the road materialize before my eyes, a wall of black bitumen, and a terrifying realization of the truth of my situation as it flung itself towards me.

Right at that moment, my father was driving along on his way home for lunch. He too had noticed the people that were moving in across the street, and for a few seconds, took his eyes off the road. So he didn’t see my predicament. As he turned into the driveway, probably a little faster than he should, I came out to greet him in my wheelchair. I was totally out of control! The car hit my chair, and I was hurled out of it. And that’s the last I can remember of that until I found myself in a different place.

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The truth is that it was like a dream. I appeared to be in a private garden. And although I knew that I had never been here before, somehow this place seemed strangely familiar. Or was it just the feeling of tranquillity and peace that held me captive in my surroundings?

Curious, I went walking. Nestled against a background of trees and shrubbery, the flowers looked so magnificent in colour. Gently, I took one, a beautiful red rose between my fingers and smelled it. I had never before experienced the velvety touch and texture of its petals while holding a flower in my hands. Yet this wasn’t something that I was thinking about at the time. It just seemed to come naturally to me as if I had been doing it all my life.

Hello Flower, I whispered. You are looking very beautiful today. I could feel the strength of its stem reach out to greet me and the richness of its colour seemed to ignite and glow in the radiance of the sun. Then I went to the next flower, and to the next. This was such an enchanting place.

Suddenly I heard a voice behind me call my name. Turning, I saw a man standing a little way off. I am a rather shy person and usually wary of strangers. But here, there was for me, an awareness that I was in a safe place and I felt strangely drawn to this man.

Do I know you? I enquired.

No. But I know you. His voice was strong, but gentle and appealing. His long brown hair lay neatly around his shoulders and he had a short beard. He wore very unusual robe-like clothes that sat snugly, fastened around him with a blue sash. His eyes were vivid blue, compassionate and searching. They looked right down into my soul, but did not crush me. I felt safe and valued.

I thought that I had seen him somewhere before, but for the life of me, I could not remember where. Obviously, this was the place in which the man felt happiest. It seemed logical to me that this was his home. But what was I doing here? Yes, I was captivated. I wanted to know more. Quickly, I walked on over to him.

Do you know my mother then? I asked, my super sleuth inquiring mind now in action.

Yes, he laughed. I know everyone in your family. And I know your Granddad Victor.

Oh, yes, I thought. Many people would have known him. As I remembered him, a warm, familiar feeling came over me. But he was gone, and suddenly, so was that happy feeling.

He died, I said resignedly.

Would you like to see him? the man asked me.

Well now, there was that happy feeling again.

Yes… I felt so excited. Yes, I would like that?

My last memory of Granddad Victor, my father’s dad was at my seventh birthday party. Granddad Victor was blessed with such a wonderful charismatic personality. His eyes were blue-grey and seemed to sparkle and dance. They reminded me of the waves of the ocean as they are touched by the sun on a warm summer’s day. Every fibre of his being seemed to come alive as he told his stories and we all knew that they were absolutely true.

On this occasion of my birthday, Granddad Victor had dressed up as a clown, with painted face, big red nose and clothes to match. He entertained my friends and me most of the day with songs and dance. He also had a puppet called Charlie, who inspired us with his amazing ability to tell jokes. I thought Granddad was so clever because I never once saw his lips move as Charlie was speaking. Most of my friends were not disabled like me, so the room was abuzz with the joyous dancing, jumping, squealing and prancing about the room. Sometime later, Granddad was killed in a terrible logging accident. Although many years had gone by since his passing, I still missed him so much.

Scanning my surroundings again I noticed someone standing in the distance. He began to walk towards me and as he did so, I thought that I recognized him. Could it be? Yes it was, I was sure of it. Then throwing all caution to the wind, I began walking towards him too. Faster… Faster and faster I went until I was running. Our arms went around each other and Granddad pulled me close to him.

Hello my little sunshine, he whispered.

Hello Granddad, I replied. It is really you, isn’t it?

Of course it is me, he laughed. I look like me, don’t I? Yes, it certainly was my granddad. He still looked the same as he always had. That gaping hole in the left front of his old woollen jacket that he always loved to wear reminded me of the many hours that I had watched him working on his beat-up old tractor. He was always trying to make it go. And the sweet, comforting smell of roll-your-own tobacco caught me by surprise as I came near. It stirred many memories of the happy times we had spent together when I was a child.

I took his hand and we began to walk very slowly. This was such a unique moment and this, the most perfect place to meet up again with someone you love. Yes, to remember secrets and precious moments that do not fade with time. They stay with you for eternity as a tangible proof of the power of love and caring for one another.

At first glance this garden had seemed quite small, almost like a private estate as one might find in the more affluent area of a city. Yet as Granddad and I began to walk, the pathway and scenery seemed never-ending. The flowers looked taller; more striking than I remember ever seeing flowers to be at home. They reached proudly towards the warmth of the sun, revealing their fine colours and delightful perfumes. There was so much to see, to touch, to experience and at the same time, I had a feeling that I was catching only a tiny glimpse of the extraordinary splendour of this place. The gardens were set out so that every flower, every plant was in its right location. The colours and sizes moulded to bring the best out in each other. As I breathed in this new and exhilarating atmosphere, I could not help but feel pleased to be here. This might be a place where I could settle. The song of the wind could be heard through the trees, yet I did not feel in the least bit chilled. The sun wrapped its great cloak around me, holding my tiny form as if in a glass cabinet. But still, I was not burned. It appeared to me that every season and awareness of things that would touch our lives on earth was right here in this place. Yes, I could come to like it very much here.

Remember those days when we used to go fishing down in the stream near the old Meat Works? said Granddad, his eyes glowing as he cast his mind back to days gone by. I couldn’t help but smile too as I remembered.

We spent hours at that old fishing hole, but we never caught anything, I replied. You were always hopeful though. But I never even saw any sign that there were fish in that stream.

He laughed. Oh, but they were wonderful times, happy times. They were the best for me. Yes, just me and my girl. You don’t go fishing anymore…Or maybe you do.

I eyeballed him suspiciously, unsure of what he was actually saying. Obviously he wasn’t talking about fishing. Nervously, I looked closer at my surroundings. For some strange reason I suddenly felt very embarrassed and just wanted to try to avoid that subject.

This is an amazing place. I tried to sound very sure and convincing, but I knew that I was stammering.

Putting his arm around my shoulders, Granddad pulled me closer to him as we walked. I rested my head on this chest and feeling the warmth of his love afresh, all my apprehensions just disappeared.

You deserve to have someone who treats you like a woman, he said in almost a whisper. I could feel the warmth in my face as the evidence of my embarrassment appeared, I suppose in a blush of soft pink. I knew of course, that in his own way he was referring to Pete.

As my thoughts turned to the man I loved, my whole being