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Authors: Allison Pittman

Speak Through the Wind

BOOK: Speak Through the Wind
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Praise for the Crossroads of Grace Series

 

“In
Speak Through the Wind
, Allison Pittman guides her heroine down the dark alleys of New York and through the bustling streets of San Francisco on a harrowing journey toward wholeness. Carefully chosen details and realistic dialogue bring the gritty scenes to life as Kassandra spirals downward, even as her day of redemption draws near.”
L
IZ
C
URTIS
H
IGGS
, bestselling author of
Grace in Thine Eyes

 

“While
Speak Through the Wind
is beautifully written, wonderfully moving, and a testament to God’s love, it suffers from the following: It is highly incompatible with mascara (waterproof or otherwise), getting one’s children to school ahead of the tardy bell, and putting dinner on the table. I simply could not put it down.”
T
AMARA
L
EIGH
, bestselling author of
Perfecting Kate

 

“Allison Pittman’s
Speak Through the Wind
is a heart-wrenching saga of betrayal and redemption and a young woman’s struggle to find herself, against all odds. Poignant and unforgettable!”
K
ATHY
H
ERMAN
, author of the Seaport Suspense and Phantom Hollow series

 

“Through this moving and insightful story, Allison captures some of the crippling lies we all encounter on our journey to trusting in the character of God—such as being enticed away from His protective authority by empty promises of something more satisfying, and believing He is responsible for the consequences of our choices. She reminds us that, no matter where the lies have led us in our own lives, no matter how broken and bruised we have become, it’s never too late to ‘come home’ into the arms of our ever accepting and loving heavenly Father.”
J
ULIE
F
ERWERDA
, author of
The Perfect Fit: Piecing Together True Love

 

“Allison Pittman gives us another powerful story of action and grace.
Speak Through the Wind
tells a spine-tingling tale set in a harsh and brutal time, but it’s gloriously lit with laughter, courage, hope, and love. An absolute must-read.”
K
AREN
R
OTH
, author of
Found on 16
th
Avenue

 

“Ten
Thousand Charms
is a terrific debut for writer Allison Pittman, a tale of love and redemption that grabs you and won’t let go. It will leave you like it left me, anxious to see this author’s future work.”
J
AMES
S
COTT
B
ELL
, bestselling author of
Presumed Guilty

 

‘Once I started my
Ten Thousand Charms
journey, I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. Pittman’s literary eloquence provides a sidesaddle perspective into one woman’s life journey, love struggle, and eternal conflict. Definitely a keeper! This will be a suggested read for all of my listening audiences.”
L
INDA
G
OLDFARB
, syndicated talk radio host, speaker, and writer

 

“If you took Francine Rivers’ classic
Redeeming Love
and merged it with Janette Oke’s quaint prairie style, you could almost envision the masterpiece Allison Pittman has created with her poignant tale of God’s redemptive power. If you’re in need of a fresh touch of God’s grace,
Ten Thousand Charms
is the story for you.”
J
ANICE
T
HOMPSON
, author of
Hurricane

 

“Are you thirsty, weary, or heavy laden? Come—rest and let Allison Pittman take you to another place and time where you will find joy resting in the arms of Jesus.”
L
AUREN
L. B
RIGGS
, author of
What to Say and Do When Someone is Hurting
and
The Joy of Family Legacies

 

“Ten Thousand Charms
is a moving story of love and redemption as its diamond-in-the-rough characters struggle with faith to leave behind a dark past for a brighter future.”
L
INDA
W
INDSOR
, author of
Blue Moon

 

For my guys—Mike, Ryan Jack, and Charlie.
It’s good to be home!

 

Acknowledgments

 

“How can
I
repay the
LORD
for all his goodness to me?”
(P
SALM 116:12, NIV
)

 

Good question! The blessings God has showered on me are immeasurable.

He has brought my family to a place of healing, comforting our hearts and reassuring us of His presence and His plans.

To my fellow teachers—I miss you. For the first time in twenty years I’m eating lunch alone! And particularly to Jennifer: I’ve never seen anybody suffer so much fire with so much grace.

To my fellow writers—thank you for Monday nights. I can’t imagine my life without them.

Finally, Rod, thank you for holding my hand through all of this. You were, for me, proof that God does give us second chances. And first choices.

 

 

John Greenleaf Whittier (1872)

 

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways;
Re-clothe us in our rightful mind;
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

 

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

 

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm!

 

In simple trust like theirs who heard,
Beside the Syrian sea,
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word,
Rise up and follow Thee.

 

Amen.

 

 

very Sunday Mr. Maroni built up a fire right on the corner of Mulberry and Bayard. After hauling out the big black cauldron from the back corner of his grocery, he tossed in the odds and ends of unwanted food—potatoes with black spots, limp carrots, turnips gone soft, greenish meat. To this he added water and whatever broth could be salvaged from the meat boiled for his own Saturday-night supper. All this he set simmering in the predawn hours of the city’s day of rest. By the time the first church bells rang, a perfectly respectable soup (or stew, or hash, depending on the ingredients and consistency) was available to the public. Mr. Maroni stood at the pot with a ladle the width and depth of a blacksmith’s fist, ready to serve anyone who came with a bowl and a penny.

On chilly autumn mornings like this one, the line formed early—sometimes before Mr. Maroni even had a chance to settle the pot over the flames. The drunks showed up first, reeling from a night full of rotten whiskey and eventually crumpling to the street to be trampled under the feet of the less intoxicated.

Then came the rowdy street boys, arriving in line as they moved through life—together. They whiled away their time in line knocking each other upside the head with battered and rusted tin cups. They taunted Mr. Maroni with threats of violence to his wife and his children if their serving was watery or thin, detailing just how they would torch his entire grocery if they found another cockroach at the bottom of a cup.

Sometimes a mother would show up with her entire brood and a handful of pennies—one for every ladle full dropped into her bucket. Later she would gather her children and divide the contents according to each child’s age and hunger, until, as it happened every week, there was only the barest broth left for her.

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