J.M. Norwood
The Twelfth Window, set in a fantasy 1980s high school, is an allegory about the relationship between God and men, showing how the Holy Bible is a love story.
Book One in a series of seven, The Twelfth Window follows the heroine, Lisa Chess, and her friends on her search for the one, real and true love, which is nearly derailed by her first crush, Monty Ray, and by her own impatience and selfishness. Lisa and her friends become direct participants in the unfolding of an ancient prophecy in the meantime, eventually leading them all to discover the ultimate Reality.
The author, J.M. Norwood, resides in the New York City metropolitan area and currently holds down a successful career in the music industry. She was previously an editor at HITS Magazine. She holds a B.A. in communication from Howard University and has traveled extensively to places like London, Paris, Rome, Panama and Dubai. Last year J.M. Norwood became a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers association. She is an active member of St. Paul Of The Cross church in the NYC area.
The Twelfth Window is J.M. Norwood's first major publication.
There is nothing stronger in the Universe than His love.
PROLOGUE
That was the thing about going to service. The music, fellowship, the deeper mystery in the reading of the passages that always jibe perfectly with whatever was going on in her own life. Every week on mornings like this, she drank in the ancient wisdom handed down from generation to generation in the sacred passages recounting the lives and thoughts of people of faith. She appreciated the incensed warmth of the temple in the winter months and the airy, echoing coolness of the stone interior in the dog days of summer—in both cases, refuge from a harsh world. She loved to contemplate the stained-glass windows, above all, the pane showing an angel comforting Atael in a dark hour. The contrast between the loud, white splendor of the messenger and the earthliness of the One who prayed was a whole service in itself. She imagined that the sight of the angel made Atael, well, homesick. If it were possible to hear the bright countenance of the host of Heaven, she would spend her waking moments with her ear pressed to the pane. Homesick. Might this be what she sometimes felt, during the contemplative minutes after the choir and the congregation had cleared out of the building, and she had Him all to herself? Why go outside and face the world, or be in it?
“Lisare… we’re going to lock the doors now,” advised the usher. Only in this sanctified building did Lisa allow anyone to call her Lisare, the religious name she chose from a long list of past prophets and heroes of faith. Well, OK, technically, she made it up—a blending of the names of her two favorite prophets. She wrestled with her parents on that one but prevailed only because of the earnestness and honesty of the reasons she gave them for this renegade naming. Lisare was a code name for Him and for the angels to identify her. Once she crossed the double glass doors, she would be back to Lisa Anne Chess again. But not yet…
“Just a sec,” she called. She bowed her head, folded her hands and recited her favorite prayer in a hushed tone; then she picked up her coat, new purse and personal prayer book and stepped into the aisle. The usher turned all the ceiling and altar lighting off as Lisa approached the entrance.
“I think your folks have already pulled the car in front,” noticed the usher, Mrs. Kemp.
“Thanks.” Mrs. Kemp was right; the station wagon sat out front. Mr. Chess rolled his window down.
“Chop-chop, we’ve got the car warmed up and we don’t want to be late for the play,” he called. Lisa jogged to the car and jumped in the back on her mother’s side, and the Chess family was off to brunch and a musical after that. No matter, you could have driven Lisa from one end of the country to the other and back, and she would be in her reflective mood until only the first few notes of the opening scene at the play could bring Lisa back down to the planet.
