Going Through the Door and Finding Miracles

Going Through the Door and Finding Miracles

by Janice Rae Sanders


Publisher Xulon Press

Published in Biographies & Memoirs/Memoirs, Biographies & Memoirs, Nonfiction

Are you an AUTHOR? Click here to include your books on

Book Description

I ignored God, though I knew he was always there somewhere. While living a reckless and selfish life, the Lord kept putting miracles in front of me. Through his grace, I survived drugs, and several misfortunes that made me think I was a cat with nine lives. God put doors in front of me, and my mother gave me the courage to go through them. The book is written the way I talk, and all the pieces fall into place at the end. It lists the miracles I have witnessed, while chronicling my life.

Sample Chapter

My Early Life

My early life was not the life of the Cleavers, or the Brady Bunch kids. My birth mother, committed suicide…hanging herself by my crib. I found out when I was walking to school…a group of older kids enlightened me…I was five.

When I asked the questions, as to why, (I didn’t ask till I was about 12) I was told she had the Baby Blues, and I was 6 months old when it happened. However, I saw one of those religious cards they give you at funerals, and I was more like two when she did it. So I think we can rule out post-partum depression.

My father never said much, just “You have a mother now, so leave it alone." My Dad remarried when I was almost six.

My Dad said that when he dated, and he got around to mentioning he had two motherless children at home, the lady would excuse herself to use the restroom, and sneak out of the restaurant. He dated a woman named Marilyn for a while, and I liked her, she gave me underwear with the different days of the week on them.

I was not thrilled when I met Carallee. I lived with my Aunt Elsie, and only saw my father on weekends. Those early years with Aunt Elsie were not easy, and I loved her and Uncle Wilbur with all my heart. My brother was in a home for boys for a while, but ran away when they beat him for not eating his oatmeal. He stayed four blocks away at Aunt Maydees. It might as well have been four miles…I was a little kid, and I wasn’t even allowed to cross the street, let alone travel to 106th street.

I had to leave Aunt Elsie’s for a time. I used to sit on Uncle Wilbur’s lap, what he had of a lap anyway, as he was overweight, and I would have my little cowboys from the Fort Apache set march up his stomach and chest like they were scaling a mountain. I liked the smell of his pipe, and loved the ritual of watching him clean and fill the pipe. He always dozed, or so I thought while I sat on his lap. I vaguely remember, Aunt Elsie walking in, and yelling "Wilbur" and it was because my dear old Uncle had unzipped his fly, and had himself exposed, feinting sleep, and hoping little Janice would touch him. So I was shipped off, and stayed at some ladies house, but I came down with pneumonia, and ended up in the hospital. I still remember that the first night in the hospital was the longest night of my life…I didn't sleep. I lay awake for hours and was pretty miserable. I also hated the bedpan. It was in the hospital that I learned to become an activist. I was in a large ward of children. One of the nurses was a cruel, cruel woman, and she had red hair. She would pull our hair, and hit us with the hairbrush. She threatened all of us…she said we'd never see our families again if we told. She slapped us too. Lots of the kids cried, and after one such torturous shift, I became the Union leader. I took our grievances to my father! My father visited everyday on his lunch hour…and when I told him, he went crazy.

My kind father, the guy who made me laugh every day, while wearing a Donald Duck puppet on his hand…ran out of there like his hair was on fire. He grabbed the first nurse he saw, and asked if it was this one…and it wasn't. Anyway, needless to say, the nurse was fired…it turned out that she was recently released from a mental hospital or something like that. I guess they didn't do background checks in the 50s. So I went back to Aunt Elsie’s, but they kept Uncle Wilbur far away from me. The incident was never mentioned to me, and I recalled all of it the day I walked into a tobacco store and smelled the pipe tobaccos.

Okay, so back to meeting my mother…except she wasn't my new mother yet…it was a date…a meet the kids date. Now, Carallee was from the Cayman Islands. For years kids thought I said the Grand Canyon, and they had no idea where this place was. The children in the Caymans were raised to respect adults, everything was yes ma’am, and yes sir etc. And the Cayman people did not spare the rod and spoil the child, though the only thing they revered more than their children was God.

Imagine poor Carallee's shock at my first words to her. "Who is she?" "Why does SHE have to go with us?" "I don't want her to come with to the museum with us!" Just so you don't think I was a total brat, remember I only saw my father and brother on weekends. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, and maybe, she was not going with, she takes me by the arm and announces she is going to give me a BATH!!!!! I WAS HORRIFIED. Sure I had dirty sweat streaks on my arms, but you get those when you are digging a hole to China. I waited for my father to intervene, and he just pretended to be busy with something else. She actually had to drag me, my shoes scraping the toes on the sidewalk, as I was having none of this, and I never did admit the bath was refreshing.

I did get even though. I planted myself between the two front seats. This was in the days of no seat belts, and I stood on that little hump on the floor in the back seat, and wedged myself between them both, talking a mile a minute so they couldn't get a word in edgewise. My beloved brother Ronnie, whom I adored, had the audacity to tell me he actually liked this woman! I was not to be won over, and I carried a grudge the rest of the week.

Now, for the lesson learned here, and this is important! GOD OPENS MANY DOORS FOR US…WE CAN CHOOSE TO WALK THROUGH THEM, OR TO SLAM THEM SHUT. THANK YOU JESUS THAT CARALLEE JACKSON FROM SAVANNAH, GRAND CAYMAN, WALKED THROUGH THAT DOOR. It changed my life forever. But of course I didn't realize how much, until much later in life. But let’s fast forward to more miracles.


Excerpted from "Going Through the Door and Finding Miracles" by Janice Rae Sanders. Copyright © 2015 by Janice Rae Sanders. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Thanks for reading!

Join BookDaily now and receive featured titles to sample for free by email.
Reading a book excerpt is the best way to evaluate it before you spend your time or money.

Just enter your email address and password below to get started:


Your email address is safe with us. Privacy policy
By clicking ”Get Started“ you agree to the Terms of Use. All fields are required

Instant Bonus: Get immediate access to a daily updated listing of free ebooks from Amazon when you confirm your account!

Author Profile

Janice Rae Sanders

Janice Rae Sanders

Janice Rae Sanders was born in Chicago in July, 1949. Her father was a Store clerk for the railroad, and her mother was a housewife. At the age of two, Janice's mother committed suicide and her father was left to raise Janice and her 6 year old brother Ronald. Her Father remarried, and when Janice was 11, her sister was born. She attended George Washington school, on the Eastside of Chicago, graduating in 1967.

View full Profile of Janice Rae Sanders

Amazon Reviews