We are excited to share our latest book is now available in either print or ebook through Amazon!
Heaven on Earth, Your Mission is the second book in a trilogy.
In the first book, Sent From Heaven, Why You Are Here, I explored the great care God took in preparing you for your Mission to Earth.
In this book, I explore what you are actually on earth to do and some of the challenges you will have to overcome here. It is a call to action!
While we hope you will read both books, you can read either or both.
Sent From Heaven is in audio on my blog site. Simply select the book title at the top of the home page. It’s free!
carolynpriesterjones.org
We are in the process of recording Heaven On Earth and will let you know when it is available.
Because we do not advertise our books in the traditional ways, we depend on others to share the news. So if you feel so led, we would appreciate your sharing the news with your friends and family!
It amazes me to look back at our lives and realize how many twists and turns were really The Hand of God positioning us to receive His Wonderful Gifts.
Sometimes God tells us which roads to take. Sometimes He tells us which roads not to take. Sometimes we sense His Guidance at the time. Sometimes we only realize it after the facts … sometimes long after the facts.
In June, 1946, a young aide-de- camp to a General asked for the day off. He had a special mission of his own.
The General granted his request. Both proceeded with their day. No one would have predicted their days would begin and end at the same time.
The young aide-de-camp’s mission was to ask a girl to marry him. She said yes. They were celebrating their new engagement at the Officer’s Club when they saw the General’s plane approach the runway.
It crashed, killing all on board. If the aide-de-camp had not have had the day off, he would have been on the plane.
Not only did life change for the General that day, it changed for the young soldier and his fiancé. Without a General, the young soldier received immediate orders to go overseas.
The couple had a hastily arranged wedding in the post chapel before he left.
When his time was over, he returned home to Kentucky.
Another life began, in more ways than one. In June, 1952, their life changed again. They had a son.
Far away in South Carolina, a little girl was just beginning to grow up. She listened to her mother read fairy tales about handsome princes who swept the princesses off their feet. She wanted to be a princess. She wanted to meet a prince.
It would take a lifetime to tell you how creatively God connected all the parts of this story.
But if the soldier had not asked for the day off …
And if the General had not said yes …
And if the soldier’s girlfriend had not said yes …
And if that great event had not happened in 1952 ..
And if that girl had never come to Kentucky ..
Then this story might have gone another way.
Thanks be to God for guiding us all on which paths to take and which ones not to take. He had a Plan and it was a good one.
And yes, you guessed it. I was the Carolina girl, and Jay was the prince who swept me off my feet. We thank God his Dad didn’t get on that plane and that his Mom said yes!😘
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear A Voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it!”
When I was little, I apparently had very klutzy dolls, because I was always bandaging up their “boo boos.”
When anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said, without hesitation, I wanted to be a nurse.
I entered nursing school in the fall of 1966.
I had visions of floating into each injured or sick person’s life and doing something magical (that “something” I expected to learn about in nursing school) that would fix everything.
However, right away I discovered that there were some illnesses far worse than the ones I knew about. There were pains that went beyond agony and did not stop.
There were people who died, some not peacefully.
I almost quit in my first year. I was making good grades, but my heart was being broken over and over again.
I remembered giving an impassioned speech in my senior high school career class. I ended with the statement, “To be a nurse is to walk with God!” I wondered where He was.
I did stay in college for four years and graduated on June 4, 1970 with a BSN.
This picture was taken on that day.
I had not learned anything magical about how to fix people, but I had learned a tremendous amount about God’s Presence in the midst of suffering.
I had learned how some people were able to suffer and still be witnesses of God’s Love.
And I had seen the nurses who never quit. They never gave up. They stayed in the trenches, so some could get out.
Graduation Day was only the beginning of the nursing journey. Life after that day took me to many places as a nurse. I would have to write a book to share it all (and who knows, maybe I will!).
The one thing that sums it all up is still “to be a nurse is to walk with God.” But remember God goes all kinds of places you might not choose.
I taught nursing after a long career of working in hospitals. A student asked me if I had it to do over again, if I would still want to be a nurse.
I had to do some serious thinking before I answered.
My answer is yes. When God taps you to go on a Mission with Him, it’s an honor. Accept it with humility.
Happy Memories to the 1970 Nursing Class of Medical University of South Carolina!
It still amazes me how a song from the past can magically take us back to where we were when we first heard it.
Tonight I heard the song, Magic Moments, sung by Perry Como. There is a good chance you youngsters have never heard of him.
But in the late 1950s, when I was a child, he hosted a variety show on tv. Perry started his career as a barber, but his smooth, easy voice was soon noticed, and the rest, as they say, was history.
My memories of Perry are only a gateway to my memories of what it was like to watch tv in those days.
The tv was much smaller than our big screen of today. There was no remote. Often the youngest, most able bodied person was tapped to go to the tv and turn a knob to change the channel.
There was no streaming. Channels were limited to what you could get from the tv station located closest to where you lived.
We lived in a small town between several major tv stations. We could get two channels from Augusta, Georgia, two channels from Savannah, Georgia and two channels from Charleston, South Carolina. We were amazed at all these choices.
There was a slight hitch, however, to getting a clear picture. The antenna on top of the house had to face in the perfect direction. To accomplish this, someone had to turn a device on top of the tv to move the antenna.
Periodically, usually after the winds of the thunderstorms that frequented that area, the antenna would get stuck.
When that happened, one person would have to go out and watch what was happening with the antenna while someone inside moved the device back and forth.
It usually required a third person to stand at the window and relay messages back and forth between the person watching the roof top antenna and the person inside fiddling with the tuner.
If that did not work, someone would have to go up to the roof and pull and push on the antenna to get it moving.
Of course, by this time, we may have missed the show. Again, there was no streaming. The show came on and ended at defined times. If you were not there, you missed it.
And speaking of missing it, many people took their bathroom breaks on the commercials. If anyone took too long, there were shouts of, “Hurry up! It’s starting!”
Since the time limit of the commercials was brief, usually only one person at a time could go to the bathroom. Anyone else would have to wait for the next commercial.
TV shows were family friendly. No cussing. No sex. Even married couples slept in separate beds. No political overtones except heavy doses of patriotism.
There were mysteries, westerns, cartoons, and family shows. There was comedy and variety shows. The choices were outlined in a little book called TV guide, which arrived in the mail every week.
We all reviewed the guide and agreed on what to watch. Since there were family favorites, it was usually an easy choice. But we understood that in the case of dissension, the parents decided.
There was only once I can remember that my mother cast a vote against my father. I begged to watch a much publicized episode of the Ed Sullivan show. He was going to introduce a young boys’ band from England. They were called The Beatles.
My mother thought we should see what all the fuss was about. My father tried to keep an open mind. But after a couple of lines, he folded his arms and said, “That’s disgusting. Turn that noise off.”
My mother suggested he go get a snack from the kitchen. He did. We watched it!
My father was a mailman and also an avid gardener. This meant weather forecasts were important to him. The world stopped when the weatherman came on (And yes, for some reason they were all men.)
Living between Augusta, Savannah and Charleston, he watched them all and tried to “average” them to figure out the weather for our location. I was amazed at how many times he got it right!
And remember, watching the different locations required a quick tune of the channel dial and turning the antenna.
Anyone watching the turning antenna on our roof every night between 6 and 7 probably shook their heads and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just Horace getting the weather!” (And sometimes people would call to see what he had calculated our weather to be.)
Those times were family times. We smiled, laughed and sometimes cried together. We watched the news and were amazed that we could find out what was happening outside our little town.
My parents would be amazed at the television of today. The big screen tv with surround sound and endless choices of what to watch is far more than they could have imagined back then.
Being able to watch when you decide to watch and just putting it on pause when you want to go to the bathroom would wow them.
But even more, having a remote where you can change the channel from the comfort of your chair, all without messing with an antenna, would be truly amazing to them.
I enjoy the way things are now, but I also enjoy the memories of that time from long ago when we shared magic moments.
If you would like to remember (or if you are younger, just imagine), close your eyes and listen to Perry. Here is the link.
We are excited to share we are close to publication of our next book!
Sent From Heaven, Why You Are Here was the first book of a projected Heaven trilogy.
Now comes the second book, Heaven On Earth, Your Mission! The first book explored how carefully God prepared us to come to earth. This book explores what we do while we are here.
As with so many other projects, what someone said of us long ago is true. I dream it up, but Jay makes it happen! I just write. Jay does all the rest. And “all the rest” is most of it.
However, all the credit goes to God, Who has allowed us to come along with Him while He continues to create.
Please pray for us as we enter the home stretch of another publishing adventure!
There are many moments that give previews of the adults children will become. Today I am thinking of one of them.
Our daughter was single digits in years. She attended a summer camp. Part of the activities was to compete in a swim meet at a local pool.
As the eager participants got ready to swim, they discovered the camp had made a mistake and somehow our daughter’s name was left off the list. Everyone felt bad, but since all lanes were filled, at first it appeared she would not be able to swim.
However, finally a decision was made she would swim … alone … after all the others had vacated the pool. One might have thought pity for the poor kid who got left out. But true to the woman she would become, she took that moment and made it her own.
She swam purposely and beautifully and all eyes were on her with awe and approval. When the moment of applause and cheers came, she knew they were all for her. And I was one proud Mama.
Various other times in life, it appeared the deck was stacked against her, but she did not give up. She has a courage and drive within her that is surely God given.
Sometimes the outcome was what she wanted. Sometimes it was not. But in every case, people remembered the courageous child/teen/young woman who gave it her all.
And many times on subsequent picks, she was selected because of the courage and skills she demonstrated earlier.
I think of her when I hear the song, The Impossible Dream, because it describes her so well. But I also smile to realize how many dreams were not impossible. Because she gave it all she had and trusted the rest to God, the impossible happened.
I can hardly wait to see what’s next.
“The Impossible Dream”
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest
To follow that star!
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far!
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause
And I know if I’ll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest
And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star!
music by Mitch Leigh
lyrics by Joe Darion
With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible!
I remember the moment it was confirmed I was going to have the joy of being a mother. There were no at home pregnancy tests in those days.
You had to go to the doctor and tell them about your new GI symptoms, increasing bust size, and menstrual periods being late.
You then had to have tests and wait for the results to see if you had a disease or something much more joyful to look forward to.
Jay and I were both home the afternoon the nurse in the doctor’s office called with the results. She said, “Congratulations, Mrs, Jones, you’re going to be a mother!”
And, of course, more accurately I was already a mother at that time. Jay and I sat on the floor under that wall phone and held each other, as it sank in that our lives were about to change monumentally.
And it did. From the first feeling that a butterfly was loose in my body to the poking, prodding and frank kicks from inside, Jr. made her presence known.
We had to call her junior because we did not know whether the baby was a boy or a girl. In those days, people often did not know until the baby was delivered.
Jr. and I had quite a bond after I passed the point of thinking I was going to throw her up. In fact, we had such a bond that she attempted to make it a permanent arrangement. The due date came and went, and she refused to budge.
At over ten months, I told the doctor if he did not do something, I would lie across the door to his office and make his patients step over me.
The threat worked. She was evicted the next day by C section. This was good with me since she was breech and the size of a one month old.
It’s been quite a few years now, but I still remember the wonder of holding that beautiful baby and realizing I was really a mother. Jr. became Jennifer.
And oh the stories I could tell about being a mother to a child, who was both sweet and sassy, charming, witty and at times too smart for me to have a good comeback. When you are ready to lecture your kid for what appears to be a problem and then they give you an explanation that you know should not make sense, but it does … you’re stuck.
Jennifer taught me so much about life. Her endless questions and comments caused me to reevaluate what I thought I knew.
We always talked. When she was younger, she rode with me. When she was old enough to drive, I rode with her. The car became our chat room. Problems were solved. Dreams were hatched.
I never understood the feelings of sadness I had after Jennifer was born. After all, my body was celebrating relief after the long pregnancy. Jennifer was still right there with me.
And yet a part of me wanted us to be attached forever. Maybe it was a premonition of what would come years later.
Motherhood is about giving your child both roots and wings. Roots were easier than wings. After navigating childhood and teen years, there came the big change.
College began to put physical distance between us. Careers after college increased the distance. We talked. We FaceTimed.
But I had to face the fact my baby was not an extension of me. She was not even a copy of me. She had grown up ideas that were different from me. We both had to learn that was ok.
And then came the next delight of life. Jennifer gave us a son in law. And I got to see my daughter as a wife. This started a whole new way to bond as we could talk woman to woman about our men.
And then came the next peak of motherhood. Jennifer became a mother and I became a grandmother!
And the joys just kept coming. She and the family moved back to our area. They live right down the road. So, not only do I get the joy of seeing the grandchild grow up, I get to see the mother Jennifer has become.
It’s quite an experience to hear her say things I once said to her. And also to hear what I did not say. I am a lot more relaxed with the grandchild, who pretty much has me wrapped around his little finger.
Grandma advocates for him regularly and tries to get his Mom to lighten up. When I tell her I am the mother and what I say should go, she tells me I am like the Queen Mother, loved and respected, but essentially having no power.
And so we continue on this Mother’s Day 2026. I am filled with gratitude that God gave me the honor of being a mother to a remarkable young woman who is also a wonderful mother.
As we now celebrate Mother’s Day, let us not forget there are many who cannot celebrate in the same joyful way.
I invite you to join me in prayer for these mothers.
Those who did not have loving mothers. Their memories are painful.
Those who were left by their mothers. A part of them remembers growing near their mother’s heart, but they never had the joy of a continued sharing of life.
Those who had abortions and regret it. Many carry the silent grief of all they could have had, but chose not to. No matter what the reason for their choice, their hearts still remember what they tried to get their bodies to forget.
Those who are raising children, who are challenged by disabilities. They carry burdens every day as they help their children face the world. They are tired. They are stressed. But they never give up.
Those whose children have left and never returned. They carry the pain of waiting for the phone call or waiting for the closed door to open again.
Those whose children have chosen badly, in spite of all their efforts to teach them and guide them. They are horrified, as they visit their children behind plate glass or in cemeteries. They still ask themselves what they could have done to prevent such tragedies.
Those whose children have died, whether it was from miscarriage, illness, accidents or senseless violence. They still seek answers. They still long for their children.
Those who long to be mothers, but it has not happened yet. They are already mothers in their hearts, but their bodies are not there yet.
Those whose mothers have died, whether young or old. They were not ready to let them go. They long to spend this Mother’s Day with them. They need their touch just one more time.
We see all of you in spirit and ask our Father God, Creator of the universe, to lift you up and strengthen you and give you renewed hope and faith.
You are treasured mothers and daughters. We remember you and lift you up.
As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you. Isaiah 66:13
Today I am remembering an important mother I never met … well not in the usual way anyway.
Her name is Amanda.
We are not related in the traditional way of kinship, but our DNA resides in a common place.
This is how it happened. Amanda was born and grew up in Honduras. She married and had four children.
It was not an easy life. There were financial challenges. In time she and her husband divorced.
Amanda came to the United States. She went through all the steps to become an American citizen.
She left her children in the care of her mother and sister in Honduras while she prepared a home for them in the United States.
When the time was right, she moved them to America. She instilled in them Christian values, a strong work ethic, and a desire to get a good education.
Her youngest son is our son in law. He is the father of our grandson. One of his greatest desires is to see his son grow up in a stable environment and have the opportunities to be all his son was created to be.
I had hoped to meet Amanda one day, but that will have to wait for heaven. Amanda was promoted a couple of years ago.
But one day, we will meet and perhaps we shall gush over our children and grandchildren and how God worked it all out to bring a young boy all the way from Honduras to eventually meet a young girl from Kentucky in a city far away from where either of them started.
And perhaps she and I shall recognize each other as distant relatives on earth, but daughters of the same Father in Heaven.
Thank you, Amanda, for never giving up on your dreams.
Thank you for assuring your children were cared for while you prepared a place for them.
Thank you for instilling in them the values that count.
I am sure you are proud of the man your son has become. And we are thankful he is a part of our family now too.
We are thankful for the legacy you left on earth and we will remember you in love. Until we meet in person one day, I know you will be enjoying Heaven.
