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“Thank you for your Network Article. It’s the first time I have seen anyone understand an articulate our vision for the ministry as well as Katie has done. I even think Katie did a better job than I might have done myself.“
- Carolyn Thigpen, Founder of CMI
We sometimes get a “thank you” from one or two people, sometimes a complaint, but rarely such high praise for an article. Thanks, Katie!! You did us all proud."
- Marty Davis, Director of Communications for Mission to the World
“This is excellent. Friendly. Clearly stated.”
– Dwayne Bassett, Sprocket Creative, commenting on some writing work I did for his client
Excerpt from "Hope Survives Chaos: A War Memoir" by Ryner Wittgens with Katie Weaver
Plumes of smoke now rising from the valley below, our group stayed nestled in the sanctuary of the woods, holding our collective breath, waiting for the attack to be over so we could return to our homes. But something went dreadfully wrong in our hiding place. We looked through the growing streams of smoke and saw bombers coming right toward the hills where we hid. They we not supposed to be here! These raids were only reserved for the city and industrial targets, why weren’t the planes turning around after their bombing mission? But we had only moments to speculate before the din of the air raid sirens gave way to the much eerier drone of bombers directly overhead. Seconds later bombs were raining down on us. Our Mother screamed at the impending destruction and instinctively threw herself on top of her children as we huddled together. Large trees crashed down all around us and bombs pummeled the earth, creating huge craters all around the area. In the melee, my older brother Bernie, who was with a neighbor’s family nearby, was struck on the head by a flying rock from a bomb that had exploded less than thirty steps from him. The neighbors hastily bandaged his bleeding wound, which was severe, but not life threatening. More trees were felled by the onslaught and the woods echoed with screams for help from the wounded. All the while we huddled together, our eyes hidden from the carnage by mother’s arms and a large blanket.
