Excerpt from the Opening: Why This Book Exists
Picture this: It’s the holidays. The table is set, the food smells amazing, and everyone’s gathered for what should be a warm family moment. Then someone mentions politics.
Within minutes, Uncle Joe’s face is turning the same shade as the cranberry sauce. Cousin Sarah is stress-eating her third helping of stuffing. Grandpa is gripping his fork like it’s a weapon. And little Tommy—who just wanted more pie—is wondering why all the grown-ups are yelling about something called “the electoral college” when he’s pretty sure college is for big kids.
Sound familiar?
Welcome to modern America, where family gatherings have become conversational minefields, Facebook has turned into a battlefield, and “How about that weather?” has become our national emergency exit strategy.
Here’s the thing: We’re stuck with each other. Moving to Mars isn’t an option (yet). Unfollowing everyone you disagree with just creates an echo chamber. And joining a monastery in Tibet, while tempting, doesn’t actually solve anything—plus, the Wi-Fi situation is reportedly terrible.
So let’s do this differently. Let’s talk. Let’s disagree without destroying each other. Let’s debate without dehumanizing. Let’s remember that the person on the other side of the political divide is still a person—with a family, with fears, with hopes, and with a story.
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CLOUD PEOPLE: HOPE BEYOND THE STORMS is a powerful memoir of survival, resilience, and the human spirit’s capacity to heal.
On her third birthday, Miriam is violently thrown down a cement staircase by her father. Too young to speak of her trauma, she turns to drawing, with her older brother translating her pain into words.
Growing up amidst fear and cruelty, Miriam finds love and support in a few caring figures—her adopted mother, a kind neighbor, her maternal grandmother, her stepfather, and her brother—nurturing a resilience that refuses to break.
At sixteen, Miriam faces another unimaginable trial: pregnancy by a rapist and the violent opposition of her mother, who drags her to back-door clinics up and down the East Coast. Ultimately, she makes a life-altering choice that no woman should ever have to face.
With honesty and compassion, BJ Rae blends lived experience and counseling wisdom, offering a story of heartbreak, hope, and the journey from victim to survivor to thriver.
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“I thought I knew pain. What a foolish assumption that was. What ambushed me that Tuesday morning wasn’t mere discomfort—it was biological warfare conducted by my own nervous system. Every heartbeat detonated glass fragments beneath my skin. The RV’s couch transformed into medieval torture equipment, and each breath became a calculated negotiation with agony that made my son’s birth seem like a gentle massage. Outside, morning commuters rushed toward normal lives while I lay trapped inside this metal cocoon. I was discovering that pain is a geography of territories mapped in screaming nerve endings, with borders drawn by raw flesh that interpreted even a slight brush of fabric against my skin as assault with a deadly weapon.
Note to self: when your body stages a coup, it doesn’t bother with a gentle takeover.
“I used to think capturing hope meant permanently solving all my problems, but I’ve discovered it actually means sleeping peacefully surrounded by love while finding miracles in the most ordinary moments—one stuffy nose at a time.”
Also By BJ
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About the Author
Something to Think About…
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