Today it is my pleasure to introduce you to Shannon O’Donnell, a writer I recently connected with online! This week, Shannon launches her book Love’s Memory: The Scotts of Mountain Ridge Book One, which she describes as “a story of one woman’s journey to wholeness.” I’ve had the pleasure of reading Shannon’s book this week. Half way through the book, I realized this work of fiction very closely resembles the real life stories I like to tell on this blog – seeing through God’s eyes, listening to His promptings, inspiring, sharing hope and encouragement, believing our lives can be redeemed at any moment. In Love’s Memory, Valerie finds herself in a set of circumstances less than ideal. Valerie meets an older woman named Bessie who follows God’s promptings and takes Valerie under her wings. Bessie, as Shannon shares, is “a praying warrior…strategically placed in the path of [Valerie], and eventually her husband. Once again, God’s love and power is demonstrated in an undeniable and glorious way.”

Please welcome Shannon O’Donnell as she guest posts about a woman who encouraged her to write. And make sure to check out her website for more information on her book, links to purchase Love’s Memory through Amazon, and an opportunity to receive some amazing gifts! 

One of the most gratifying things to a writer is having a great story to tell. The thrill of penning thoughts, emotions and imagination into a tale, I suspect, is similar to a runner winning a race—that moment when a splash of endorphins hits his nerves, sending the signal surge forward. When writing, I call this experience the “writer’s high.” It’s that moment when everything falls into place, when your fingers can’t type fast enough, when the juices are in full swing and a good story is birthed.

I loved writing my story Love’s Memory: The Scotts of Mountain Ridge Book One. I loved my characters. The Scott family is fictional but their story is not uncommon to many today. Broken hearts, broken dreams, broken relationships are common to all of us. Who hasn’t felt the sting of rejection, of disappointment, of betrayal from ones we love? That’s life…and the lessons we learn through it are what make our life worthwhile or unbearable. The theme of my story is forgiveness. How well we learn to forgive will determine the degree of happiness that we experience in day to day living.

My favorite character in Love’s Memory is Bessie. I think everyone who reads my book either has a Bessie in their life or wishes they did. In fact, the world needs more Bessies. The world, especially the Christian world, lacks mature Godly mentors. I dedicated my book to one such Bessie in my life: Mrs. Mitchell.

I was fourteen years old and still quite a stranger to my new Nebraska home when I met Mrs. Mitchell. I had been an air force brat and lived in six different homes by the time I was thirteen. My father retired and at age thirty-nine moved his family to a small but beautiful town in Northeast Nebraska. My English and history teacher was a lovely woman that I called Mrs. Mitchell. Not only was Mrs. Mitchell an incredible teacher who was able to keep this restless teenager enthralled in her lessons, she was a lover of God.

A revival had broken out in a small Methodist church that year. Mrs. Mitchell was a member of it. I remember her wearing a cross necklace of nails to school during that time. I was intrigued by this ardent display of  faith. I wasn’t a religious person. My family attended church but God was never spoken of at home. But I remember hanging around Mrs. Mitchell’s classroom with other students after school and asking her questions about God. She listened with a smile on her face, and always referred us to the Bible for answers.

It was also at this time, at a parents-teachers conference, that I overheard her tell my parents that I would write books ones day. She then turned to me and nodded, “You will.” I remember the feeling of wonder that filled me at those words. Me? Write a book?

The next year I found myself in a different building. I was in high school now. Mrs. Mitchell was busy with a new group of students down the road in the Middle School. The revival had simmered to a slow burn. Life was status quo, you might say.  But seeds had been planted in me and over the years, other Bessies entered my life; watering those seeds, fertilizing them here and there, until they blossomed into a passion for God and for the written word.

I haven’t seen Mrs. Mitchell for years. But one of my greatest joys will be when I am able to present her with a copy of my book Love’s Memory, autographed by me, but dedicated to her. I am grateful to Mrs. Mitchell and pray that I may become a Mrs. Mitchell to many before God calls me home.

Shannon O’Donnell

 

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the wjords of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is DIVE.

There were at least three Meet Me At This Moment posts I could have written this week, but didn’t.

In which my daughter so innocently told me that her friend’s mom “never makes food like that…she makes all homemade food,” as I was making mac and cheese and hot dogs and I just needed to get something on the table.

In which I spent at least two hours searching and scouring a mall for the right dress to wear to my husband’s work party next week. And never found a thing that would satisfy.

In which I heard an outright lie in that dark place that’s been making me feel overwhelmed…you aren’t doing any of it well.

I wrote only one and didn’t post any. I’ve decided I won’t give those moments any glory. I’m tired of the muck, the mud, the ugliness of all that.

For I know I am called to be someone much better, to do something much greater. I want to DIVE into who I am. Oh no, I no longer wish to just dive into anything and everything. I’m ready to dive into God’s unique plan, just for me. And if that means changing things, taking new paths, diving deeper than ever before? I will.

Two years ago this month, my husband and I had just spent a long time praying whether we were going to have a third child. Our answer was YES. A month after that decision had been made, I watched the Grammy Awards and saw this band, Mumford and Sons, for the first time. There was something about their diving into the music, their diving into their craft, that captured my attention. I think of this performance often and admire these men for their courage to stand tall in their identity. Today, I challenge you to watch. Watch them literally dive into the music, into who they are as individuals. That guy on the keyboard? That guy with the bobbing yellow hat? They’re not so worried about making mistakes or doing it wrong or anything like that. And there’s no way you can convince me they care what people think. They’re just there to be who they are, to share their wonderful selves, their wonderful gifts with the world.

And if you’re actually going to watch? Be patient. It might take a few seconds for you to really see those heads moving, diving deep, deep into the music.

Mumford & Sons, The Avett Brothers and Bob Dylan Live at 2011 Grammys from Yaroslav Kunitsyn on Vimeo.

For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7

Amy

I’ve crossed paths with this man more than once. This man who labels himself HOMELESS VETERAN on cardboard. On a street corner. In wealthy suburbs.

I saw him 10 minutes south at the top of an exit last spring and summer. Week after week, he’d be at the same spot. I saw him in passing from one therapy visit to the next, always running short on time. Only once did I have something to give him. I found it curious that he always stood at the same place, and I always saw him at the same time. Every week.

Months passed without seeing this gentleman, but just three weeks ago I saw him north 10 minutes at the top of another exit.

Gathered around the table, I talked about this man. How curious it is that I continue to see him, how long it has been.

Last week I found him again in this northern suburb, now in the heart of the city just two blocks from a mom with a fur coat and daughter with a fur vest crossing the street into a mall. My car approached him at a corner. This time I had something. Gave him a bottle of water and a bag of Doritos out the window. They were the only tangible things I had to give.

Thought a bit.

Drove around, watched him at the stoplight.

Headed for Arby’s to buy a sandwich, then realized I might be able to provide something more lasting than Arby’s for this man that has been on the streets, HOMELESS VETERAN sign in hand for months.

Scratched down the name of my church, names of the pastors, the street name, service times. All praying he might discover something greater, some help, some hope.

In a matter of seconds as I passed in my car, I handed him this scratched on piece of paper, he looked down and seemed to read each word as important. I uttered “I have seen you many times,” asked if he would like prayer from my blog readers, if I could take his picture.

“YES,” he said.

Join me? Take an opportunity to pray for a man in need? A veteran in need? And pray that next time I respond the way God would have me?

I know that the LORD secures justice for the poor and upholds the cause of the needy. Psalm 140:12

Amy

This post was written as part of the Five Minute Friday link up. I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only. In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is OPPORTUNITY. 

Tuesday, October 16, 2012. Our one day in Haiti, the day that changed me forever. (Read full post here.)

It had been a long day. I was not there to sunbathe. I recognized the need, and I knew it with all my heart. God led us down a path that culminated in me scratching names on a little piece of white paper. These names, these men, the needs they had. Two of them needed clothes for their children. And although I could not see their children, could not see their homes or their circumstances, I could feel it. I knew with every fiber of my being they needed these things.

I acted, I moved, I brought my children and we provided. Not nearly enough, but we provided.

We gave.

But sitting on my heart remains one thing. One. big. regret.

I was able to provide for all of these men but one.

Antonio. He needed clothes for his two-year-old boy. I had a nine-year-old boy, and I was not courageous enough to ask fellow cruise ship passengers, random moms on the beach, if they would be willing to give the clothes off their sons’ backs for Antonio’s son. If I could turn back time, I would strip away all of my pride….and just ask. For Antonio.

The not asking has turned my world upside down. Everything looks different in light of Antonio and his unmet need. The sound of his voice, the way he asked not once but three times for clothes for his child, it will all be forever etched in my mind. And although it has haunted me, made me want to set out on a search for a future cruise passenger who can deliver a package to Antonio for me, I know this experience will ultimately be a blessing in disguise.

Since Antonio, because of Antonio, I experience life differently. Every day.

This just one example…

All it took was one foot in this magical place called the Disney store. Antonio came to mind, tears welled in my eyes. Such an unexpected place to experience memories of that day in Haiti.

Joy to the World and Hark the Herald Angels Sing played in the background.

And my eyes landed on this shiny red hat. Although Antonio’s son may never set his sights on this sparkly red hat that symbolizes youth and fun and play, I can give shelter, protection.

Although Antonio’s son may never find a pair of shiny red boots under a Christmas tree, I can give hope for a boy to keep on walking.

Although Antonio’s son may never get a cool Toy Story bowl for his goldfish crackers or a Toy Story boot cup for his juice, I can give food and drink.

Although some little girl will never experience girlish games of dress up, I can give confidence to press on with a brave and beautiful spirit, a sense of worth.

 

And although some little girl may never get to look in a mirror as glorious and as wondrous as this, I can give her the greatest gift, the greatest reflection of all. That she was made in the image of God, knit together for a very special purpose here on earth, that she is precious and beautiful in His sight.

So today my pride is stripped. I come to you on behalf of little children in poverty around the world and ask for you to take a second look, think about what extra you might give this Christmas.

Compassion International has a goal of raising $20,000 from the Christmas Gift Catalog this month. There are 2,000 Compassion Bloggers. If each site raises $100 from the Christmas Gift Catalog, the goal will be met, and thousands of children and families in poverty will be given hope this Christmas and beyond.

Today, I commit to giving through the Compassion International Christmas Gift Catalog in honor of Antonio and his son.

Will you consider giving…

$4 to protect a child from parasites?

$13 to help a malnourished child survive through emergency feeding?

$20 a Christmas gift for a mom and a baby?

$23 help build water reservoirs for children and families?

$25 to help a mom towards a safe birth?

…or more?

Give creatively, give compassionately this year at the Compassion International Christmas Gift Catalog. To help a child, a mom, a dad this Christmas.

Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Luke 6:38

Amy