Today is is with great pleasure I bring to you a pair of sisters I met at a women's conference in September. The Writing Sisters is comprised of Betsy Duffy and Laurie Myers and they'd like to talk to us about Prayer, so without much further ado here they are....
Prayer Made the Difference
The Shepherd’s Song was a different writing experience for
us. After twenty years of writing
children’s books for the general market we were now writing our first book for
God. The books we wrote before were from
a Christian worldview. What made this
book different was our desire to submit every word to God and to reflect in our
words what He would say. An overwhelming task on our own.
But what if we could connect with God and hear from Him as
we worked. C.S. Lewis wrote once about
“taking dictation” from God. The
connection with God was key. But how?
As we shifted from our writing for the general market to the
idea that we would write for God, prayer became important and critical. We prayed individually, together in groups
with others and we enlisted a prayer team to pray for the writing of the book.
Three times stand out as we reflect back over how prayer
entered our work and kept us grounded and focused as we wrote The Shepherd’s
Song.
The first came at
the beginning of our efforts. When we began writing together, we were full of
enthusiasm and ideas. We both took off
with to do lists and ideas and quickly we became stressed and anxious. A book by Andy Stanley, Visioneering pulled us back and helped us focus.
The book challenged us to look at whether we prayed first,
then acted, or acted first, then prayed.
The question was convicting - the notebooks full of our plans and ideas
were the evidence against us. In our
enthusiasm we had gotten ahead of God.
What to do? We stopped and made
two decisions:
We decided we would stop all action and spend one week just
praying for the book and for direction.
And we also agreed we would never move forward on an idea or
action unless we were unified through prayer about the decision.
Throughout the week anxiety vanished. Clarity came, peace
descended. As we individually
surrendered the work to God He brought us into unity.
The second prayer
time came later. The book was finished
and accepted and paralysis set in. Now
what. The second book, The Father’s
Prayer, was drafted and outlined but we were blocked. At the same time we were working to build a
platform and determine what we should be doing for marketing the first book.
Was it right? How did
we know? We stopped again and brought
the work and ourselves into a time of deeper prayer.
This time God spoke to us through a book by Mark
Batterson, Draw the Circle, The Forty Day Prayer Challenge. For forty days we read the devotions and “circled”
our work in prayer during our personal time with God. It was amazing how God used these devotions
to speak to us separately and together as we submitted to Him through these
prayer times.
Reading this devotional series together and praying through
Batterson’s forty days helped us to connect with each other and with God and
allowed God access to us through our time with Him.
The third was a prayer
for protection. During the year leading up to publication we both went through
difficult times with friends and family, mostly medical issues. We were both pulled off track and struggled
to keep focus while undergoing struggles to take care of those we loved. We remembered our great grandfather’s favorite
scripture from Ephesians 6, the armor of God.
We began to pray this daily for each other. Each morning we would turn to this passage
and pray each article of armor for the other –belt, shield, helmet, breastplate,
sword, shoes. As soon as we started, peace reigned and through our outward
circumstances did not change, we had peace and we able to resume our work on
the book.
The end result?
We don’t know how the book will be received or what will
happen as it goes out into the world but the end result for us is peace. We have no regrets about the writing, no
doubts about any decision along the way.
We have assurance that the book is in God’s hands to use as He
will.
Prayer is the key.
The Writing Sisters, Betsy
Duffey and Laurie Myers were born into a writing family, and began critiquing
manuscripts at an early age for their mother, Newbery winner Betsy Byars.
They went on to become authors of more than thirty-five children’s novels.
Their first book for adults is The Shepherd’s Song,
Howard Books, March 2014. Find out more by visiting their website and facebook page and be sure to sign up for their newsletter!
Follow
the incredible journey of one piece of paper—a copy of Psalm 23—as it travels
around the world, linking lives and hearts with its simple but beautiful
message.
The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures…
Shortly
before a tragic car accident, Kate McConnell wrote down the powerful words of
Psalm 23 on a piece of paper for her wayward son. Just before she loses
consciousness, Kate wonders if she’s done enough with her life and prays,
“Please, let my life count.”
Unbeknownst
to Kate, her handwritten copy of Psalm 23 soon begins a remarkable journey
around the world. From a lonely dry cleaning employee to a soldier wounded in Iraq,
to a young Kurdish girl fleeing her country, to a Kenyan runner in the Rome
Invitational marathon, this humble message forever changes the lives of twelve
very different people. Eventually, Kate’s paper makes it back to its starting
place, and she discovers the unexpected ways that God changes lives, even
through the smallest gestures.
With
beautiful prose evocative of master storyteller Andy Andrews’s The Butterfly
Effect, this story will touch your heart and remind you of the ways God
works through us to reach beyond what we can imagine.
The Shepherd's Song: A Story of Second Chances can be purchased at Amazon in Hardcover, Paperback & Kindle. Also at Barnes and Noble Hardcover, Paperback, Nook and Large Print!
Now, enjoy an Excerpt:
Kate McConnell opened her eyes.
Where was she? There were bright lights above her. Movement. The sound of a
siren wailing.
She closed her eyes and opened them
again, hoping somehow this all would go away. It didn’t.
An ambulance. She was in an
ambulance.
What had happened?
A man’s voice called out behind
her. “Female, age about forty-five, multiple injuries. BP: ninety over sixty. Pulse:
one-forty. Respirations: twenty-five, short and shallow.”
Each bump and jolt of the ambulance
brought pain, crushing pain in her chest and stabs of pain down her right leg.
Kate tried to grab her chest, but her arms were strapped down. She shivered
uncontrollably. Her blue sweater and pants were covered in something wet—gooey and
wet. Blood. He was talking about her.
A brief memory came—her car sliding
on the slick road, the sound of breaking glass and crunching metal. A car
accident. Panic rose in her chest. She had been in an accident.
The newspaper would later say it
was the worst traffic accident ever on that section of I-95 between Washington,
D.C., and Baltimore—twenty-five cars, six semis, and one bus. The temperature
Thursday had been fifty-five degrees, a beautiful day. Then, Friday, it fell to
thirty-one, unusual for October. A sudden snowstorm dropped more than two
inches of snow in just ten minutes, creating whiteout conditions that took everyone
by surprise, including the drivers on I-95.
The voice behind her continued its
calm clinical assessment. “In and out of consciousness. Possible head injuries.”
“Help,” she whispered. Each breath
was raw. There wasn’t enough air. Dizziness swept over her. She tried again.
“Help.”
“Hold on. Try to stay awake.” A
young man leaned over her, making eye contact. His voice was calm, but she saw
fear in his eyes.
She tried to nod but couldn’t.
“Be still; we’re on the way to the
hospital.”
Everything in her wanted to fight
free of the straps and the stretcher, but she couldn’t even move her head. Pain
radiated from her chest and leg.
The voice began again. “Bleeding profusely
from a gash in right leg—looks like an open fracture. Possible internal injuries.”
For a few seconds there was
silence, the only sound the hum of tires on the road.
“Will do. We’ll be there in five to
eight minutes, depending on traffic.”
What had happened? Kate remembered
her morning, speeding from one activity to the next, pushing her old station
wagon to the point where it shook. An early-morning run to the grocery store,
then back home, then a twenty-mile drive to deliver dinner to a friend who was
recuperating from surgery, then a stop to drop off the dry cleaning, then five
more things on her to-do list. Then the snow had started.
The cleaner’s. She had been trying
to get back to the dry cleaner’s, but for what?
She felt a hand on her forehead,
and she opened her eyes. The young man’s face came into view again. His nervous
eyes studied her.
“What’s your name?”
She tried to focus. Her name?
“Kate . . . McConnell.” She gasped
out each word.
“Your birthday?”
She tried to come up with the
answer, but it was too confusing. Tears welled up.
“It’s all right. Just stay with
me.”
“What hap—?” She wanted to finish
the sentence but could not.
“You were in a car accident on the
interstate.” He held her arm, feeling for a pulse. “There was a pile-up. It’s a
mess out there.”
Her mouth opened and closed with a
question unasked. She wanted to say the words, but nothing came out.
“Matt,” she finally gasped out the
name of her son. “John.” Her husband.
“No one was with you in the car.
Just rest and stay calm. We’ve got you.”
She could feel the sway of the
ambulance as it passed other cars. The voice faded in and out. She closed her eyes.
A new thought came. She might die.
Would it be like this, the end? So fast? With so much undone?
Kate’s mind drifted back and forth,
weaving in and out of the events of the past week.
“I don’t think my life matters,”
she had told a friend. “I’ve been a Christian for almost twenty-five years, and
I haven’t accomplished anything. I can’t point to one single person that I’ve
had an impact on, even in my own family.”
“Of course you have. You serve on
the church worship committee, you deliver meals every week to people in need,
and you’re always writing down scriptures for people.”
“But are those the important
things?” Kate had asked. “Do those things matter?”
John. He mattered. And Matt.
“Oh, Mom,” she could hear Matt say.
“You don’t believe all that stuff.”
Matt, who had drifted away from
faith when he’d started college, now refused to go to church at all.
She couldn’t get through to him.
Was she really dying?
Someone lifted her eyelid. It was
the young man. He looked closely into her eye, as if he was examining her soul.
“Stay with me now.”
She felt the ambulance sway, then
the jolt of a sharp turn.
“Help,” Kate gasped again as pain
stabbed through her side.
“Stay with me.”
A wave of dizziness. Then nothing.
Hope you enjoyed this Thursday Thoughts... I sure did!
Hope to see you next week but until then....Take care & Be Blessed!
PamT
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