A Seed and A Prayer
Looking back, I believe the seed for I SAY A PRAYER FOR ME: One Woman’s Life of Faith and Triumph published in hardcover in November 2002 and trade paperback in October 2003 by Walk Worthy Press/Warner Books was planted on a cool, dry September evening in 1998. Discouraged and perplexed, I called a childhood friend and confessed, “I pour my heart into the stories I write and all I get back are letters from editors saying how powerful my stories are and yet they reject them. If my stories are so good, why won’t the Lord allow magazines to publish them?”
My friend’s words were like cool well water on a hot and dusty day. I felt myself refreshed and revived with every word she spoke, so I grabbed a pen and took notes. With authority—she spoke and with great abandon—I listened:
“The stories you wrote have not found homes because they ARE a book—it’s all one story.
God WILL use your writing to free people up—but He will use this process to free you up first. You cannot free anyone else until you are free.”
By faith, I received those words as if from the mouth of God. So, I prayerfully typed the notes and filed them away.
In August 1999, I felt led to encourage friends. Thus began my daily email series, FOOD FOR THE SPIRIT.
The response? “Why are you sending us other folks’ stuff? You are an author now. We want to hear what YOU have to say!”
Although taunted by insecurities, I sat at my computer, prayed and typed, “Show me, Lord.” Within a few minutes, my creative juices were flowing and I followed my memories like colorized movies projected on a theater screen. The next day I e-mailed an original life-story to 16 friends.
By the week’s end, wonderful responses began pouring in from people all over the world. Seeing how God was using what I wrote fueled me to keep writing.
As the writing of each story neared its’ end, it felt like I was dancing in a vast, freshly-cut field. With my head to the sky, I basked in the warmth of God’s light as it healed the old and newly broken places in my life and heart. It was like dancing—undisturbed—on Holy Ground.
Then, a need to pray came over me and with eyes closed I heavy-handedly tapped out the prayers on the keyboard. The prayers became a vital part of the story—as did the verses from the Bible. Together they were a kind of adhesive that sealed the freshly written stories.
Soon my son and friends proclaimed, “THESE STORIES that you write ARE your NEXT BOOK!”
“Yeah, sho’ you right.” My unrelenting insecurities vied to keep the truth from me. But in the stillness of the night, the Lord impressed upon my heart that it was so. This was to be the book that was prophesized through my friend, on a cool, dry and desperate night in September 1998.
© 2004, 2003 Stanice Anderson, www.stanice.com
