Price of a Thank You


Dear John,

You may not remember me. It’s been quite awhile.  My name is Laurie. I was the lady with the blue Toyota stranded on the side of the road. It may not have seemed like it at the time, but I really appreciate your helping us with the flat tire. I was nervous and jittery, and I think you thought it was due to the tire. But the truth is that my children and I were on the run from my abusive husband. I was terrified that he would pass by or some lunatic would stop and do something awful to me and the kids. But you showed nothing, but kindness. In fact, I think you must have known something was up because you gave me your card. I didn’t plan on ever contacting you, but you crossed my mind today . I just want to thank you again for helping us. May God bless you.



As John read the email, tears streamed from his eyes. He had no intentions on reading anything. His goal was just to send a note to his mother explaining why he did what he did. John knew this was a sign. A sign that life was not over. That the events that led up to this moment of depression were just that, moments. He was about to make a permanent decision on something temporary. Hadn’t he preached to the youth about the importance of faith and talking to others when problems arose? He was sitting in the position of being a hypocrite. A youth pastor who talked the talk, but didn’t walk the walk. How many young souls would go in the opposite direction based on his actions?

Sure it was an embarrassment to find out his wife was sleeping with a member of the congregation. Not just anyone – his best friend. And yes the pending divorce was painful and the debts seem to rise with only one income now. The side glances from members and even the senior pastor placing someone else above him were frustrating. He thought about leaving the church, but this was all he had known. John felt trapped and useless, but was it worth death?

He read over the email again. More tears fell. He pushed the gun away and reached for the Bible on the far end of the desk. The gesture was symbolic in that John had let the world dictate his fate. He had not drawn near to God to help him. He opened the book and pages upon pages of highlighted text spoke to his wounded spirit. When he was filled, he dropped to his knees to pray. He finished by giving thanks to God.   As he rose, his perspective changed.  Despair was turned to hope.  He found faith again even though the situation had not changed.  He knew his limited sight was matchless compared to God.  Surely, He would see John through.   Then he proceeded to respond to Laurie’s email.


Hi Laurie,

Yes, I remember you. I’m so glad to hear that you and your children are doing well. I did sense that something was wrong and thought I’d give you my card just in case. I never knew that doing so would inspire your email and the impact it would have. Thank you for reaching out. May God bless you and your family.



Is Age Just a Number? What’s the Best One?

Late last week an acquaintance and I were discussing how we envisioned life in our early twenties.  As I reflected on my own expectations from that time, I realized that I’ve accomplished much.  Many of the things that I set out for, I’m accomplished such as finishing college and working in my desired field.  I’ve wanted to travel across this country, and I’ve done that.  I’ve even worked on some of my “isms” that back then I thought would last forever.

It would be a lie to say that I didn’t wish for anything to be different.  Of course there were low points that I would have liked to skip over.  At the same time, those experiences helped me to be who I am today.  So, am I unhappy with myself or my life?  Not at all.  In fact, I’m trying to think of more things to add to my bucket list. 🙂

As you look back over your life, do you greet the journey with joy or regret?


Melanie V. Logan


“Write about one thing that is special about being your current age and why.” ?” (Tiana Lopez, Zealous Scripts)

As a young’in I used to think that anything past the age of 25 was just old. Once I reached 25, old seemed like 50 and beyond. Now that I’m 40, I’m not so sure what old is anymore.

Watching people like Betty White and others in their 90s and centennial years shows that being youthful is not just an appearance, but a state of mind as well.   In recent weeks, I’ve seen a 98 year old woman break the record for the 100 meter dash. Mind you, it was for her age group, but still. Then there was something on tv where two 80-somethings discussed the fads and entertainers of the present. They knew a lot more than I did.

So to stay on track with the writing…

View original post 158 more words

*** Quantum Leap Challenge ***

wpid-wp-1413421170094.jpegOver the last few weeks, I’ve been in writing prompt heaven.  And now that Musings by Melanie Dawnn is about to turn 1, I wanted to commemorate the occasion with something creative and interesting – a writing challenge!

The goal of the challenge is to encourage subscribers and visitors of the blog to put their thinking caps on, and write about a specific topic from a different perspective.  So, without further adieu, here are the challenge details….

1. Pick a person from any era, and relive/rewrite history (similar to Sam Beckett’s character on Quantum Leap).  Describe what you’d change and why.  Include what impact you think this would make on history.


2. Choose a point in your own life you’d like to go back and rewrite. Give insight on what you’d do differently.  How do you think this would change the outcome of your life?  What affect would this change have on the world and/or those you care about?

Have fun with this challenge!  Think outside the box.  Be as creative and descriptive as you want.   Submit a link to your post in the comments section below by November 14th.  If selected, your post (and blog/website) will be showcased on Musings by Melanie Dawnn on November 17th.

Looking forward to reading your posts.  Good luck and Happy Leaping!!! 🙂

 XOXO, Melanie Dawnn

Photo: Wikia

Copyright © 2013-2014 ✽ All Rights Reserved

Writing Prompt: Happiness

happiness-balloonsWhat is happiness? Is it a fleeting moment of pleasure or when things go our way? Is it a consistent feeling that happens everyday without thought? How would you describe your happiness? How is it achieved?

For me, happiness feels more like fleeting moments. In other times, either I’m consumed with what I call life…work, family, and other thoughts or actions that require my attention. When I do feel happy, it’s usually when I’m relaxed and doing something that makes me feel good. Like being able to sleep until my heart’s content and wake up feeling relaxed and refreshed. Or sitting in the park writing about the creative and imaginative things that come to mind. It’s even in the times when I travel to new places or experiences encountered. Overall, when I assess the happy moments of my life they have been ones that were the simplest. No huge parade of things. Just time enjoying peace and people who I love and care about.

 What’s your happiness?

 XOXO, Melanie Dawnn

Photo: An Apple a Day

Copyright © 2013-2014 ✽ All Rights Reserved

Writing Prompt: Anger

this_is_my_angry_face_2_by_reitanna_seishin-d4ief9uWhat is it that drives us to anger? Is it the conflict between what we expect and what we don’t get? Is it the clash between our beliefs and those of others? Or is it just something unexplainable that gets under our skins to the point of wanting to scream or claim straight lunacy? Whatever the cause may be, person, situation, thing, or something still unknown, being able to control the anger emotion is key. It can be the difference between being at peace within when all hell is breaking loose around you and being tried for a crime.

 I have found that there are moments lately where some of the situations in my life have made me very mad or angry. Mostly because the events that have occurred failed my expectation or overstepped boundaries that had been set. I’m the type of person that will chalk the first incident up to a “didn’t know”. After that, my inner thermometer starts to rise.

It’s frustrating to feel, or rather think, that there is no control over a situation. But what helps is looking at it in a different way. It’s like framing what may be an ugly or unflattering picture in a new frame. Instead of letting the situation get the best of us, sometimes it’s best to find positive outlets or distance ourselves (when possible) from the conflict.

 How do you deal with anger???

 XOXO, Melanie Dawnn

Photo: Reitanna-Seishin

Copyright © 2013-2014 ✽ All Rights Reserved

One Fine Day

popularscreensaversOn Tuesday, Felicia waited for her husband to leave for work and the kids to school. She hurried upstairs to grab the suitcase she had packed little by little over the course of the last week. She signed into her other email account created just for this adventure to make sure that her reservations were set. She decided that she’d use cash just to make sure there was no trail. Once she had what she needed, she printed off her documents and then logged out – making sure to clear any trace from the internet history. Grabbing her purse and keys, she walked towards the side door to the garage – stopping to look back at the life she was trying to escape. One last thought rushed into her mind. Should she leave a note or just vanish without a trace? She opted for the former thinking it selfish if anyone worried about her. Taking pen to paper, Felicia wrote: Continue reading “One Fine Day”

Comfortable in My Own Skin

pixabayI was born on a Tuesday…no, wait….a Thursday.  Well I guess at my age now, it really doesn’t matter.  Hi, my name is Anne, and I’m 74 years young.  I used to not say things like that because my mind wasn’t right.  Well, not in a mentally disordered sense, but just my way of thinking.  My only regret, is that I didn’t learn about thinking better, sooner.  Would have made a lot of different decisions if I had.  I know you didn’t come here to hear about my problems.  But I’ll share a piece of my life with you.  Maybe it’ll help some youngins get it together before their bones turn brittle.

When I was a little girl, we lived in a small clapboard house.  Nothing special.  Two bedrooms, a tiny bathroom, and an even tinier kitchen.  I know this was the best Mama and Daddy could do, but I used to be ashamed.  You see, the kids I went to school with lived in pretty brick homes near town.  They never made fun of me or nothing, but I just didn’t feel like we were the same.  There were many other things we didn’t have in common like clothes, race, or things that happened inside the home.  So I withdrew.  Well, not totally.  Had one friend in grade school, but her family moved away by the time we were in high school.
Continue reading “Comfortable in My Own Skin”