Be Encouraged

The other day I got an email from my friend Maralee. (Maralee is a ventriloquist who has a TV show called Maralee Dawn and Friends.) She told me about an email exchange she had with a man named Bear. He has an idea for an animation series and told her how he wrote to artist and illustrator artist Kevin Scott Collier about his idea. Kevin Scott Collier wrote back and included a couple of sketches of what Bear’s characters could look like.

(The name Kevin Scott Collier rang a bell with me So I checked and found this was the same KSC who interviewed me for Kid Magazine Writers in 2005. I read on with interest…)

Bear emailed Collier back: “Just looking at these pics again. They are awesome. So how does someone become so generous with their talents?”

Kevin Scott Collier replied (quoted with his permission):

Dear Bear,

Let me tell you something. In November 2003 I wrote a short story for a niece about a boy who accidentally gets an email from an Angel in heaven. (Heaven had gone high tech.) When I was writing the story I felt God's hand on my shoulder. He spoke into my heart that this story would be a book for all kids to read. I prayed to God asking if this were true, where would I find a publisher, whom should I contact... how was this all going to happen. God touched upon me that if I trusted in Him, he would bring me everything and everyone I needed.

As I was mailing the story to my niece, I overhead some men in the next line talking about books to the clerk. I wandered over and asked who they were. It turned out to be a youth fiction publisher from another state, who just happened to be in the area
on business. We chatted, and two days later after receiving a copy of my story, drove back up from Indiana to Michigan, took me to lunch, and signed me to a book contract. "Barthpenn@heaven.org" was published.

Now I was a published author, but I was always an artist. I stumbled across the internet and met a lady who had written a poem. I asked if she could email it to me, as she wanted advice. For fun, I illustrated the entire poem over two nights, and created a pdf "book" for fun to email her back. Turned out she was a minister's wife from Ohio... and she showed it to a friend of hers that was a book publisher... it was contracted, and Topsy Turvy Land went to print.

In the summer of 2005 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Later, on that very day, a publisher I had never heard of contacted me and asked if I would illustrate a book cover for a survivors book on Breast Cancer. I did it for free, and I went on to illustrate a dozen other books for them, too... and mom recovered.

In late 2005, I had an idea for a book based on Noah's Ark I wanted to write. I wanted a co-author,however, someone who could add to my idea for a book. I found a lady named Kristen Halter in a writers group, and we began writing "Natalie's Ark." I discovered this Godly woman was a single mother, and her son never knew a father... didn't have one per se, he had vanished. So, Jarod prayed every night to Jesus for a dad. I fell in love with this woman (who live 350 miles from my home in Ohio) and married her, and adopted her son. Now I am a dad... you can see us all on our homepage... http://collierauthors.blogspot.com

I recently stumbled upon the Old Schoolhouse Magazine's website and saw they had a mascot (frog) for their reading program, and it was clip art... so I redrew the character and sent it to them for free just to help. They liked my stuff so much, they want to hire me as an illustrator for their magazine.

Know what life is all about, Bear? Planting seeds and having faith that God will lead you to the right people.

I'm here.

- Kevin

I thought Kevin’s letter was a great illustration of how God is at work in our lives even when we aren’t aware.

So be encouraged. God has barely begun to do the ministry through your life. Stay the course. There is something big ahead for you. It is God who sets up the big appointments and they are supernatural. Keep planting those seeds and following His lead.”

Joe Who? - Lynda Shultz

When I was eight my heroes were Lassie and The Lone Ranger. That was before I met Joe Bonikowski.

There wasn't much to do in our little town. During the summer, I tagged along with my brothers doing whatever they did. That usually amounted to hanging around the drug store, playing baseball, or swimming in the river. In the winter, we donned skates or snowshoes. I tried to imitate Dave, Danny, Frank and Jimmy, but since I was the youngest, some activities earned me the "wait until you are older" thing.

The local undersized hockey team bore the oversized name of The Temagami Timber Wolves. Dad and I went to just about every practice and all the games. Archrivals, Latchford and Haileybury, killed us on the ice, but nobody beat us at cheering.

I first met Mr. Bonikowski at the rink. He was an old man then. Of course. everyone is old when you are eight. He'd worked in the bush for most of his life, cutting trees and hauling logs. Now he did odd jobs at the arena; changing light bulbs, repairing the wooden benches we warmed, and picking up Juicy Fruit wrappers and empty Coke cans.

When Dad couldn't come with me to watch my brothers play, Mr. B. would often come and sit down beside me. Neither of us said much, but somehow he seemed to know how much I wanted to be on the ice playing, not just watching and cheering.

Then when I turned ten, I got my big break. The Temagami Timber Wolves ran out of players. Like I said, Temagami is a REALLY small town. The season had just begun and the team's right-winger took a check into the boards and broke his wrist, Neither the coach nor the rest of the kids were too happy about letting me try out. However, faced with the possibility of losing the entire season and the long-awaited chance at revenge on the teams from the neighbouring towns, they swallowed their objections. Mom imagined my broken body carried out of the arena on a stretcher. Even Dad was doubtful.

But I made it. All those street hockey games with my brothers were paying off.

I was to start in Saturday's game against The Haileybury Hurricanes. I was thrilled—and suddenly terrified.

On Friday afternoon, I walked over to the rink. Mr. Bonikowski was there. He was throwing sand around the front entrance. The snow had melted and then frozen again, and it was slippery.

"Gonna play tomorrow, eh?"

"Yup."

"Scared?"

Was it that obvious? I had grabbed my star and now didn't know exactly what to do with it.

"A little."

"Don't worry."

"Everyone thinks I'll mess up."

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Gotta have faith."

"In God?"

I went to Sunday School, but God's interest in hockey had never been mentioned. I figured he was more concerned with Saturday night baths—you know, "cleanliness is next to godliness"—than he was in Hockey Night in Canada on TV.

"Sure. Faith in God is good. Faith in you, too."

"Do you have faith in me?"

"Hundred percent."

He sensed my doubts, so he added: "You'll see tomorrow."

The next night I waddled to the rink behind my brothers. I'd put my gear on at home. The boards thumped underneath my skates as I made my way past the dressing room.

Then I saw it.

To the left of the dressing room there had been a broom closet. The buckets, brooms, and cleaning cloths were gone, leaving behind a wooden bench and a peg nailed to the wall. The sign Cleaning Supplies was gone. In its place, carefully carved on a piece of two-by-four, was Helen's Dressing Room.

Joe had proven his faith in me and had planted the seeds of mine. The first girl to play juvenile hockey was here to stay, and I had a real-life, heaven-sent hero.