As salaamu alaykum!

I wanted to share an excerpt from MERCY ME, Chapter One: Finney, about my high school years when I felt rather lost and had forgotten much of who I really was, but God had brought me the most unlikely person to uplift me and remind me of what was good and real in the world -- I treasure I secretly held on to. Finney was the purple-mohawked punker who kept my spirit afloat. This scene shows the epitome of his goodness, and, I believe, was God’s way of helping me remember that it existed in the world, no matter what the package looks like that’s carrying it.

So if you feel you -- or your kids, your spouse, people you love -- are messy and imperfect, I hope this poignant and uplifting excerpt will remind you that His Light exists in all of us, no matter how disheveled one may look or feel. 

As Ramadan comes to a close, please consider remembering my campaign in your Zakat and making a donation. 

Ramadan Mubarak!

_______________

MERCY ME

Chapter One: Finney (excerpt)

The following year one Friday morning, game day, during football season, the halls were swelling with teenagers gushing from the classrooms for our 20 minute break before third period. I was on the second floor just arriving at the unofficial “junior section” when the sound of loud drums took over the hum of voices. Everyone’s head turned to see a small group from the school’s marching band in uniform, heading toward the main atrium of the second floor.

    “Awesome, I love these!” I hollered to Violet as a circle formed around the group. The percussion was strong and real; these mini-pep-rallies were an invigorating break from the oppressive doldrums of everyday high school life. Vivy gave me a sideways glance of bewilderment, furrowing her brows, but it didn’t squelch my enthusiasm, even if I had to consciously keep myself from dancing right there.

    A huge crowd gathered, people cheering and clapping, leaning over the balcony from the third floor, the uniformed cheerleaders gathered to the side, doing a little cheerleading dance routine to the beat. I burned with envy looking at them. I had tried out for cheerleader at the end of last year and hadn’t made it. So I watched the band, and all of the sudden Nathan, one of the kids from the special ed group jumped in the circle and started dancing all-out. I watched Nathan dance, at first thinking it was sweet. But then I started to see a lot of people laughing at him. He had Down syndrome, his dancing was, well, over the top. Vivy and I gave each other a look of pity for him; I looked around and again burned inside, this time with anger, to see several guys laughing and yelling mean things at him. It was heartbreaking.

    Then I heard a collective “Woo hoo!” and looked over to see a tall, spiky purple mohawk pushing through the crowd, crowned atop a bedraggled Finnegan Wiley, who hopped into the open area in the circle in front of the band and the cheerleaders. He threw his backpack and skateboard down, and jumped next to Nathan — who was apparently in the throngs of joy — and started dancing with him, over the top, too. The crowd roared and there were chants of “Finney! Finney!” while the drums banged out the biggest part, everybody going wild. Nathan threw up his face and arms in ecstasy while Finney threw out some odd breakdancing moves, dropping to the floor to do a caterpillar, getting totally into it, bringing down the house, looking like he was having a blast. Finney danced his heart out, together with Nathan. I watched in amazement as this guy entertained the entire school and brought out the utter goodness in people, even the jerks cajoling Nathan a few minutes before. The drums stopped and everyone cheered as the bell for the end of break rang.

    “Okay, people, back to class!” Hollered Mr. Kinkle. As students smiled, gave each other high fives and the crowd started to break up, I watched Finney turn and lean over to pick up his stuff, face totally somber. He wasn’t grinning or loving the attention. He looked serious as he pulled his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his skateboard. As he walked away he had a look of sadness on his face, and it seemed that he had felt what I felt. It wasn’t something that he had enjoyed doing; it seemed that he did that only to help the poor kid not be humiliated and jeered at and made fun of. He did it to help Nathan.

    “Later, Guillot,” said Violet.

    “Bye,” I mumbled, watching Finney walk away. What he’d done touched me so deeply, it made me see what sort of a person Finnegan truly really was. And I wished I could be.

Ramadan Mubarak!

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Things have been progressing well with MERCY ME, both in moving closer to completion, and also with some exciting developments!

* A literary agent in New York City has shown interest in my manuscript and asked for me to query her. This is fantastic news in that, for memoirs, literary agents can sign an author and find a publisher even without a totally finished piece.

* In preparing this query, a publishing industry veteran has read numerous excerpts and reported that I "have a wonderful quest story with a vibrant voice well worth telling...capturing moments beautifully...it's beautifully told and visceral." She loved the prologue -- read it three times!  She believes MERCY ME is extremely marketable and will sell, adding, "the story is often really funny in a surprising way that's delightful; I laughed out loud many times." Alhamdulillah!

My campaign was reopened through the end of Ramadan. Please keep me and my memoir about how I found meaning in life through becoming a Muslim in your dua and zakat! Spread the word by sharing this campaign (www.launchgood.com/mercyme) and donate if you feel so moved. 

Wishing you all a blessed Ramadan and Spring!