Canadian Authors Who Are Christian: The Mosaic - Eleanor Shepherd

Canadian Authors Who Are Christian: The Mosaic - Eleanor Shepherd

The Power of Love

At the Bellevue Hospital in New York several years ago, the staff were puzzled because for some strange reason, despite the excellent medical care that the little patients were receiving, they were losing 32 per cent of the children, who were mostly under a year old. The cause of death was usually a minor aliment. The situation dumbfounded the doctors. They knew that their tiny patients were beneficiaries of the latest scientific achievements in medicine, the best possible feeding program that could be designed for them and were in the most sterile surroundings, yet the children were dying.

They someone had an idea. They thought that the missing element in the care of these children was love. So, a call went out for people to come and spend time lovingly caring for the babies. Hundreds of women volunteered, a lot of them had grown children and a need to show love to someone. Often their own grandchildren lived many miles away.

What was the result of this very unscientific idea? The death rate of the babies began to plunge. The difference was so obvious that one of the staff claimed that for the care of these babies the love volunteers were as important as penicillin.

We are made with a need and a desire to love and be loved. Without the opportunity to express and fulfill that need we will not thrive, no matter how optimal our living situation might be.

Giving and receiving love has the power to transform our lives. A Swedish nurse discovered that when she went to work in a convalescent home. There was a woman there who had spoken to no one for three years. All day long, she just sat there in her rocking chair. The nurse decided that she was going to try love. She pulled another rocking chair alongside the woman and rocked along beside her, all the while choosing to feel love this lonely woman. On the third day she did this, the woman opened her eyes and said to the nurse, “You are so kind.” It was the first time she had spoken in the three years she had been in the home. Within two weeks, the woman was well and ready to return to her home. What a powerful tool is love when it is applied to those who are sick, lost or alone.

These are some of the reasons that Jesus left us a faith that He said was to be distinguishable in its uniqueness by total abandonment to love. This is the meaning of the cross. That is what gives us courage to listen to the questions and in our listening, allow His love to touch and transform lives.

Read more about this love in my new book, More Questions than Answers, Sharing Faith by Listening. Here is the link for ordering it. http://wipfandstock.com/store/More_Questions_than_Answers_Sharing_Faith_by_Listening

PS: The earlier book Hot Apple Cider that has my chapter called "Living Outside Our Comfort Zones" is still available from Amazon.

Change Management - Eleanor Shepherd

When do the changes stop? I thought that when we took early retirement and settled into our condominium on the lakeshore, working for a non-profit within ten minutes drive, I could just settle down and enjoy a peaceful existence, without having to worry much any more about changes. Now here I am a year and a half later, having been laid off and rehired by another non-profit, in a completely different set of circumstances. At least I am still living in the same condominium, with the same man, with whom I celebrated forty years of marriage this month.

I was secretly rather thrilled when my friend told me she heard my daughter talking about me on a radio interview that she was doing on the CBC morning show in Toronto. Elizabeth, a twice Juno nominated, jazz musician introduced one of her songs, dedicating it to me in honour of the fact that at my age I was willing to go out and look for another job. Changes that make our children proud of us, I can handle.

Working at home is a new experience for me. There are many advantages. My commuting time has been cut from twenty minutes a day to zero. After I clean up from breakfast and brush my teeth, I can be in my office, before my husband has the car out of the underground garage to drive to work. Proximity to my office is convenient, but sometimes makes it difficult to draw clear lines between home life and work life. Discipline keeps me at the desk during working hours, but at times it is difficult to push back the chair and leave the office to attend to the more mundane household tasks at the end of the day, particularly if I am into a project that I want to complete.

I expect other writers understand the conflict that arises when you work where you live. Being able to do more writing was an unexpected benefit of my job layoff. I had prayed, asking for time to write, if it was important that I finish this book project that has been part of my life now for ten years. The summer was mine to write. My job finished in June and although I was offered my current part time job shortly after, it was not scheduled to start until September. Every day, all summer I was able to immerse myself in the book project, writing all day long. It was a writer’s dream.

As well as providing time for writing and rewriting, this summer of change gave me the opportunity to learn about Employment Insurance and the devastation that one feels when your contribution to a company is no longer required. When I felt that I was useless and redundant, the gentle voice I know so well assured me this was not the case. He had a plan for my summer, to write and once again experience the thrill of grappling with ideas that energize and excite me. To provide the extra push I needed to get me going, He provided an Award of Merit at The Word Guild Awards gala.

For a while last Fall, I was able to settle again into a routine. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursdays I worked from my home office for a non-profit that I am passionate about, because it helps women in the developing world provide for their families. On Mondays and Fridays, I can write, giving voice to other things I am passionate about like sharing our faith through listening. It was a pleasant place and I enjoyed it. However, I knew it would not last. Sure enough, in December, I was asked to work full time for Opportunity International and I did need to work full time to accomplish all that I wanted to do. I discovered the trick was to have my running shoes on and be ready to sprint when the next change came along. Now only do I want to adapt to it, but I want to run out and greet it, knowing that the One who holds my hand never changes, is always there and will accompany me to new places, I have not yet dreamed of.

Canadian Authors Who Are Christian: Before You Self-Publish: a Checklist - Lindquist

Canadian Authors Who Are Christian: Before You Self-Publish: a Checklist - Lindquist

International Women's Day

In honour of International Women's Day, I am posting the tribute that I wrote about my mother, shortly after she passed away last spring. Let me tell you about her.

Throughout her 95 years, there were three loves that came to define the life of our mother. My two brothers and I became aware of them while we were still quite young. The most important love in her life was her love for God. I have often told the story of how I came to understand that as a little girl.

My parents were the corps officers (pastors) of The Salvation Army Edmonton Temple corps (church). Every Sunday night before the evening service (called the salvation meeting) in those days, the faithful gathered for prayer. I think it must have been that there was nobody to look after us, so we accompanied our parents to the prayer meeting. I recall one Sunday evening, hearing my mother pray with great fervency for one of the men who attended the services sometimes, but had not yet made a decision to accept Christ as the Lord of his life. As I opened my eyes, somewhat mystified by the intensity in her voice, I was amazed to see the tears falling as my mother prayed for this individual. I began to understand how important it was to her for people to enter into a relationship with the Lord, whom she obviously loved so much.

My adult children told me a story that they heard from their Grandpa one evening, as the family began to gather around my mother, sensing the end was near. They saw a faraway look in his eyes, and asked, “What are you thinking about, Grandpa?”

He responded with a story that dated back about seventy years. He told of my Mother living in a little town called Hant’s Harbour on Trinity Bay in Newfoundland and how he lived in another town on the same bay called Winterton. They had begun going out together and he planned to travel that Saturday from Winterton to Hant’s Harbour along the coast in a sailing boat. All day long Mom went from window to window, inside the house constantly glancing toward the head of the cove to see if the boat was in sight. Then finally as the sail came into view, she beamed with joy at his arrival. That was so much a picture of their relationship. They loved being together and for sixty-six years they treasured their relationship as husband and wife. There was never any doubt in the minds of us at their children that the one woman above all others that Dad wanted to be with was Mom and the one man around whom her world revolved was Dad. What a wonderful security that provided for us as we grew up in their home.

The third great love of my Mom was her children and grandchildren. Each of them had their own special place in her heart and in her prayers. As I talked with my brothers after Mom’s passing about what I should choose to talk about in my tribute to Mom, my brother, Donald shared with me an experience I understood so well. He told me about spending some time with Mom last year when he was visiting here from France, where he lives. He had an opportunity to ask her if she still spent time praying for his children. When she assured him she did, he felt that it really did not matter what else she could do. Her blindness and physical frailty did not define her. It was her prayers that really counted.

Not knowing about this conversation, about six months ago, I too was visiting my parents and had some time alone with Mom. I was particularly concerned about my children at the time and I asked the same question, “Mom, do you still pray for my kids?” Her assurance that she continued to do so was a great reassurance to me. Their was no better way I knew for her to show her love for me and for my children.

These were the three loves of my mother and she refused to allow the experiences of her life to diminish them. When nearly thirty years ago, she lost her sight, she did not stop loving God. She found new ways of cooperating with Him to help to bring His love to others with an enriched prayer life.

One of the notes that I received this week told me a story I had never heard. The person recounted to me how my mother was leading a women’s conference, just after she had received the news that nothing could be done to improve her sight and it was only going to deteriorate. That morning the women sang,

“Pilot of souls, I trust Thy guiding hand;

Take thou the helm, and at they blest command,

I sail straight on until, the harbour won,

I reach the glory of they sweet well done.

O man of Galilee!”

Holding tightly to His hand she walked, trusting Him when she could not see from that day until Friday, April 24^th, when she opened her eyes and saw His loving face, leaving us with the assurance that our love for one another can be nourished from the same source.

PS: My daughter has written a song about the incident her grandfather shared with her.

The Relationship Between Prayer and Listening to Others

A listener, in an intimate relationship with God, will find it easier to adopt a loving regard toward others. Their listening becomes a channel of God's love as it flows out to others from the Source within. Jesus promised that from us would flow rivers of living water when His Spirit took up residence in us. He is the ultimate source of love, even for those who are not aware of that source.

The person who learns to listen to God becomes an effective listener as this skill is applied in listening to others. It flows from a nourishing prayer life. Our inner life through prayer is nourished by God’s love. With hearts enlarged by His love, born in us is a desire to share this love. It is not that love is required from us, but because the nature of love is to give. When Jesus said that we were to love one another, it was not so much a demand He was imposing but rather a result He knew would emerge as a byproduct of His love permeating our lives.

The attitude of the listener is not that of a master or even a mentor, but rather that found in a friendship engendering mutual encouragement. It looks like the old adage of one beggar helping another beggar find bread.

As listeners we may ask ourselves the question, "Am I really capable of listening to the deepest needs of another person?" The answer will be "No," but the God who by His Spirit lives in us is capable. He can hone our listening skills. This is why it is so essential that we seek to remain attuned to Him. Prayer is for us a gift but it is also a necessary resource in our accompaniment toolkit.

Coming Home

We settled into our retirement home after nearly thirty years of wandering the globe. Condominium living frees us from shoveling snow or weeding gardens. As, in summer, we gaze out our windows at manicured lawn and flower gardens, and the waves dancing on the bay across the street, we are living our dream. In winter, we see the walks and parking lot all shoveled and salted, without any effort on our part.

Coming home to a place where we spent many happy years enables us to nurture friendships we valued as young adults. Over the years we fell into and out of each other’s lives, moving from one place to another, always exchanging greetings at Christmas and getting together whenever our paths crossed in the same city. In spite of geographical separations, our hearts remained attuned to one another. Now we can call and meet for coffee, on a whim or decide at dinnertime to take in a movie together the same evening. What a treat!

Along with the joy of long standing friendships comes profound healing of broken relationships. Occasional visits provided insufficient opportunities to get together with a couple alienated from us, through misunderstanding. We could not invite them over for coffee or a meal to try to begin to build the trust that unfortunate circumstances eroded. Now we are home and free to invite them into our hearts again. We have the time to make amends for whatever split us apart on that day long ago.

“How will I feel leaving my children behind, to return to the place we all called home,” I wondered. Yet where they are in their own journeys, they cannot come home just now. Even that somehow seems right. They need the space to create their own lives and make their own homes, so when they come to ours, they need not assume a role that no longer fits them. When we left and busyness prevented them lingering for lengthy farewells, we knew they had taken wings and were living their own adult independent lives. That was what we raised them to do.

Coming home is a comforting concept in my imagination. We return to the place where dreams began, where hope was palpable and where love was the atmosphere that nourished us.

In the intervening years many early dreams shattered, subsequently replaced by dreams we would never have anticipated. Over time, hope has been buffeted and almost extinguished, yet it bravely continues to face each new dawn. Love has matured from a secure refuge to a giddy feeling finally metamorphosing into a deep commitment that holds steady when we find everything else brought into question.

Coming home is much more that physically relocating Coming home is finding again the place where my heart and my mind are attuned with who I am and where I am. With the Apostle Paul, I can say, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation….” (Philippians 4: 12 NIV) When I know Whose I am, I am home, wherever I am.