Once Upon a Time: Discovering Our Forever After Story Read online

  That internal voice of years of criticism and doubt can be so much louder than God’s still, small voice. That’s why we need to immerse ourselves in the Scriptures. We need to rewire our hearts, our souls, and our minds so that God’s truth is our compass. All of us struggle with silencing the inner critic, but it’s a battle we need to win in order to move past the words once upon a time.

  Eleven

  AN OLD MAN SAT BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD . . .

  Therefore I am sending you prophets and sages and teachers.

  —MATTHEW 23:34A

  Every good story has its mentors, its wise women or wise men.

  When I think of the wise women in my life, my aunt Betty Stierwalt comes to mind. As I write this, Aunt Betty, my father’s sister, will turn 102 years old next month. You might picture a frail, bedridden existence. Not Aunt Betty. Now it’s true she uses a walker, but it doesn’t stop her one bit. That walker, which she named Walter, takes her all over Aberdeen, South Dakota. She’s logged over seven thousand hours through many different volunteer programs, doing everything from peeling apples to visiting with lonely seniors. She regularly helps out with bingo. Her zest for life is contagious.

  When Aunt Betty was in her late nineties, my cousin and I took a trip to Aberdeen to visit her. She mentioned she’d have a tea for us. She didn’t say that she planned a tea for thirty-one of her friends to meet us. That’s the kind of stamina she has. She keeps up with her favorite baseball team, the Minnesota Twins, and occasionally follows football, especially the Chicago Bears, since a distant relative, Brian Urlacher, plays for the team.

  Before I went in for knee replacement surgery two years ago, Aunt Betty wrote me a letter. Actually, her “sore left leg” wrote my “damaged right knee” a letter filled with encouragement and advice.

  Aunt Betty is an example for those of us in the next generation, not just because she is so giving and energetic, but also because she understands what is important. Whenever anyone asks her the secret to a long life, she answers, “It’s been by the grace of God. That’s no secret.”1 She insists that she’s going to live until she dies. That, my friends, is profound advice.

  Mentors have always played an important role in my stories as well as in my life. In The Shop on Blossom Street, a young Alix Townsend signs up for a knitting class at A Good Yarn, the knitting shop run by Lydia Hoffman. Alix lives with a roommate in a rundown apartment, since she has no family to speak of—her mother’s in prison for check forgery and her father is, well, who knows where. Her lost soul of a roommate had slipped a small stash of marijuana in Alix’s purse to avoid violating parole, and Alix had been caught with it. Rather than try to explain and get her roommate into even deeper trouble, Alix shouldered the blame and had been assigned community service. With some serious misgivings, she decides to knit a baby blanket to be given away as part of that community service and begins to attend the class.

  The group that gathers in the shop for this knitting class couldn’t be more diverse. The shop owner, Lydia, opened the shop as she was recovering from cancer—she knew she needed a healing place, and knitting was her passion. Jacqueline Donovan is a socialite, married to the architect who spearheaded the renovation and gentrification of Blossom Street. And Carol Girard is knitting a blanket as she and her husband continue frustrating infertility treatments. An unlikely group for sure, but as the story develops, the women become friends and Alix finds the wise women—the mentors—she has longed for in her life.

  IDENTIFYING OUR MENTORS

  I’m guessing that in the story of your life you’ve had a number of mentors. Some may have been family—mothers, aunts, grandmothers. Others may have been teachers, professors, or people from your church. Some of you may have found mentors among your colleagues or your bosses.

  One of the most interesting questions you can ask is, who mentored you? Oprah Winfrey talks about her fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Duncan, who showed her it was okay to be smart. Mrs. Duncan encouraged her love of reading and set her on a path to success. Oprah wrote, “A mentor is someone who allows you to see the hope inside yourself. A mentor is someone who allows you to know that no matter how dark the night, in the morning joy will come. A mentor is someone who allows you to see the higher part of yourself when sometimes it becomes hidden to your own view.”2

  When we are telling our own stories, an important step is to identify our mentors. I could name so many, like the people I know personally—my parents, my family members, my first librarian, my pastors, and my Bible study leaders, as well as those who’ve mentored me in publishing. But I can also name those who mentored me through their books, like Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, Zig Ziglar, John Maxwell, and others who’ve written the hundreds of business or motivational books I’ve read over the years.

  Other mentors have been the novelists I’ve read and admired through the years. These talented writers have helped me hone my style just by reading their writing. I’ve learned valuable lessons from their skills.

  It’s an important exercise to remember all those who lead the way in our lives. Wouldn’t it be fun to create a book of mentors? Forget the high school yearbook, how about a yearbook of the mentor-like characters that have been part of our lives, complete with photos and quotes?

  MENTORING OTHERS

  Having mentors is important, but so is being a mentor. We want to be that wise old man or wise old woman, no matter what age we are. It’s a two-way street. In his book The Mentor Leader: Secrets to Building People and Teams That Win Consistently, coach Tony Dungy says, “Remember that mentor leadership is all about serving. Jesus said, ‘For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many’ ” (Mark 10:45).3

  Whether intentionally or unintentionally, we are teaching and modeling for others. We will be written into many a story. It shouldn’t surprise us that family members, especially children and grandchildren, see us as mentors. “Things my mama taught me” is a strong theme in people’s life stories.

  I think we would be surprised (and maybe humbled) to discover all the people who might consider us part of their life stories.

  THE BEST EXAMPLE

  Jesus set a perfect example for mentorship when He chose His twelve disciples. He regularly spoke to thousands of people, but He knew that He needed to train a handful of men to follow in His footsteps. This was more than a figure of speech. He selected twelve men who literally followed him, footstep by footstep, as he taught and healed, ate and prayed, slept and traveled.

  He mentored them systematically and, in the Scriptures, explained the reason behind each step. Some of the specifics of His mentoring were:

  • He taught. The disciples not only caught His teaching as He taught great crowds on the hillsides and in the temple, but also learned from Him individually and as a group over meals and in quiet moments. “A student is not above his teacher, but everyone who is fully trained will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40).

  • He modeled. So much of mentoring takes place when the disciples passively observe the mentor. Jesus’s disciple, Peter, wrote, “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him” (2 Pet. 1:3).

  • He asked questions. We call this the Socratic method of teaching—asking questions rather than just imparting knowledge. It allows the student to develop his own answers, to seek the information, to form his own opinion. This is how Jesus taught. “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?” (Matt. 16:15).

  • He believed. By all accounts this was a ragtag bunch of men, for the most part. One was a doctor, another a much-despised tax collector, and several were fishermen, but Jesus believed in them. He saw more in them than they saw in themselves. If we were to choose twelve people to change the world, we’d probably pore over résumés and agonize over background checks and past experience. Jesus looked at these men and saw their hearts. He saw potential, not the past or the present. “Follow Me and I will mak
e you fishers of men” (Matt. 4:19).

  • He developed. Jesus patiently helped his disciples develop character. As we read the Gospels we can trace the growth of these men—the ups and downs—as they built the traits they needed to do the job set before them. “We can participate in His divine nature through faith, goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness, and love” (2 Pet. 1:4–7).

  • He empowered. In corporate mentorship programs, this is often the most difficult aspect of mentoring—allowing the mentee to fly on his own. For many mentors, this is threatening. What if the mentee flies higher than his teacher? Jesus knew he was preparing his disciples to follow in his footsteps and not only empowered them with knowledge but sent them the ultimate empowerment, the Holy Spirit. He inspired them and equipped them to go out and change the world. “As the Father has sent me, so send I you” (John 20:21).

  • He loved. Love is the key to a good mentor. Jesus loved these disciples. “Love one another as I have loved you. By this will all men know that you are my disciples” (John 13:34–35).

  Time slips by so quickly; we need to take every opportunity to capture the lives of the characters that have been the wise old women and wise old men in our own stories.

  Storytelling Prompt

  Who have been the mentors—the wise old women and wise old men—in your life? What have you learned from them? How have they changed you?

  Alternative: Name one of your mentors and explain how his or her influence changed the direction of your life.

  Capturing Wisdom

  Alex Haley, author of Roots, is one of the writers whose autograph is featured in my collection. He once said, “Every time an old person dies it’s as though a library has burned.” I’ve thought of that so often since the passing of my mother and father. How I wish I could go back and ask more questions. I find myself wishing I had written more down, remembered more.

  You may still have some of your elders and some of the mentors in your life. While there is still time, be intentional about recording their stories. Don’t rely on your memory. My friend had an aunt in her nineties who remembered the tiniest details about her life from the time she wore diapers to the present. She observed the world around her with a keen eye. When she began recalling something that happened in their family or in their town, my friend would pull out paper and pencil and jot things down. Now that her aunt is gone, my friend says she’s so glad to have those notes, since her own memory doesn’t hold a candle to her aunt’s.

  Another friend, Dietrich Nelson, told me the story of his grandmother. She crossed the plains in a covered wagon as an infant, held in her mother’s arms. Yet before she died in the 1960s, she flew in a jet plane. Just think of the stories she had to tell.

  During the Great Depression, early in 1930s, the government initiated the Federal Writers’ Project, sending interviewers all across the South to record the stories of former slaves. They used primitive recording devices, but those slave testimonies were preserved.

  A century-old church wanted to capture some of the memories of days long gone. They knew that many of their oldest members would be too self-conscious to sit in a chair and speak directly to a video camera, so they planned a series of dessert get-togethers where the old friends sat around a table, coffee cups in hand, and shared stories on a single subject at a time. One night might cover transportation, leading to discussions of the horse-drawn school bus and the driver who would always bring homemade cookies on Fridays for an after-school snack. The discussions would meander down fascinating rabbit trails, but those holding the cameras did a wonderful job of being unobtrusive and still capturing the wisdom and living history firsthand.

  Twelve

  THE UNSEEN WORLD GATHERED . . .

  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

  —2 CORINTHIANS 4:18

  On Thanksgiving, my family usually takes time to go around the dining room table and recount the blessing for which we are most grateful. One Thanksgiving a few years ago, however, we did something a little different. I asked each member of my family to tell about the time when they felt God’s presence most distinctly. We went around the table, and the stories were wonderful—rich and revealing. Then it was my dad’s turn. Dad never liked to talk about his World War II experiences. In fact, I didn’t learn that my father had been a POW in Germany until my own son was in the military. Dad never spoke of his experiences until he was in his late seventies. So when he started talking about feeling God’s presence, we were all surprised at the story he told.

  He landed on the beach at Normandy six days after the first landing on D-day. He said he remembered it like it was yesterday. As the troop carrier jockeyed into position for the landing, the sound of artillery shelling was almost as loud as the beating of his heart. The smell of smoke and death hung over the beach, but there was no time to contemplate what was coming. Wave after wave, the troops stepped into the water to make their way toward the beach. Dad carried his gear in a pack strapped to his back. As he told us the story that day, he said it was a fifty-pound pack. I’ve since read that the packs were actually nearly a hundred pounds of dry weight. Of course, they weren’t dry for long. Water weighs more than eight pounds per gallon. It’s estimated that as soon as those packs got wet, they weighed upward of three hundred pounds. The water was six or seven feet deep, but most of the men somehow managed to keep their heads above water as they made for the beach. Dad, however, sank like a rock to the bottom. The water was murky from all the activity, but he said he would never forget the chilling sight of the hundreds of drowned men, weighted down by their heavy gear. Short men, he added. My dad topped out at barely five foot five. With the weight of his pack, there was no way he could fight his way to the surface. He was drowning, pushed this way and that by the press of soldiers fighting their way toward the beach. He knew he would soon be taking his place among the casualties buried in that watery mass grave. The last thing he remembered was surrendering his spirit to God.

  Dad woke up amid the noise and confusion on the beach. He had no idea how he’d gotten there. It could be that he had been dragged up out of the water by a strong soldier and left on the beach to fend for himself, but I don’t think he believed that. That Thanksgiving Day, he lowered his voice to something barely above a whisper and said it could very well have been the hand of an angel. As with most unseen things, we will never know for sure. Yet my father remembered that day as a profound turning point in his life—the day he knew God watched over him and chose life for him.

  FACT OR FANTASY?

  The unseen world plays an important part in our stories. Too often, we feel the need to stick to the facts, but facts are only a part of our story. There is the temporal world, for sure. That is the world we see and hear and taste and smell and feel. It is soil sifting through our fingers and children hugging our necks. But the entire time we are walking through the terra firma of our lives, unseen things are swirling around us.

  A story I told in my book God’s Guest List comes to mind. In the last years of his life, my dad hated having to use a walker, especially in his own home. But he never lost his independent spirit, even though he lost his ability to walk steadily. One night Dad got up out of his bed in the middle of the night to use the restroom. He took off without his walker. He got to the hallway and sagged against the wall because he wasn’t strong enough to get himself back to the bedroom.

  He was stuck there, leaning against the wall, when out of nowhere a man in overalls showed up. My dad described him in great detail, saying he was dressed like a farmer. Because Dad was in a desperate situation, he didn’t bother to question the farmer. He knew he had to get back to bed before he collapsed, and so my ever-practical father said, “Hey buddy, I could sure use some help here.”

  The man didn’t say anything, but he gently helped my dad back to bed, stood over him for a moment, and then, as mysteriou
sly as he had appeared, he vanished.

  My dad was a great storyteller, but he never confused fact and fiction, even to the day he died. He was simply grateful that the man helped him to bed.

  This incident reminds me of the verse in Acts 27:23 (KJV), “For there stood by me this night the angel of God, whose I am, and whom I serve.”

  CONFLICTED REACTIONS

  Have you ever noticed that when we talk about the unseen things, we often get two distinctly different reactions? Some people relish angel stories and stories of the Lord’s direct intervention in our lives. They can’t seem to get enough of them. The other group consists of those materialists—the I-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it fraternity—who fold arms over chests and smirk at the emotionalism of the first group. And if you add any talk about the unseen evil things, well . . .

  Here’s the truth:

  • Angels do exist and do intervene in our lives. You need only read the Bible to see that. They are mentioned some 108 times in the Old Testament and 165 times in the New Testament.

  • Angels are not some form of human beings. They existed long before God created us. This means that when we die, we don’t become angels. Many people say things at funerals like, “There’s a new angel in heaven today,” but that is just a way of acknowledging that their loved one is with Jesus.