Sheila Walsh - Beautiful Things Happen When a Woman Trusts God

Beautiful Things Happen

WHEN A
WOMAN
TRUSTS
GOD

SHEILA WALSH

This book is dedicated in loving memory of Jim Martin
of Ayr, Scotland who showed me an unwavering picture
of what it looks like to trust God every day of your life.

2009 by Sheila Walsh

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotation in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

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All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from THE NEW KING JAMES VERSION. 1982 Thomas Nelson Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Other Scripture quotations are taken from the following sources:

The Message (MSG) by Eugene H. Peterson. 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. All rights reserved. The Holy Bible, New Living Translation (NLT). 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved. THE ENGLISH STANDARD VERSION (ESV). 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. THE GOOD NEWS TRANSLATION (GNT). 1976, 1992 by The American Bible Society. Used by permission. All rights reserved. THE HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION (NIV). 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. THE NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE (NASB), The Lockman Foundation 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995. Used by permission.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Walsh, Sheila, 1956
Beautiful things happen when a woman trusts God / Sheila Walsh.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4002-0243-0
1. Christian womenReligious life. 2. Trust in God. I. Title.
BV4527.W347 2009
248.843dc22

2009047812

Printed in the United States of America
10 11 12 13 14 WCF 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

CONTENTS

ONE Why Are You So Afraid?
The Beauty of Courage

TWO An Open Door
The Beauty of Brokenness

THREE The Hunger to Belong
The Beauty of Transparency

FOUR A Broken Dream Becomes a Beautiful Life
The Beauty of Waiting and Being Present

FIVE Why the Pain?
The Beauty of Crying Out to Jesus

SIX Into the Darkness to Find the Light
The Beauty of Seeing

SEVEN The Life of Christ in Us
The Beauty of a Quiet Trust

EIGHT Trusting God with Your Fear
The Beauty of Taking a Step Forward

NINE Trusting God with Your Dreams
The Beauty of Forgiving

TEN Is It Ever Too Late to Start Again?
The Beauty of a Last Chance

ELEVEN Trusting God When You Have a Lot to Lose
The Beauty of Giving Your All

TWELVE Trusting God with Your Journey
The Beauty of a Pilgrim

I would like to thank the following people who worked side by side with me on this project.

Kathie Johnson, thank you for all the editorial support that made this book possible.

Jennifer Stair, thank you for your careful attention to detail and flow. You have the gift of being able to polish the words while retaining the heart of the message.

Jeanette Thomason, when Jennifer and I were finished you took our work, sat with it for a while and when you returned it, I was tempted to shout touch down! You cleared the path of any superfluous rubble so that all that mattered was all that remained.

Bryan Norman, it is pure joy to work with you! Apart from being an exceptionally gifted and insightful editor you are such a fun friend.

Michael Hyatt and the team at Thomas Nelson, it is a privilege to be a part of your family of creative thinkers and writers.

Mary Graham and Women of Faith, for the past fourteen years we have been on a journey together connecting women to a God who loves them passionately and to one another. I love you all.

F ifteen years ago, life as I knew it came to an end. Everything I had built came crashing to the ground, crushing me beneath the rubble. A few friends tried to pull me from the ruins, but I had no desire to be saved. I wanted to be left alone to die.

Into that darkest of nights came the Son of God. In that moment, he didnt come to me as Savior or Liberator or Kinghe came as the Lamb who stayed beside me through long, dark days and nights. His presence was deeply comforting. He let me bury my face in his wool and weep. He let me lay my head by his and sleep.

One day, he stood up and I stood beside him. He began to make his way out of the ruins, into the daylight. I didnt want to leave and begged him to stay, but he kept walking. I followed. I never wanted to be separated from him.

As we stood in the sunlight, I found the vista before me terrifying. I cant do this, I said.

I know, he answered.

I dont want to do this, I said.

I know, he answered.

What will I do? I asked.

Just follow me, he said.

Where are we going? I asked.

Were going home.

INTRODUCTION
Swinging in the Arms of God

J uly 7, 1966, The Swing. When I was a child, my mom would take my sister Frances and me to the swings in the park. I loved being pushed on the swing by someone I trusted. I felt as if I were flying, airborne, without a care in the world. I would cry out, Higher, Mommy, higher!

I remember one day, though, when it was just my big sister and me at the park. Frances pushed me on my swing for a while and then got tired and sat down on the grass. A boy who was known as the neighborhood bully came up behind me and began to push my swing. I was terrified. He wasnt pushing it any higher than my sister had, but I didnt trust him. I cried and cried until my sister told him to stop.

The matter, you see, came down to a five-letter word: trust. Trust made flying high in the air an exhilarating experience, and when trust was absent, the swing turned into a nightmare. Who was pushing the swing made all the difference in the world. The heart behind the hands pushing the swing changed everything.

September 19, 1992, The Hospital. I sat in my car in the parking lot outside a drugstore in Washington, D.C. In my hand was a prescription for a medication treating clinical depression, and I wasnt sure what I was going to do with it. Every morning in the hospital, I had lined up with the other patients to receive my meds in a little plastic cup. Now I was on my own and it was up to me whether I took the antidepressant or not.

When I was discharged that morning, I had to answer a few standard questions.

Do you have suicidal thoughts?

No.

Do you have an appointment with a doctor in your area when you return to Virginia Beach?

Yes, I do.

Are you familiar with the signs of an oncoming downward spiral?

Yes, I am.

I signed a few papers and a girl at the discharge desk returned my car keys to me. That was it. The simplicity of that gesture seemed out of place with the enormity of what I felt. For the first two weeks of my monthlong stay, I had to sign a paper to get my hair dryer out of a locked cupboard; now I was being trusted with a car. The hospital was done with me, and new patients were being admitted. I felt a little put out by the whole affair. I thought of yelling, Im still nuts, you know. I see dead dogs walking! but reconsidered.