Reason To Live

By Ron Donovan

A young man heads to Toronto to fulfil a dream for his life career. His hopes were dashed due to an accident playing sports and his dream was over. His mother prays for him as he lies in a coma, not even sure he will pull out of it. When he awoke he discovered his dream was gone. But he picked things up and turned his life around. He never lost his dream for his lost career but he now manifested it in other ways. Business, real estate and family grew and expanded. He showed how to be a great man in his community and with his family and friends. Placed in the city of Toronto in the 1940's to 1980's he led a fruitful life and help shape the face of Toronto like it could have been.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ron Donovan
• Release date: Dec 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781894532600

Ron Donovan

Ronald A. Donovan is an accomplished writer of more than a dozen novels and numerous briefs, instructional books and studies written over the last 50+ years. Since 1999 he has written several stories, plays and novels that have been published in print format. Now in 2012 his books are being released in digital format in the form of eBooks (www.rondonovan.ca).Ron comes from Nova Scotia and for many years lived and worked and raised a family in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Ontario. Now in his retirement he and his wife, Dorothy, live in Victoria British Columbia. He continues to write stories that inspire and cause people to think and persevere in their lives.Ronald A. Donovan was born into the latter part of the depression in the 30's. In order for his parents, Bill and Grace Donovan to survive through those hungry times there was a great deal of need. The need was challenged by a time of belt tightening and hardship. As parents, Bill and Grace had to cut a good many luxuries in their lives and they learned to live close, always close to the poverty line. In order to live with these needs and in such poverty there was always a close affinity with want and poverty. With such hardship they learned to make life work while living with food at minimum portions.Ron remembers this history and creates stories that build upon these humble beginnings.Ron has a strong background of involvement in the church. Starting out with the Salvation Army in Halifax, to becoming a Salvation Army officer, to his married life in business, raising three children, he has never left the church behind. He founded an independent church in Chatham, Ontario in the 70's. To this day he is ready to minister when he is given the chance.

Book preview

REASON TO LIVE

By Ronald A. Donovan

Copyright © 2000 by Ronald A. Donovan

Ronald A. Donovan at Smashwords

This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue and plot are the products of the author's imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, institutions, or events is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XiV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXX

Chapter XXXI

Chapter XXXII

Chapter XXXIII

Chapter XXXIV

Chapter XXXV

Final Chapter

Appreciation

Biography

Credits

Introduction

Grace sat quietly by the bedside at the General Hospital. The only sound she could hear was the gurgling of the pump and the shallow breathing of the pale young man who lay fighting silently for his life.

In the hallway outside the busy hospital activity amplified the sound.

Oh God why? Why did this happen? He is so precious to me. I want him to be happy. I gave him to you when he was born. He is yours.

Tears coursed down Grace’s cheeks as she sat with her eyes tightly shut waging battle with God in prayer.

She had sat this way for weeks hoping every day, every moment that her boy would waken and speak to her. So far nothing had happened. She sighed heavily. ‘Maybe the doctors are right, maybe he is not going to make it, but God I have asked and I believe you. He is in your hands and I am waiting for that miracle. Please God, hear my prayer.’ As Grace sat quietly conversing with God, the nurses moved in and out, attending to the needs of the silent patient. Often the nurses would stop and chat or just smile kindly at this faithful mother as she sat so patiently and with such determination.

There were deep lines embedded on Grace’s face from worry and from lack of proper rest. These past six weeks had not been easy. Even though she was looking tired, wrinkled and worn, Grace still maintained a stylish dignity. Her dress was a rich red with straight flowing lines. The black sash that encircled her waist was held in place by a gold broach. She wore a triple strand pearl choker that looked brilliant against the black collar of her dress. Her hair was cut in a soft pageboy style that accented the natural waves with which she had been blessed; one could only assume her hair had been tinted to cover any greying.

Grace had been torn the past six weeks. On the one hand there was the need of her husband, Bill, to have her home. Wilson, who lay here so close to death, needed her there. Wilson showed no signs of improvement regardless of the medical intervention he was receiving. All indications were that he would not likely come out of the coma.

I’m not accepting that. He has to come out of it. God does answer prayer!

Grace sat thinking and praying, I know the doctor said there is little or no hope. Do I have to give up? Bill needs me at home. I’m afraid he is not taking his pills, or eating properly. He needs me. So does Wilson. Oh God, please just show me what to do.

The doctors had repeatedly told Grace that it was best for her to go home and look after her responsibilities there. She was assured over and over that Wilson could not know that she was there. Grace knew too, that she could return if there was any cause. Halifax was, after all, not that far from Toronto. She could be there in hours should the need arise. Most people who talked to Grace were already convinced that there would only be a sad end to this situation. It was not possible for this young man to make it back from the deep coma into which he had fallen.

"Oh Father, I can’t leave him alone here. I left the hospital when Dwayne was so close to death, but I didn’t know. I had no warning that he was going to die. Please Lord; don’t ask me to leave Wilson. I want to be with him.

I need to be here. God please, please hear my prayer. Grace’s mother-heart was crying out in desperation.

She could not imagine leaving Wilson alone at the hospital. She had nurtured and cared for her three sons from their birth. When Dwayne, her second son, was only seven he died of diphtheria. Dwayne had been even closer to her than either of her other two sons. It seemed like the end of the road the day he died. However, Grace and Bill had struggled through, remaining optimistic and determined to make a good life for the sake of the other two sons. Now here was Wilson, who was so committed to the calling he had felt in his life, ready to dedicate his life to God and the good of mankind, only to be struck down like this.

It is not fair. Not realizing she had done so, Grace spoke out loud, then looked around to make sure she was alone. There was no one there, but the machine pumping, the bare austere room, the narrow hospital bed and her son, lying silent and pale. It was unbearable. Why, why, why? Grace dropped her head and covered her face as the tears flowed unchecked.

People said that Grace was possessive of her boys, and it was true that after Dwayne's death she had been a fanatic. She guarded them and worried about every move that they made. She would never be guilty of leaving them neglected or unprotected. She smiled as she remembered the day the boys had gone looking for a lake in which to swim. They were late returning, only by an hour, but it was enough to get her in a state of worry. She heard on the radio that it was going to rain and perhaps there would be thunder and lightning. She worked herself into a state of anxiety imagining her boys might be struck either by a tree or by lightning. By the time the boys returned with excitement about the several small lakes they had discovered Grace was in a state where Bill was frantically trying to calm her. She realized then that her worry had been premature and exaggerated. That was the way she had been throughout their lives, concerned and worried whenever there was a danger, real or imagined.

A few years ago she felt torn as her eldest son, Bradley, left home at the age of seventeen to attend a seminary. She felt hurt and deeply concerned her for him to be so far away from home. Somehow though both she and her son had survived the three long years at the end of which Bradley graduated and got married in the same week.

Then it was time for her youngest son to go. She had delayed his departure for a year longer than he wished before he finally got his way and was off to college. That sense of loss paled in comparison to the incredible grief she felt sitting helpless at Wilson’s side.

Chapter I

Toronto seemed so far away and preparing to go was so final. It was not as if Wilson was going only for a year, he was going into a vocation that would consume his whole life. From the time he left he would only return home for vacations. The call to Salvation Army Officership was a demanding one. When a candidate was accepted to attend the college it was a move that would involve long-term commitment. It was a spiritual, life-consuming calling. As Wilson moved among his friends and supporters they were encouraging and were impressed with his life. He wore his uniform well and his finely chiselled features gave him a handsome profile. His carefully combed and trimmed hair gave some hint to the curls that wanted to break through and given any freedom they leaped out into tight curls.

He had made himself useful to the local Corps as he taught the young people through the Company Meeting, the Army’s name for Sunday School and he played in the band. Since the age of seventeen he had served as Corps Secretary, the youngest person ever to fill that position, sitting on the finance committee, and on the Corps Advisory Board. The church knew they would miss him, but the desire of every Salvation Army congregation was to send its best into full-time Officership. That was exactly what they were doing as they helped Wilson prepare for college.

The preparation had taken place and Wilson finally reached college, a fulfilment of his dream to that point. Wilson settled into college following his orientation training.

He had, on his part, gone through lots of adjustment and, if he had ever entertained a change of mind about the venture, he did not give any indication to those around him. The training was very intense, requiring complete dedication from each person who was in the training session. The cadets, as a part of their training, went out and conducted practical ministries, such as door to door visitations, the delivery of the official paper of the Salvation Army known as the War Cry, and finally inviting people to church.

Through all of this, the main goal was sharing with people about a personal relationship with God. The practical work was demanding and sometimes daunting, but Wilson was enjoying it all.

As she sat there gazing at her son and willing him to recover, Grace remembered the Christmas break when Wilson had been able to spend a week with them. It was an opportunity to be home for a few days, but that time flew by so quickly.

Wilson was soon headed back on the train for college. He was back into the busy grind of training. Studies were demanding as they covered Bible study, theological subjects, homiletics, Church History, Salvation Army regulations, doctrine, as well as practical subjects like bookkeeping, administration, and pastoral visitation. It was a lot of material to absorb in one year. Their days began at six-thirty a.m. with the rising bell and went on until ten- thirty at night. They were busy six and a half days a week, with free time Monday from noon until seven p.m. Once a month they were off until ten p.m. on Monday evening. However, even during their free time they had to account for their activities to the college leadership. It was a challenging schedule and certainly invasive on their private lives, but each of the cadets had a goal and a desire to be effective and useful in the ministry of the Salvation Army, and in the preaching of the Gospel.

Wilson wrote home faithfully describing his activities and experiences so that Grace and Bill knew about much of the things that Wilson faced.

When she received the call and rushed to Toronto, Grace had taken the time to pack some of the letters that she had received and they were back at her room, each day she would bring one or two with her and read them over as she sat by her boy.

September 30, 1955

Dear Mom and Dad,

Today was a tough one. The college decided we need some exercise so they took us marching. My feet are killing me. I have blisters on my heels and toes and they really hurt. I'm not sure what marching has to do with being an Officer, but I guess it’s part of it all.

We have started a busy schedule. Our wake-up bell is at six-thirty am. At first I used to wake up before the bell but now I don't move until the bell rings. We have twenty-five minutes to get ready for roll call at five to seven. We have to be on time or we get demerit points. At seven we head back upstairs to make our beds and finish shaving and stuff. Then at seven-thirty it’s breakfast. The food is very good. We even have to wear uniforms to breakfast and roll call. After breakfast we are free till eight forty-five when we have a half hour of devotions for prayer and Bible study. I find it hard to be quiet for that time.

At nine-thirty we start classes. The first class is all of the students together in the lecture hall where a special speaker comes in to lecture us on different subjects. I have a habit of putting my chin in my hand and kind of dozing, but the sergeant forbids us to sit this way. I guess he knows that he wanted to fall asleep when he was a cadet last year. They are quite strict.

The girls? I haven't seen any that attract me yet but I'm still looking. They all look so plain in their uniforms with their hair in ugly buns. Maybe I’ll get used to that too.

We have a short break at lunch and then go on to classes in the afternoon. We finish at five and then go to dinner. Following dinner there is a bit of free time for study. Some study time is quiet and we have to stay in our cubicles and study in silence. Some evenings we attend another lecture. At nine the evening runs down and we can goof around the cubicles and get into mischief. At ten o’clock we have cocoa time with a few cookies and stuff for snack. The other day we had bread pudding for dinner. The cook found out I like bread pudding and brought me a big bowl of it for cocoa time. I tried to share it, but the others didn’t like it, so I had as much as I could eat and then left the rest. I think the cook likes me.

At ten-thirty its lights out and we try to quiet down. Because the cubicles are open at the ceilings we can talk, and we do until the Sergeant insists on quiet time. We need to settle down as the bell rings early. I guess its time to go. I have a class in a few minutes.

Love

Wilson

Grace had told Wilson that his letters were so informative and interesting that she was going to save them and make them into a book. This of course was a boost to Wilson’s ego and an encouragement to continue to keep his parents involved in everything he did.

October 17, 1955

Dear Mom and Dad,

It's a few minutes before the lecture. We are on study time but you know how much I don't like study so will write to you for a bit.

Glad to hear that Bradley is going to get a church in Nova Scotia. It will be nice that he is pastoring so close to home. You will be able to go and hear him preach quite a bit. I wonder where I will be stationed next year when I get out of college. Who knows?

We are going to have our first set of tests about a month from now. I find the work a bit boring so hope I can answer the tests well. A lot of it is just memory stuff. With me I either know it or I don’t. It doesn’t seem to help to go over and over the same thing.

We don’t do as much marching now but we do march when we go out to brigades. We march to the subway, go on the subway down to Queen Street exit and get off and take a tramcar over to Parliament Street and march the couple of blocks to the Parliament Street Corps. That is my brigade Corps until Christmas. It’s in a really poor part of the city. The people are weird but they are fun to work with. We go out on Wednesday after lunch. We carry our food for the evening meal and leave that in the Corps? Kitchen; then go out for the afternoon in pairs for visitations. That is hard because it is mostly cold house calls where people are not expecting us. A lot of our work is in low-cost housing, where the people are usually extremely poor. I sat in a sofa chair the other day where a child had wet so my uniform needs dry cleaning. The sergeant warned me (afterwards) that I should always sit on a hard chair because of stuff like that. It's strange, we go into one apartment and it's like a pigpen and then we go in another and it’s got beautiful furniture and is so clean and nice. I guess it’s just the way people are.

We go back to the Corps at around four and usually two of us are appointed to get dinner. We have this big suitcase, which has everything in it. Stuff like wieners or canned meat and canned soup and bread and butter. We set it up and warm it up and then everyone sits around a long table and we have our dinner together. Usually the Corps Officer joins us for the meal. It is fun. Then two others are appointed to clean up.

The person who brings the ten-minute Bible messages or leads singing or whatever gets excused from duties so he or she can prepare. I, of course, hate leading singing but like to give the ten-minute Bible sermons. We have to prepare our talk ahead in outline form and submit it to the side Officer who marks and corrects it. He made the comment the other day that my outline was too brief, like he said it was dry bones. I wrote back to him and said that Ezekiel’s bare bones lived and he wrote back and said he hoped that the bare bones I prepared would live too. I get on well with him. He is from Nova Scotia; his brother is the bandmaster back at the Citadel in Halifax.

We had a wedding the other day. The Officer said there was a couple coming in after dinner. They were a strange couple. The Captain asked two of our guys to be witnesses. We had a lot of fun teasing the one guy that he was the bridesmaid. Another guy played the piano and the couple came in all-nervous and were married. We had a hard time to keep quiet as we were in a giddy mood.

On Saturday afternoon instead of visitations we go door to door and sell the War Cry. It’s a different way to visit people. I don't like doing it but it’s better than the visitation.

In the evening on Saturday we have another service where we take part again. We also go to the Corps on Sunday and stay the day, carrying both of our meals with us. We have morning service after the early open-air meeting, and then we have Sunday School in the afternoon and then open air and evening service. It’s a full day but we get a chance to have a snooze on the seats in the church between Sunday School and the evening meeting. Oh, and we usually play in the Corps band, at least those of us who play instruments.

Well, it’s time for the lecture. Hope I can stay awake.

Bye,

Wilson

Grace lay down the letter she had brought with her to the hospital. She was glad that she had this detailed account of Wilson's life. She had been receiving at least one letter a week and these had kept them close to his day-to-day activities. No matter what happened to Wilson she would have these letters to treasure.

She stopped herself, What do I mean, no matter what happens? I know what will happen, he will get better. God is going to answer my prayer.

Bill and Grace were proud of their son’s calling and they knew he was happy in his work and training. Adding to the usual busy schedule were things such as a ten-ay campaign in Montreal, and some special practical weekends. Soon plans were being made for graduation, or commissioning, as it was called in this quasi-military religious organization. It was a big event in the lives of the cadets as they graduated from this intensive course and then were commissioned as Probationary Officers and placed in field appointments. Some of them would go as assistant Corps Officers to various Corps, as Salvation Army congregations were called. Others would go to work at various social work centres for which the Army was responsible. Several would be asked to remain behind as Sergeants to help in the training of the next session of cadets. A few would go out and be in charge of a Corps, acting in the capacity of pastors to the congregation. It was exciting, as they would not know where they were going until it was announced at their graduation, when they received their commission.

March 3, 1956

Dear Mom and Dad,

We are all pretty excited. It’s campaign time. The college divides into three groups to go out for a ten-day campaign. One group is going to Windsor, Ontario, a second group is going to North Bay, and a third group (the one I am in) is going to Montreal. Darlene is going to Windsor so I won’t get to see her for ten days. I actually have sat down and written her ten letters, one for every day of the campaign. One of the cadets in her group is going to give her one a day. I got her schedule and so I was able to know what she is doing. In my letters I talked about where she would be and what she would be doing so she could know I was a part of her activities.

It sounds like a busy time. We are billeted in people’s houses in twos. We are kept busy with street ministry, dramatic presentations, old Army nights, and all that stuff. It really sounds busy but fun. I will try to write you while I am there to let you know about the activities.

We have had a few social nights. Usually on Monday we have half a day off and once a month we have both the afternoon and evening off. I have sneaked around a couple of times to see Darlene on those days off but the college is not happy with us doing that so we have to be careful. The way we feel is that when we are commissioned we might be stationed thousands of miles apart so this is the time to get to know each other. The social evenings don't help because we still can't be seen talking to each other. I guess they have to be careful but it sure is bad, as we have met and like each other and want to get to know one another better.

Oh well, the time will come when we can be together if this is really the girl for me.

Have to run now as we have what they call drug store time. It’s about an hour and a half that we have on Thursdays so we can go to the bank, do dry cleaning or go out for little things we need. I take advantage of that to go for a Toronto Telegram (the daily paper). I’ve convinced the Captain, who is the side Officer, to let me out other days just long enough to pick up a newspaper. I am following a story about the low cost housing like the ones we visit on Wednesdays. It’s an interesting series that questions if putting people in nice apartments will make them nice people. The general opinion is you can take a pig out of a pigpen but you can't change him from being a pig. I’m not sure that its fair to call poor people pigs though. I think people can change. I guess if I had apartments to rent I would not rent to people like that as they would soon mess up the apartments. I guess that’s why you don't like rentals Dad. You have always said, you would build the buildings and sell them right away. I guess that's a good idea. I still think that people can be helped to live better and cleaner lives. I guess that is why I am in this life that I am in.

Enough for now. Hope Bradley is doing well in his church. You haven't said much about it. Is he happy with it? I wrote him and Elsie a letter the other day. He never seems to write but I guess he is busy.

Bye and love,

Wilson.

It was not easy on any of the cadets to move from working and earning a living to living with no income. While most of the expenses were met by the organization, the cadets did need small amounts of money for personal needs. Many of the cadets had not been able to save enough, but Wilson had been careful with his income while working in Halifax prior to college. He had a comfortable bank account and was able to provide for the small needs of his life. Most times, when his parents wrote, they would send him a few dollars for spending money. This also helped him to have some freedom.

April 16, 1956

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thanks for the birthday card, and the money. I can always use the stuff here.

It’s getting closer to commissioning time. I will soon be sending out your invitation. I hope you can plan on coming up for the big day. I can book you at the hotel that the Army uses for a lot of events. It's the Ford Hotel. It's not fancy and it's not expensive. The nice thing is that it is close to the downtown and the events that are taking place. I think Darlene's Mom is coming in from Winnipeg but apparently her father can't make it. You will get a chance to meet Darlene and her Mom at least.

We had a good time recently at a social evening. I dressed up in my gray suit and bow tie. I think Darlene liked it. She looked really nice.

We have now made our third Corps change and are out in a whole different area of Toronto. It is not so poor as the last two. We are doing more work among kids