Fully Relying on God: Stories from My Life

By Shirley Veltman

No matter who we are man woman or child we are born with a purpose and for a purpose. We all start out as a child, boy or girl. We do not come with an instruction booklet on how to live the perfect life. We are given a birth certificate and that can and may complicate ones life right from the start, as it did mine. No matter how bizarre, no matter our age, our color or ethnic background, despite our situations and circumstances, people everywhere suffer. We all to often find ourselves living in a crazy mixed up world all be it (a sinful world), no matter where we are geographically. Hard times, trouble times, sad times, financial difficulties, family problems, sickness, accidents, and death it comes to all of us. They can and do come at times least expected maybe even from people who were supposed to love and protect us. How do we survive it all? Can we overcome? Absolutely!

We can not fix all our problems, we cant change who we are, we cant fix the world, but we can be fixed. This book is full of life lessons learned. Written to inspire and encourage every reader of this generation and the next. To give every reader hope! You can live a purposeful and productive life. A life of success, love, peace and joy. Never, never give up!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512754896

Shirley Veltman

Shirley Veltman is founder of Pleasant View Ministries. She is a teacher, Christian counselor, public speaker and a writer. Shirley is currently on her fourth career journey. Check out her web-site www.fullyrelyingongod.com Shirley lives in Lillington, North Carolina with her husband Bruce and their dog Jake. Ellen Gillette is a writer and speaker in Fort Pierce, Florida. Her book, Baaad Sheep - When God’s People let You Down was originally printed by Care Point in a workbook form. It has been reformatted with additional material and is available digitally at smashwords.com search by title or author. A children’s allegory, She - Bear in the Beautiful Garden will be published in 2016 by Cranberry Quill Publishers in Fayetteville, N.C. Ellen also has two blogs and invites potential followers to check them out. www.ellengillette.blogspot.cm - semi-regularly thoughts www.ellenpoemsblogspoy.com

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Copyright © 2016 Shirley Veltman.

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Scripture quotations marked NIV are from the New International Version, NIV® Copyright © 1973,1978,1984,2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked NASV are from the New American Standard Bible, Copyright © 1960,1962,1963,1968,1971,1972,1973,1975,1977,1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Scripture quotations marked NRSV are taken from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked TLB are taken from The Living Bible copyright © 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-5490-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-5491-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-5489-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016914070

WestBow Press rev. date: 09/13/2016

Contents

Preface

Introduction

Felvus to Reed

Reed to Schafer

Schafer to Schroeder

Trusting God More

Life with God goes from Faith to Faith … and includes a Veltman!

From Schroeder to Veltman

Small changes can make a radical difference.

It all starts with the first step of faith.

I

dedicate this book:

To all the people who prayed for me and

To those who still pray for me.

Most especially I dedicate this book

To my beautiful and only Daughter

Michelle Ann Schafer-Dillon.

Also I dedicate this book in fond memory of

Ralph and Jean Miller who took me into their home,

And loved me unconditionally.

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Provided by: Niagara Falls Public Library

Niagara, a place where God has touched the earth, and in such a way to have put clearly His fingerprint upon it; that some may say it, and even see—it is the centerpiece of the world.

—Frank Parlato Jr.

Preface

O n October 1, 1981, I was in a very serious car accident, involving only myself. It made newspaper headlines locally and in the surrounding areas of Niagara County, New York. Woman, 37, Survives Tragic Overnight Car Accident. The story tells of the victim, found nine hours after the accident, less than a half mile from her Stone Road home in Lockport. A passing school bus driver saw her. Saw me.

I was trapped inside a demolished, upside-down car in a drainage ditch for nine hours. First responders worked feverishly to get me out of the car, after which I was rushed by ambulance to Newfane Inter-Community Hospital. I was in critical condition. It was all there, in black and white, for anyone to read.

Thus, part of my life story became public knowledge. Because of the seriousness of my injuries, numerous doctors, lawyers, and hospitals eventually became part of that story. I was a small character in each of their own life stories, as they were in mine.

The doctors suspected that I would die, but I didn’t. I had a long, hard, complicated recovery, but it was a small town. Everyone knew everyone else, and so they knew me as the woman who had survived a near-death crash. You might say that I gave people something to talk about.

As I began to finally open up, many years later, sharing more details about my life, people were amazed at all I’d gone through, at all I’d survived. You should write a book! was a frequent comment.

For a long time, I’d quickly reply, Never! I’m a talker, not a writer! Unless God himself makes it clear—very, very clear—that a book should be written, it will never happen. Inwardly, of course, I was praying that he never would.

People continued to encourage me to write a book, but in June 1997, something happened of significance. Nearly seventeen years had passed since the accident. I had experienced many life-altering, dramatic changes. The most influential was my own spiritual rebirth. It began just before the accident, but ever since, I had no doubt that God was pursuing me, wanting my relationship with him to grow and deepen. I cried out to him, and he answered me. Every time.

On the dark, cold, rainy night of my accident, just minutes before I would crash my car, I had cried out to the Lord. Circumstances were beyond my control due to poor personal choices; my life was a mess. I was so completely screwed up that I wanted to die. One mile from home, I stopped the car, jumped out, and walked to the front, falling to my knees, the raindrops shining in the headlights, and prayed, God, if you are real, take this life and forever change me!

I had tried, all my life, to change my circumstances, thinking that then I would be okay, that I would be happy. This was not only the first time I really cried out to God, but it was the first time I realized it was not others or situations but I who needed to change. And I finally saw I couldn’t do it on my own. You know I’ve tried! Please, God. Please! Do something! Take this life and do with it what you will.

It felt like I knelt in the rain for an eternity, but eventually, calmness swept over me. Everything was still suddenly. No rain. No sound. It was as though a huge storm, both within and without, had been stopped in its tracks. I stopped crying and got back into the car. I turned the corner, knowing I had less than a mile before I’d be safely home.

Instead, God answered my prayer.

No, he didn’t cause the accident, and yes, he easily might have prevented it. God is God! And he works his own plans in his own ways. In the years to come, I would understand the words of Jeremiah 29:11–12: For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen.

Let me just say here that in our society, many people believe a great lie: that God helps those who help themselves. The truth is that God helps those who call on him, knowing that they can do nothing in their own power. Psalm 56:9 says, The very day I call for help, the tide of battle turns. Psalm 34:4 says, For I cried to him and he answered me!

As you read, you’ll learn more of the personal conversion process as it happened for me and all that resulted from it. I’ve shared this little snippet at the beginning to show how this book went from events happening to being recorded here.

Back up a little from June 1996 to 1997, when I was spending the winter in Massachusetts. I met a wonderful new friend at church named Laurie and invited her to come to dinner. We sat afterward by a magnificent fire, enjoying our dessert and coffee. Laurie said, Tell me a little about yourself and your family.

My husband chuckled. Laurie, a little about Shirley always leads to a lot. What exactly do you want to know? She won’t mind telling you, whatever it is.

Laurie thought for a bit. When did you become a Christian?

I tried to keep my story brief, but I’m a talker, as I said earlier. One thing led to another, and when she could finally get a word in edgewise (after an hour or so!), she said, Shirley, you should write a book!

When I told Laurie the same old thing, that God would have to make that crystal clear, it never occurred to me that God had been speaking clearly for years through others.

I’ll pray about that, Laurie said.

Winter passed, and it was three days before my birthday in June. I came down with a fever, combined with a dreadful rash all over my body. Just the thing to get my attention! I was in bed resting for three days, but on Sunday, June 8, I woke up to do my devotions before church and found I had no remnant of either fever or rash. I opened up the copy of My Daily Bread and turned to the day’s reading: One tongue is enough. One tongue has vastly greater potential than most will ever put to use. A tongue devoted to God can accomplish much.

Interesting. I read Psalm 45:1 there. My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

Right on the page, I wrote a note. I realize now that this skin irritation is for the purpose of keeping me in a quiet place, focused only on the Lord, that I might see a revelation that was specifically from him to me.

Reading further, I was encouraged to offer the love of Christ within my heart as well as the willing tongue in my mouth up to the Lord. One tongue could do much. Through all the changes of life, in troubles and in joy, I could still speak forth praises to God.

Lord, I have so little to offer, but I know that you’re with me, I whispered in prayer, meditating on the many, many times he had proven himself strong on my behalf. Rapidly, I flipped the pages of my Bible to various and specific verses to which I had been led when I needed them the most.

I was familiar with 1 Peter 3:15, where Peter wrote that we are to always be ready to give an account for the hope inside, to share in meekness and humility. When someone would ask, as Laurie did, I loved telling what Jesus had done for me. God has given me many opportunities over the years, testing my obedience to that verse. I thought that perhaps he was telling me that more doors would open, and they did.

In 2009, my husband and I were visiting my daughter’s home on a Sunday. We had lunch after church and stayed on, enjoying the grandchildren. As evening approached, members of their LIFE group (Living in Fellowship Everyday) began filtering in. One young woman shared with me some of her challenges in life, and I shared what God had done for me. The familiar response was You should write a book.

I’m a talker, not a writer. I’m waiting on God for an author. I hadn’t noticed that others had come in as we’d chatted, and we didn’t plan to stay for the meeting. As I said my good-byes, a second woman stopped me.

Please wait. I have something in my car I’d like to give you. She returned with a book, a workbook entitled Baaad Sheep—When God’s People Let You Down. I had just met her, but when I turned the book over, it was her photo on the cover. I would be happy to write your story. Call me sometime.

Only God could have orchestrated it so perfectly.

There have been stops and starts along the way, for life never stops while we try to focus on our plans. Nothing can stop God’s will, however. God brought me the author of his choosing, and we both have prayed for all who read these words. May you discover how very much God loves you and how dearly he holds you in his thoughts and in his heart.

You are about to hear part of my life story. Some of it is sad. Some of it is painful. But just as a mother’s brain is geared to forget the pain following childbirth, God transforms the pain in our lives, if we allow him to. My story is a testimony to this transforming love and power.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

Thank you to all the people who said, You should write a book. It took awhile for the message to get through, but here it is! I can’t thank my family enough for all their love and support, as well as my Christian family in many churches.

Introduction

I started out as a child.

I think it was Bill Cosby who said those words at the beginning of a long ago stand-up comedy routine. Like so much stand-up comedy, it’s true. It’s too bad the comedian didn’t pay closer attention to his own words, but that is his life and his story. He has his own history to endure, but I want to tell you about mine, about the search for myself.

Self-help books are sold by the millions and are based on the assumption that whatever the problem, a solution exists. Someone knows what we’re looking for, what we need in order to become absolutely perfect. Perfect in the way we look. Perfect in the way we talk. Perfect in our relationships and careers. Perfect in success, wealth, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, so help me God, amen.

The questions are valid, of course. We have one shot at life, and all the questions regarding the incredible gift of life are important ones. Who am I? Why am I here? Where did I come from and where am I going (and that’s not a matter of geography)? When my story is told, will it matter to anyone else? What will my legacy look like? Even more important than the questions, however, is The Answer.

I was looking for myself, and I found The Answer instead. And in finding The Answer, I found Shirley. I discovered who I really was and am and will be, forever.

This is my life, here in your hands. A slice of it at least.

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And I started as a child. A baby. Every person on the planet shares that key element. Whether black or white, red, yellow, or brown … whether born in a five-star celebrities-only private hospital or beside a rice paddy … whether awaited with loving anticipation or dreaded as an incredible burden, … every one of us starts out as a child. A baby. Boy or girl. Two biological parents. One mom. One dad. Genetics is genetics is genetics. Our DNA is what it is.

There’s a lot of confusion out there about this born business, though.

When my youngest son Andrew was sixteen, I had been attending a Baptist church for about a year. I didn’t make him go with me—when you’ve got a teenager, you learn to choose your battles—but he knew I wanted him to go. It was my hope and desire that he receive ministry and fellowship, hope and faith, teaching and encouragement at church alongside me. He was friends with several of the young people who went to the church’s youth group, and I was sure he’d enjoy it once he took that first step inside.

One Sunday as I got ready for church, Andrew surprised me by saying he wanted to go along. After sitting through the Sunday school class for teenagers, he told me he’d had a great time. My mind jumped to the next weekend and the next. To my way of thinking, he would continue, right?

Wrong. The next Sunday, I walked out the door alone, confused but not wanting to make a federal case out of it. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Hope sprang eternal (not that I hoped he was sick, you understand). The Sunday after that, though, it was the same thing. I left the house; he stayed home.

At some point, curiosity got the better of my non-wave-making intentions, and I asked him why. He reminded me that as soon as we’d come home from church, he’d changed clothes and headed to my sister-in-law’s. Her grandson was sixteen as well, and he loved going to Gram’s house. At seventy-plus, she was a saint. Not only had she raised eight children of her own, but she had also taken care of my own babies while I worked several years ago. In fact, she was the only person to whom I had entrusted them when they were little.

Gram was also a devout Catholic, sharp as the proverbial tack. Because he’d gone to church with me, Andrew’s arrival had been later in the day than usual, and Gram noticed immediately. Where were you this morning? she asked. When he told her, she became extremely agitated. You must never go there again! You were born a Catholic! Catholics are forbidden to go to Baptist churches! You don’t want God to send you to Hades, do you?

Poor Andrew. No wonder he’d stayed away. Because the answer to that question was pretty obvious—"no, Gram, I do not want to go to Hades," or whatever name you give eternal darkness and condemnation. And when you think about it, who does?

Grateful I had investigated, I said gently, "Andrew, I was there when you were born. I was going through a lot at the time, but I think I’d remember if the doctor told me I’d given birth to a healthy Catholic. He didn’t. He said I had a beautiful, healthy baby boy! Two weeks later, you were baptized in a Catholic church because that’s where we were going at the time. It’s all I knew, and it wasn’t even your choice. You weren’t born a Catholic."

He got it. A month later, we went on a church mission trip together—a wonderful experience for both of us.

Gram had meant well, but she was wrong. No one is born Catholic, just born into Catholic families. No one is born Baptist either. (Note: other religions, such as Judaism and Hinduism, do not have the born again clause Jesus gave in John 3. For those folks, you really are Jewish, if your parents are Jewish, etc. For the sake of my argument, however, they’re still born children first!)

Years ago, I was watching television and heard someone ask news correspondent Helen Thomas why she was a liberal. They say with age comes wisdom, but Helen Thomas had covered the White House since Kennedy, and her answer wasn’t wise at all. "I was born a liberal."

Um, not really, Helen. You were born a girl. At some point you chose to be a liberal.

The truth, Jesus said, will set you free (see John 8:32). (The late author Jamie Buckingham added, But first it will make you miserable!) There is absolute truth in the universe, but from the time we are born, we rely on what we learn from others, whether what we learn is truth or not. It is the only truth we know, unless we are taught differently.

Most of us learn from our parents, from teachers and extended family, from our peers and friends, from bosses and coworkers. We constantly absorb information from magazines, newspapers, books, television, movies, and the Internet. Information is thrust upon us that we sift through without even being aware we are sifting, choosing what we believe, what we enjoy, what repulses us, and what makes us uncomfortable perhaps while still containing an obvious ring of truth.

Along the way, we make choices. Some of our choices are good; some are not. Some choices we regret for the rest of our lives. As night follows day, consequences of our choices naturally result. And there are always reasons for our choices—reasons, not excuses.

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So we begin as babies, the children of mothers and fathers who should take care of us. Unfortunately, for too many babies, that’s not the way it works out. Not all children are wanted or cared for in the way God intended. Bad things do happen to good people, much of the time. Bad things also happen to completely innocent people—children. Babies. The suffering of these innocents throughout the world is overwhelming.

I’m a great-grandmother now, a woman of age, as they say. I have seen and heard stories that would break your heart, stories that have broken mine. About stolen childhoods (like mine, as you will read) and worse. At least I survived. At least I was able to bear children and enjoy a relatively normal life as an adult. The same cannot be said for far too many little ones.

Child abuse was taking place long before it was popular to discuss it in celebrity biographies or on another Oprah Winfrey special. Solomon wrote that there is nothing new under the sun (Ecclesiastes 1:9). Sin has been around since the Garden of Eden, and the numbers have only gone up with the rising population.

What do we do about it, though, in our generation?

Every child should grow up with love, protection, discipline, and the teaching of godly principles, such as morality, respect, and obedience. To the degree that these qualities are missing, families self-destruct. So many of society’s devastating problems can be traced back to unhappy homes: alcohol and drug abuse, spousal abuse, child abuse, theft, gambling, promiscuity, senior abuse, gangs, murder, suicide. A child doesn’t get to choose his or her parents or ask that certain teachings be covered or insure that memories will be pleasant. Parents have the responsibility for this. Too many parents today, I’m sorry to say, are a lot like mine.

I’m one of the sad stories, but that’s not why I want to tell it. There are plenty of stories sadder than mine. It’s not a contest! The reasons I want to share my story of survival in a crazy, mixed-up world is because … against all odds … I came out okay! It wasn’t immediate—there were lots of detours and setbacks and stumbling blocks—but looking back from where I am now? Considering all the things I’ve been through? Reviewing the past through new eyes? It’s downright amazing.

For a very long time, I didn’t understand that God was at work and had, in fact, always been at work in my life. I was lost in so many ways, not even knowing who I was. I mean, literally not knowing. All my life, I’ve wanted to find myself. Even today, there is no record of my original birth certificate. For all practical purposes, I’ve been told I don’t exist. But I know different.

I know who I am, what I am, where I came from, why I was born. I know how to enjoy life on the way to wherever else I’m headed before God calls me home to glory. I came to know the truth fairly far down the road, but that only proves that it is never too late.

How much better, though, if I had read something like this and turned my life around even sooner.

Each of us has within us a God-given will, the ability to make choices that help shape who we are, what we think, and what we do. Right choices are often difficult because we haven’t been given all the facts. We usually do what we’ve been taught (often by parents who never learned themselves), or we do what is expected of us (often by people who failed to meet the expectations pushed onto them). Sometimes we refuse to face the truth because it is simply too painful.

Albert Einstein is credited (probably incorrectly) with this wonderful quote: Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. If we want things to change in our lives, we must be willing to do things differently! I’ve found this to be a fundamental truth. As long as we’re stuck in the past, in the rut of the way things have always been, we will not grow. We cannot grow.

People have hurt us in the past, and we hate them. We’re afraid that new people in our lives might hurt us. We’re afraid to try new things, go new places. We constantly try to please others, believing everything they tell us and taking advice from other hurting people, assuming that just because their intentions are good, their advice must be too.

Some of us were raised by faulty means and faulty parents. They may have been extremely cruel. But even the best family situations are flawed because no one is perfect. At some point, however, we have to take responsibility for our own actions.

Life’s journey includes crossroads, hills, and valleys. Whether you’re Shirley Temple or Shirley Veltman, there will be good times, sad times, troubled times, financial challenges, persecutions, defeat, and sickness. And in the literal end, death will come to all of us—another thing that unites us.

You may be reading and thinking, I’ve never experienced those difficulties. Praise God. But get ready … you very likely will. The Bible says we are called to be overcomers (Revelation 2:7, among others). How can we become overcomers if we have nothing to overcome?

I hope you aren’t put in a position to overcome some of the tremendous challenges I’ve faced in my life, but please consider the possibility of challenge in the future. Or realize that you may learn something to share with someone else entirely.

My hope and prayer is that as you read about my life and about the power of God at work, you’ll realize that that same power can work in yours, regardless of the things that have happened to you in your past, regardless of how bleak your future may seem at this moment.

Looking for Shirley, I found what I call the four Ps:

• Position in Christ (who I am in him)

• Purpose in Christ (what I was created for)

• Power in Christ (how to overcome)

• Possessions in Christ (the awesome gifts of love, provision, abundant life, etc.)

Does that sound like the ultimate self-help advice? Join me now on the journey to find myself. My prayer is that you’ll find the same Answer I did.

You started out as a child. I started out as a child. And with God’s help, we can return to the childlike assurance of our Father’s love. God bless you.

Felvus to Reed

I don’t know if my mother was thinking of Shirley Temple, the famous child star, when I was born, but I looked like I’d been made to order, right down to the beautiful blond curls. That Shirley had been born in 1928, which means she was sixteen when I came along, only a year older than my mother.

The comparison breaks down quickly: Shirley Temple had two parents at home who loved her, started dancing at age three, and made her first film soon after. None of that would be true for this Shirley.

We did both age well, though, if I do say so myself. Temple passed away in 2014, but her legacy remains—not only in the many wonderful films she made but also as a public servant and former US diplomat.

I’ve never been all that diplomatic, I’m afraid!

I was, however, born a healthy baby girl on June 8, 1944, in Niagara Falls, New York—one of those places that sounds like such an exotic tourist destination to most people that it may seem strange that normal folks are born there and live regular lives.

Writer Frank Parlato Jr. said that Niagara is "a place where God has touched the earth, and in such a way to have put clearly his fingerprint upon it; that some