The Story That Must Be Told: True Tales of Transformation

By Irene Watson

What will you do when life puts you to the ultimate test?

This slim volume contains 21 true stories of courage, love, endurance, and undying hope from people around the USA and UK. Follow each of our authors as they detail what it took to face impossible circumstances and powerfully transform them into forgiveness, understanding, and grace.

Are you...
haunted by a past event? hoping to make a brand new start? unhappy with how your life turned out? searching for the secret to full self-esteem? blocked by unfinished business you can't resolve? wanting to explore or renew your relationship with God?

If you answered "Yes" to any of these questions, then this is the book for you to start (or re-start) your personal journal of transformation.

What one person achieves creates new possibilities for everyone in what it is to be human

• Language: English
• Publisher: Loving Healing Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2007
• ISBN: 9781615999255

Book preview

What is Transformation?

By Victor R. Volkman

Transformation is a catchphrase that everyone seems to be adopting these days. Even the marketing people have picked it up, which means it has become truly pervasive in American culture. Overall, this is probably a good thing in that it opens the horizons of possibilities. However, I see it as more than just the next buzzword for business re-engineering. The essence of transformation is metamorphosis: the radical change of state from the comfortable numbness to a bold unknown.

Transformation can take many forms: a new beginning, stepping outside your culture, rediscovering the bonds of family, caring in the hour of need, giving up destructive attitudes, honoring the past. These are but a few of the themes that are part of learning this new melody of the heart. Transformation is not easily boxed into little compartments because it infuses your whole being through all these aspects and more. Many of the writers who have contributed to this slender volume have also offered a key ingredient. This factor, sometimes stated and sometimes not, is the role of forgiveness.

Before we can honor the past, we must forgive it all of the hurts it has laid on our souls and all of the blame, regrets, confusion, and shame we have empowered the past with having. What comes after this acknowledgment is completely unexpected and leads us into a new domain where we find ourselves so completely different as to be unrecognizable to our former selves. Without spoiling the denouement of the various stories before you devour them, I will give some examples. At least one author recovers the ability to love herself by letting go of a past relationship which created an unhealthy conflict between her body and soul. Another writer forgives himself and finds the courage and resolve to take confront actions taken decades ago and hidden in shame. Another author discovers forgiveness in the sympathy that she gains by meeting a person in remorse who has accidentally wronged another the same way she herself was hurt. I could go on, but my purpose here is to whet the appetite for discovery.

Another surprising theme underlying many of the stories is the rediscovery of a personal relationship to God, a higher power, or Love itself. The influence of a power beyond ourselves can take place in many forms. It might be heavens opening up with visions of angels. But not always. Sometimes it is only a glimmer of hope, seen from a distance. Something outside ourselves beckoning to be given a chance. It may come in the darkest hour of the soul, when we feel the need to give up fighting for a few minutes to step into a stillness or wholeness that we had forgotten was possible. Again, the rediscovery of relationship to spirit results in reconciliation, an ability to move on, recover dignity, and understand the frail bonds of humanity that link us all together.

What does it take to start your transformation? I think a key ingredient is the decision itself: to confront the unknown, take a chance, create who you know yourself to be. The decision itself may be spurred by an insight, a new perspective on your life and its path. However, insights alone will not achieve your dreams. Were it only that easy! It is everything that follows the insight and/or decision that makes the difference: how you act consistently with the new person you have created yourself to be.

One of the best ways to do this is to find someone to hold you accountable to who you’ve promised yourself to be. For some contributors to this book, it was a teacher, counselor, confidant, or trusted family member. Share your truth and the truth will set you free. If this book encourages even one person to rediscover themselves, what’s stopping them, and take action, that will be the sweetest reward we could ever hope for.

Victor R. Volkman

([e-mail])

June 1st, 2007

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What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls the butterfly.

—Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931)

Lessons from the Wisdom Within

By Peggy M. Fisher

Synopsis: A woman’s marital crisis in mid-life spurs a brave new beginning through Eastern practices. She discovers both inner wisdom and the courage to change.

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The year was 1970 and I was approaching my fortieth birthday when I became uprooted. Didn’t they say that life begins at forty? Wasn’t I a survivor: a person who moved from one bump or collision in the road to a more viable path? Hadn’t I conquered my fears and walked with determination as a young student nurse, an Army officer, a teacher and now a counselor?

But after twelve years of marriage and three children my marriage was falling apart and I was slipping into a cave of darkness that tormented me. I spent hours searching in my library of psychology textbooks from Sigmund Freud to Harry Stack Sullivan. I bought new books about the theories of depression, but the words on the page had no meaning. I had earned the title of a clinical specialist in psychiatry and thought, / can find my way out of this. There had to be something out there that would be helpful to me, but I didn’t have a clue as to where I would find it.

My church attendance which had been sporadic, now folded. There were conflicts surrounding the removal of the minister that were troubling to me. Because my spiritual roots were strongly anchored, my daily prayers remained constant. It was my lifeline to the next day.

I struggled to refresh my survival skills. I took belly dancing and line dancing to elevate my spirits. I hid the intensity of my pain behind multiple masks. During the day, I wore the mask of a serene and organized counselor helping my students to make decisions. When I arrived home, I became the loving mother involved in my children’s needs. The weight of the masks was tiring and the living room couch became a resting place between my family chores: cooking dinner, helping them with their homework and finally getting them ready for bed.

I dreaded the nights because I knew my sleep would be interrupted by the haunting questions of Why? I was tired of wondering when, or if, my husband was coming home by morning. The questions gnawed at me. Why did Ross agree and then turn his back on me when the time arrived to keep our appointment for marriage counseling? Why did he ignore my words and rush out the front door without telling me when I would see him again? How did Ross expect me to stay in a relationship that had become a battleground? But the answers were hidden in the darkness of my nightly anxiety attacks of rapid breathing, followed by exhaustion. I watched the clock, waiting for my morning chores to mobilize me.

We had all the ingredients for a happy marriage: good jobs, healthy children and supportive families, activities that we enjoyed together and marvelous sex when he came home. But Ross continued to struggle with his adjustment to civilian life after serving twenty years in the Navy. I knew that he loved to gamble—something that he had done for years—but I thought I could deal with it as long as he contributed his share of the expenses. Was there another woman involved? I felt that I could compete with her; however, there were no conclusive answers for me. Most of the time Ross would sleep for a few hours, shower, change his clothes and head right out the door. He seldom ate any meals at home, and if he did so it was on-the-run. I knew he was spending less time at the college where he worked because sometimes they called when he left his student assistants for prolonged periods.

My love for Ross was entangled with feelings of pain and frustration. The churning knots in my stomach seldom relaxed. It was though I was being slowly strangled and left gasping for breath throughout the day. The face in the mirror was that of a stranger because I had allowed the omnipresent darkness to claim me.

As Ross’ unexplained absences and gambling problems escalated, I became armed for a battle. A battle that I didn’t even care who won. One morning just before dawn, I heard Ross drive up and shut the engine off. Every sound echoed in the quiet of the morning. I waited for him to unlock the front door and come upstairs. I hadn’t seen him since he left for the weekend. Ross slowly made it up the stairs, visited the bathroom, and finally made it into our bedroom.

I was waiting for answers. Ross undressed in the shadows of the morning light, climbed in bed and turned his back on me. When I asked, Where have you been? He said, Can’t you let me get some sleep? I smelled the odor of alcohol on his breath, but I knew he must be sober enough to give me some explanation. Before I knew it, we were engaged in a shoving match. Both of us had rolled off the bed and onto the floor. My daughter, Melanie, who was twelve years old, rushed from her room shouting: Mommy, Daddy, stop it! Stop It! Her intervention luckily kept us from a major encounter. I quickly leapt off the floor and put my arms around her shoulders and said, I’m sorry Melanie, this won’t happen again… I promise you. When I returned to our bedroom, Ross was snoring. As I climbed back into our bed, I knew Ross would have to move out or else I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise to Melanie.

When Ross got up the next morning, I said, We can’t live this way around the children. His reply was, I don’t see why I have to move. Yet, Ross’ unexplained absences continued. I had made up my mind that I would stop the war of words and simply ignore him. Within a few weeks, Ross moved to an apartment. He left abruptly one day while I was away at work and the children were still in school. Ross took our entire bedroom suite and left a cot for me to sleep on in the middle of the room. My clothes from the dresser were neatly folded on the cot. I was stunned! I knew he had been looking for an apartment, but Ross hadn’t told me he had found one. Later, I learned that he borrowed the cot from his sister. However, my anger quickly subsided into relief. I was bristling inside and poised for a fight that I had put on hold for the sake of our children. I could always buy another bedroom suite.

I quickly made an appointment to see the family lawyer. He said, You could have someone follow him. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but in a calm voice said, Why would I pay someone to trail him, if he doesn’t want to be with us? My lawyer smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He knew my position was firm. But I rushed to change the locks on the doors when my lawyer said, Everything in the house is up for grabs. I wasn’t going to allow Ross to take another thing, except for the few personal items he had left.

My other children, two boys, were eight years and four years old at the time. I knew they were aware of our bickering and I thought they would be relieved. Since I am a survivor, I thought I can make it without Ross—not realizing that there were dues for me to pay. I ran out of answers when my children asked, When will Daddy be coming back? Although I knew I had made the right decision, their searching looks made me feel guilty. My unspoken thoughts were, Ross was never home anyway. Maybe he would take more interest in the kids now that we both have some space. Our separate lives evolved into days apart and finally months. At times Ross, stopped by the house and talked to the children, but his participation in their lives remained marginal. I continued planning activities for the children: dance and piano lessons for my daughter and music lessons for my eldest son.

Suicidal thoughts often taunted me when I stood on the platform waiting for the train to take me to work in the morning or return me home in the afternoon. If my stomach churned, I would move away from the boarding area and puff hard on a cigarette to relieve my tension. I couldn’t quite give into the quiet voice in my ear saying, Jump. I was no longer a closet smoker and brushed aside my remorse about this.

At work, I clung to my privacy. I revealed my newly single status but nothing else to Kathy, the school nurse, and she never questioned me. We were kindred spirits and each day we shared part of the commute home as far as the downtown Philadelphia train station. Once there, we traveled our separate ways. One day when there was hardly a glimmer of light in my path and each step I took was an effort she broke the ice.

Kathy said, Peggy, I heard about a yoga class being formed in this area.

I smiled and said, Sounds interesting, maybe I’ll look into it. I hadn’t told Kathy how desperate I was to find something before I succumbed to my omnipresent darkness. Perhaps she knew.

Within a few days, I had decided to go. Yoga was something I had read about while searching for a way out of my self-imposed cage. Dr. Vijay stood at the top of the stairway to greet us as I arrived in his class. Dressed in a long white garment, his smile and dark eyes radiated vitality and warmth. In the early 70s, the few Americans were avidly exploring this medium; however, Dr. Vijay had already developed a following. There were about fifteen people of various ages, ethnicities, and sexual orientations in the group.

As we settled onto our mats, he said, Lie on your back with your hands at your side. Now, slowly raise your left leg, then your right leg. I had been chained to so much baggage that it was difficult for me to follow even the simplest postures he gave us, but I persevered. This seemed like a new beginning. I didn’t realize that these unadorned exercises would be a gateway to my inner soul.

A few months after I met Dr. Vijay, unknown forces led me to a sign in a window in downtown Philadelphia which read: Transcendental Meditation Classes. Before long I enrolled in this course and was given my mantra by a smiling young woman who immediately made me feel at ease. She said, You look much younger than your age. I was grateful for this compliment because I felt ancient—worn out from trying to escape my demons. Somehow I knew meditations would compliment my yoga postures. An immediate sense of calmness surrounded me as I began this practice.

Each day I got up an hour early to do my yoga and meditation before my children awoke. Yoga, meditation and prayers became the synergistic tools for my rebirth. Somehow fate allowed me to find the right teacher and within months I learned that my greatest lessons were not received in a classroom setting, but from my inner wisdom. I committed myself to these lessons because I desperately wanted to leave behind the sleepless nights and the anxiety attacks that sapped my energy.

I arranged to meet privately with Dr. Vijay. After our second meeting he said, You don’t need me anymore. You will fly like an eagle.

I was puzzled by his observation. Couldn’t he see that I was still in pain? Didn’t he realize I was just beginning to navigate in my corridors of darkness?

He said, You can call me if you need to. I remember calling him more than once, but for the most part I was on my own. Fortunately I had found in him a teacher who encouraged me

Reviews for The Story That Must Be Told

[singlemominspiration · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love this book because I feel that there is at least one story that someone can relate to. If I could I would write about each and every story in this book because they all deserve to be talked about and discussed. They are truly drama filled, moving, and inspirational. What I love the most are they are stories about real people that turned their lives around. Each person found inner peace, happiness and contentment in their own way at their own time in life. This book for me was a blessing in disguise and I am glad that I had the chance to read and review it.

[beckvalleybooks · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a collection of really personal, moving and thought provoking true stories, each unique, transforming story describing how that person grew mentally and/or spiritually and moved on from the way they thought and lived. Some really important messages stood out in the stories for me that really made me think about myself and others I have met in my life and were especially found in the stories A Call From Africa by Jari Holland Buck and A Heart Betryaed by Christy Lowry. Some of the stories rely on faith to get through difficult times, others are more spiritual and some are what I would call 'the lightbulb moment' when you finally wake up and realise where you are going wrong.One particular bonus that I love when reading books is that each story is short and you may find yourself finishing the book extremely quickly as you decide to read 'just one more'.A really great 'pick me up' book where life's lessons are made clear in each story and may possibly give you the inspiration you need to change the situation you are in at the moment. An enoyable read that I would recommend you try.