Mentors

Our lives interact with many people. By watching these people, we gain an insight into the behavior we would most like to exhibit. We choose mentors. These mentors may have a positive or negative effect on our dealings with others depending on the way we choose to use what we learn from them. There are "active" mentors, "passive" mentors, and those who model life for us without ever knowing us.

An active mentor is someone who models behavior and choice we would like to emulate. The mentor may approach us or we may approach them. Between the two of us is an agreement to meet regularly, have an open relationship, and the mentor guides the "mentee" without directly making choices for him or her. The conversation about life choices is to lead the mentee to hear their own thoughts spoken and to begin to see where thinking and decisions are based on a solid foundation of goals and objectives. This relationship can be for a short term or long term, and it may be intentional and intense to begin with then slowly become less so over a period of time. The meetings and discussions may start as weekly, then slowly change to monthly, then regular intervals as agreed upon by the two parties.

A passive mentor can be any of those whose lives become an example to us. Relatives, friends, authority figures in schools and jobs, pastors, co-workers, neighbors model behavior for us as we do for them. We may occasionally approach someone with a decision question, but they do not necessarily become someone we regularly go to for advice. In passive mentoring, the mentoring can actually go both ways. At times in life the roles of mentor and mentee may switch.

There are mentors for us who never know they impact our attitude toward behaviors. These are people we never meet but speak to us through writing, movies, reporting, preaching. We buy their works because they impact us with ideas and ideals we want for ourselves. Again this may be for our benefit, but can also bring us to harm. Today our lives are bombarded with people we tend to place on pedestals because we see a one dimensional side to their character and want what they have. Reality TV has skewed the presentation of behavioral attitudes to become "true" because this or that person is in our living room or den weekly. Hero worship without ever noticing the clay feet of said hero.

When I invited Jesus to become a daily part of my life there were no fireworks, no bells, no whistles, no amazing sensations of overwhelming joy. I simply climbed into a tub of warm water (a friend told me I must be vulnerable, so of course I took them literally) sat back and naked as the day I was born, told God I was sorry for sins I had committed (I wasn't sure what they were), asked Him to forgive me (would He want to?) and that I hoped Jesus would show me the way I was to live going forward. Nothing. No answer. I was totally unaware that for the first time ever I was feeling peace. No anxieties, no anger, no sadness.  Peace. Unbound joy for someone who's nerves were always bundled like the wires at the back of a computer would have put me over the precipice I always walked the edge of.

The first mentor I looked to was a woman in the church we were then attending who was so spiritually mature, she spoke another language. I tried to learn from her, but she spoke something Dave and I have come to call "Christianese". While I did learn from her she sometimes made Dave feel uneasy and a bit afraid of her methods of presentation. I sometimes have been guilty of the same error. She bombarded us with solutions to things we had not yet encountered in our new-formed spirituality. We could not keep up. She meant well, her heart was in its proper setting. With love for God and us she showered us with attention and methods. We were not ready. Dave was just beginning to recover from his tour in Viet Nam, faced with raising a young family in a world he didn't trust, and angry with God for the things he had encountered over the last few years. He began to close himself away from her, from church, from all the things I was just beginning to look for.

My second mentor, though she was totally unaware of it, was Catherine Marshall, widow of Peter Marshall who served as Chaplain of the Senate for the United States in the 1930's and 40's. He might be referred to as a revivalist. Born in Scotland, God brought him to America where he met Catherine. After his death she wrote a book, A Man Called Peter then another book Christy which obtained popularity several times and eventually became a television series in the late 1900's. Her first book was made into a movie. There were other books and I read most of them.

Catherine was a very down to earth woman who could share her ups and downs as a Christian in a no nonsense way that was easy to understand. I regretted I had not been able to hear Peter Marshall preach. I had seen the movie as a child with my family. Richard Todd played Peter Marshall. I own a copy on VHS and watch it from time to time. I have read the book so many times it has had to be replaced twice. I've also read the compilation of Peter Marshall's sermons.

Eventually, Catherine Marshall remarried (oh, the name escapes me) the publisher of Guideposts Magazine. She published frequent articles through Guideposts. Always, she seemed to write to address the very struggles I was having. Working so hard to be perfect was one of my issues. Allowing myself to become so tired I had flash temper episodes (still a struggle sometimes), was another. She guided me through phases of learning to allow God to work in my life without getting in His way so often.

One day, I saw there was a new article in my Guideposts and I hurried to turn to it. To my dismay, I learned it was to be the last article published by her as she had died. I was broken hearted. I felt betrayed (as though God took her just to make life harder for me!). I reread old books and articles and I held to her teaching like a poor swimmer clutches an inner tube. I was putting her teaching ahead of God's importance.

Jack and Gail became intentional mentors in Dave's and my lives sometime in the 1980's. They had raised five children to adulthood and were beginning to experience the joys of grandparenting. They so warmly brought us into close friendship it was always good to be with them. They both had a strong  sense of humor, delighted in the ridiculous and were giving in so many ways. Once a year they opened their up-north cabin to anyone from church who wished to participate Church Up North for a weekend. We would arrive in droves, herds, flocks, coveys bringing tents, campers, food, and anticipation for what the weekend would bring. (I'm sure there's another blog in there).

I still was trying hard to be a model mother who couldn't quite keep within the mold and often screeched like a banshee at her kids. I was embarrassed that I would be irritated with them, allow the irritation to escalate into full anger, and then bellow a tirade that lasted for what must have seemed like days to them. One time, Gail told me Jack arrived home from work -- apparently taking a bus as transportation. He entered their door and said, "Gail, you have to find another way to discipline the kids. I could hear you all the way down the block!" To say I was surprised is mild. I had never heard her raise her voice. So, I learned to relax and realize children no matter how loved and wanted will drive you to insanity in an instant! Because of that conversation, I began to learn better ways to communicate to our kids. I wish I could say God turned a knob or a screw and improved me over night (and my kids wish so as well). I had to work at it. As a result, I am a better Grammy than I was a Mommy.

Another time they relieved the pressures of being perfect, Jack and Gail actually raised their voices to each other and had "words" over something. I can remember treasuring the fact that they were human. On the way home in the car, Dave mentioned that he was relieved to know they could disagree. There were times when Dave and I felt we agreed on so little it was a wonder we loved each other. Jack and Gail were so instrumental in bringing us to a point where we were willing to do things for God to give back to Him just a part of all He has given us.

I have another mentor. Her name is Kathy. The day we first met was at a class for newcomers at a church. We each dismissed the other for fun reasons. I thought she was too blunt and sarcastic and she thought I was too fluffy and frilly. It was a match that could only have been devised in Heaven. We became fast friends and served as coordinators for a ministry to women at church. I don't mean we held an official office at that church, I mean we served in a specific role for a particular type of service to women. We designed and led two retreats for women. Get this! In spite of the fact she and I talked non stop when we were together, the retreats we designed were "silent" retreats.

During Kathy's mentorship to me (she being 9 years my junior) it became noticeable that sometimes she was doing the mentoring and at other times I was mentoring her. When one of us was going through a difficult time, the other stepped up to the plate to pray, advise, and share any insights we received on the other's behalf. And so it goes on today between Maine and Minnesota.

Another surprising mentor is my daughter. I was thirty years of age before I accepted God as real and His Son Jesus Christ as my Savior. If that is Christianese, I apologize but that's the way it is. The third part of the Trinity is The Holy Spirit. Helen was about five when she came to believe in God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. She grew in faith and trust and by her teens was helping me to get more out of my Bible studies than I could on my own. I felt so inadequate at times trying to help Helen and Marc understand Spiritual Truth that it was amazing to me when Helen began to help me. I was never embarrassed by that. I was grateful.

Dave in spite of going through the struggle of being angry at God after his tour in Viet Nam, was my mentor in helping me come to a decision to believe God is Who He says He is in the Bible. He shared deep insights with me sometimes which left me wishing I had been able to see that. I am grateful he was there to point them out to me. I know here, Dave is waiting for me to tell you he is answered prayer in my life. He's grinning from ear to ear and just waiting. Well, it is true. God answered a very specific prayer and the answer was Dave. But I'm saving that for another time. I just want Dave to know that while he is an answer to my prayer, that makes me God's gift to him. I am a gift unasked for, undeserved, and graciously given because God knew Dave needs me! We still help each other to see the message in certain passages of scripture as we read the Bible.

What I'm getting at, is that from time to time I draw a timeline of my life to look back as what God has done. I put in a few date markers on the line and some things going on in those time periods. Above the line, I put those names of people who have mentored me in my walk with God. Below the line I put the names of people I have been a mentor to. It is surprising how many times the same names cross the timeline to mentor or be mentored. It is good to know whom God put in our lives to help us over the rough spots. If at all possible it is good to thank those people, to let them know we appreciated their presence in our lives, and to let them know we thank God for blessing us with them. My mother had a saying I always thought was sarcastic: "Don't thank me; thank God for putting me here to do that for you!" As I look at it now, I think she was serious. I don't think she believed in coincidence. However, be careful to note God is the One who sent us the mentor, honor the mentor's service but give all the praise to God.

When I learned to respect Peter Marshall rather than venerate him above others and to think somehow his messages belonged only to me, God surprised me. In the movie A Man Called Peter Reverend Marshall is called to preach a sermon at Annapolis Naval Academy. He writes his sermon and travels to Annapolis. Once there, he becomes uncomfortable with the sermon he has written and decides to preach on another topic. So in front of a graduating class of young midshipmen, he preaches on death. He likens it to being a child who falls asleep in one room, is tenderly carried by a parent to his own room, and waking where he belongs in the morning. The United States of America was going to war. Soon after his sermon, the young men ship out to fight. A great percentage of that class died during their term of service. When I get to that point in the movie I weep. The chapel is so beautiful, then men so young, and the sermon to poignant.

Dave and Helen and I visited Annapolis on one of our trips to the eastern seaboard. What a beautiful campus. We visited the gym and several buildings. Then we entered the chapel where the crypt of John Paul Jones is guarded. Through the doors and into the blue and white chapel with the sun slanting through the windows I came face to face with the pulpit where Peter Marshall preached to those young men so long ago. I cried. I'm crying now. I was so touched that God allowed me to see it. I believe He was rewarding me for learning from the teacher and giving glory to the Master.