Author learns to 'Let Go' and let God restore family

By Sue Nowicki
snowicki@modbee.com

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Sheila Walsh has been a successful Christian recording artist, author and speaker for decades. She's been the co-host of "The 700 Club," and these days, as a member of Women of Faith, she speaks to half a million women every year.

But two years ago, her world was smashed when she discovered her husband had nearly incinerated their finances and kept it a secret from her. Instead of hanging on to what was left, Walsh said, she had to learn to let go so that God could work.

The story is part of her newest book, "Let Go: Live Free of the Burdens All Women Know." The lessons are particularly relevant now, as others face similar financial disasters and fears.

Sheila Walsh

Walsh, 52, is a native of Scotland and is married to Barry, 45. They have a 12-year-old son, Christian. She sat down with The Bee earlier this year at the Christian Book Expo in Dallas. She talked candidly about childhood scars, her fears and faith, her fight with depression and the beauty of a family restored to health by God.

Q: Your father died when you were only 5 years old. How did that happen?

A: He had a massive brain aneurysm. He was in intensive care for some time and then when he came home, he began to have, what's called in laymen's terms, brainstorms. He became very violent. And so he was taken off to a psychiatric hospital, where he died. He was 34. My mom was 33. I never went to the funeral. I never knew where my father was buried.

All I remember of the night my father was taken away was the tremendous secrecy. It was a very turbulent night. My father had brought his cane down on my skull. Mother had locked me in a room and sent for the doctor. The ambulance arrived with two doctors to sign the committal papers and two ambulance drivers, and it took them some time to subdue my father. So I was in a room and all I heard was noise, horrible noise. And then we never mentioned it again, never.

Q: You didn't go to the funeral?

A: No. You don't take children to funerals in Scotland, and all that happened is that all the photographs of my father were taken down and put away somewhere and we never mentioned him again. There was just something understood in a nonspoken way in our family that there are certain things you don't talk about it. And if the children appear to be doing fine, then you assume they are doing fine.

It's interesting because my son, Christian, was the exact same age as I was when his (paternal) grandfather died. William lived with us for three years after his wife died. On the night he collapsed, I called 911. Christian was downstairs, and I told him, "Sweetie, just wait downstairs." But I suddenly looked up and Christian was standing at the door looking at his grandfather on the floor.

He said, "What's happened?"

I said, "Your Papa's not feeling good, but we're getting some help."

He said, "Can I help?"

And I said, "Yes, you can help. Get a wet rag and some cold water and sit beside your papa and put it on his forehead."

It was very interesting to watch how Christian processed that event because he was part of it. He watched as the (emergency technicians) revived William, brought him back to life and then lost him and brought him back to life again, and then Christian and I followed the ambulance. It just seemed so much healthier to me. He was able to be part. There's something about mystery, about not knowing that's terrible.

Q: Growing up in Scotland in those days, was it difficult for your mother to make a living and raise children?