The Shepherd's Song

A Story of Second Chances

Betsy Duffey, Laurie Myers

• Publisher: Hodder Faith
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9781444792980
• eBook ISBN: 9781444792973
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literature General
• Index: Literature

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures... Shortly before a tragic car accident, Kate McConnell wrote down the powerful words of Psalm 23 on a piece of paper for her wayward son. Just before she loses consciousness, Kate wonders if she's done enough with her life and prays, 'Please, let my life count.'Unbeknownst to Kate, her handwritten copy of Psalm 23 soon begins a remarkable journey around the world. From a lonely dry cleaning employee to a soldier wounded in Iraq, to a young Kurdish girl fleeing her country, to a Kenyan runner in the Rome Invitational marathon, this humble message forever changes the lives of twelve very different people. Eventually, Kate's paper makes it back to its starting place, and she discovers the unexpected ways that God changes lives, even through the smallest gestures.With beautiful prose and a 'pass it on' message reminiscent of THE SHACK, this story will touch your heart and remind you of the ways God works through us to reach beyond what we can imagine.

Kate McConnell opened her eyes. Where was she? There were bright lights above her. Movement. The sound of a siren wailing.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping somehow this all would go away. It didn’t.

An ambulance. She was in an ambulance.

What had happened?

A man’s voice called out behind her. “Female, age about forty-five, multiple injuries. BP: ninety over sixty. Pulse: one-forty. Respirations: twenty-five, short and shallow.”

Each bump and jolt of the ambulance brought pain, crushing pain in her chest and stabs of pain down her right leg. Kate tried to grab her chest, but her arms were strapped down. She shivered uncontrollably. Her blue sweater and pants were covered in something wet—gooey and wet. Blood. He was talking about her.

A brief memory came—her car sliding on the slick road, the sound of breaking glass and crunching metal. A car accident. Panic rose in her chest. She had been in an accident.

The newspaper would later say it was the worst traffic accident ever on that section of I-95 between Washington, D.C., and Baltimore—twenty-five cars, six semis, and one bus. The temperature Thursday had been fifty-five degrees, a beautiful day. Then, Friday, it fell to thirty-one, unusual for October. A sudden snowstorm dropped more than two inches of snow in just ten minutes, creating whiteout conditions that took everyone by surprise, including the drivers on I-95.

The voice behind her continued its calm clinical assessment. “In and out of consciousness. Possible head injuries.”

“Help,” she whispered. Each breath was raw. There wasn’t enough air. Dizziness swept over her. She tried again. “Help.”

“Hold on. Try to stay awake.” A young man leaned over her, making eye contact. His voice was calm, but she saw fear in his eyes.

She tried to nod but couldn’t.

“Be still; we’re on the way to the hospital.”

Everything in her wanted to fight free of the straps and the stretcher, but she couldn’t even move her head. Pain radiated from her chest and leg.

The voice began again. “Bleeding profusely from a gash in right leg—looks like an open fracture. Possible internal injuries.”

For a few seconds there was silence, the only sound the hum of tires on the road.

“Will do. We’ll be there in five to eight minutes, depending on traffic.”

What had happened? Kate remembered her morning, speeding from one activity to the next, pushing her old station wagon to the point where it shook. An early-­morning run to the grocery store, then back home, then a twenty-mile drive to deliver dinner to a friend who was recuperating from surgery, then a stop to drop off the dry cleaning, then five more things on her to-do list. Then the snow had started.

The cleaner’s. She had been trying to get back to the dry cleaner’s, but for what?

She felt a hand on her forehead, and she opened her eyes. The young man’s face came into view again. His nervous eyes studied her.

“What’s your name?”

She tried to focus. Her name?

“Kate . . . McConnell.” She gasped out each word.

“Your birthday?”

She tried to come up with the answer, but it was too confusing. Tears welled up.

“It’s all right. Just stay with me.”

“What hap—?” She wanted to finish the sentence but could not.

“You were in a car accident on the interstate.” He held her arm, feeling for a pulse. “There was a pile-up. It’s a mess out there.”

Her mouth opened and closed with a question unasked. She wanted to say the words, but nothing came out.

“Matt,” she finally gasped out the name of her son. “John.” Her husband.

“No one was with you in the car. Just rest and stay calm. We’ve got you.”

She could feel the sway of the ambulance as it passed other cars. The voice faded in and out. She closed her eyes.

A new thought came. She might die. Would it be like this, the end? So fast? With so much undone?

Kate’s mind drifted back and forth, weaving in and out of the events of the past week.

“I don’t think my life matters,” she had told a friend. “I’ve been a Christian for almost twenty-five years, and I haven’t accomplished anything. I can’t point to one single person that I’ve had an impact on, even in my own family.”

“Of course you have. You serve on the church worship committee, you deliver meals every week to people in need, and you’re always writing down scriptures for people.”

“But are those the important things?” Kate had asked. “Do those things matter?”

John. He mattered. And Matt.

“Oh, Mom,” she could hear Matt say. “You don’t believe all that stuff.”

Matt, who had drifted away from faith when he’d started college, now refused to go to church at all.

She couldn’t get through to him.

Was she really dying?

Someone lifted her eyelid. It was the young man. He looked closely into her eye, as if he was examining her soul.

“Stay with me now.”

She felt the ambulance sway, then the jolt of a sharp turn.

“Help,” Kate gasped again as pain stabbed through her side.

“Stay with me.”

A wave of dizziness. Then nothing.

John McConnell hovered over the documents on his desk, every ounce of attention focused on the case before him. Behind him shelves and shelves of legal books reached to the ceiling.

“Mr. McConnell. A phone call, line three.” His secretary spoke from the doorway.

“I said to hold all calls.” He continued scanning the document.

“I know, but . . .”

“I am well aware that we all need to get out of here.”

From his twelfth-floor office he had been watching the snow fall. Two inches piled up on his windowsill, and reports of accidents had begun popping up on the Internet.

“Did you finish those edits on the Johnson case?” he asked.

He tried to refocus his...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Imprint Page
• Dedication
• Epigraph
• Contents
• The Shepherd’s Song
• 1 The LORD is my shepherd
• 2 I shall not want
• 3 He makes me lie down in green pastures
• 4 He leads me beside still waters
• 5 He restores my soul
• 6 He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake
• 7 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
• 8 I will fear no evil, for you are with me
• 9 Your rod and your staff, they comfort me
• 10 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies
• 11 You anoint my head with oil
• 12 My cup overflows
• 13 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
• 14 And I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever
• Behind the Scenes
• Acknowledgments
• About the Authors
• A Howard Reading Group Guide