Len Dale - Following God's Mission

Len Dale was in a serious car wreck when he was in college, and the aftermath sent him down a new path, though not necessarily an unfamiliar one. He was a pastor’s kid, and what struck him as a boy was how fun that life seemed. “Seeing people get together,” Len said, “they always had a great time.” Yet when Len went to college, he chose general studies. Then came Easter break during his second year of college and a car ride to California with five buddies.

On the return trip, they were worried about getting back to school on time. “Our car hit a cement hospital sign,” Len said. “Three of us were thrown out of the car. We were physically torn up. I suffered a broken right hand and wrist, and torn diaphragm that resulted in my stomach and spleen going up to collapse my left lung. Dave, who was directly in front of me, died in the accident.” As Len spent the next three months recovering from his injuries, he said, he felt a range of negative emotions including anger and frustration. “Then while I was in recovery, and I know this is going to sound weird, but a person came into the room and put a piece of paper on my chest,” Len said. “He said, ‘I don’t know what to say but maybe this will help.’” Then the person left without ever introducing himself to Len or explaining how he even knew he was in the hospital.

Len opened the paper and saw that it was a scripture passage, Philippians 4:6-7, which states that we should have no anxiety, but to pray with thanksgiving and the peace of God will guard our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. “That was a turning point for me,” Len said. After reading that passage, he began to grasp God’s grace and just what faith meant. That was in 1969.

Len had begun dating his future wife, Anne, before the wreck. “We first met when we were in the same third-grade class at Wichita Lutheran School,” Anne said. “Years later, we were re-introduced at St. John's College, Winfield, Kansas by a mutual friend.” They married in 1971, by which time Len had decided to enter Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, Missouri. “I wasn't surprised that Len was enrolled in the Pre-Ministerial Program,” Anne said, “since his father was a Lutheran pastor in Wichita. Plus, our mutual friend said Len had been active for years in Lutheran youth leadership roles throughout the Kansas District. At that point in our freshman year, I knew seminary and Len were a package deal.”

When Len left the Missouri Synod seminary, the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago became his alma mater. Of the Missouri synod, Len said, “None of it was me. It was too much legalism.” While at seminary, Len and a buddy started a home improvement business to make ends meet. Len graduated and received his first call in 1975.

Now, 41 years later, Len has recently retired from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA,) though ministry will always be a part of him. As he looks back, he sees an incredibly rewarding journey.

Len Dale in the theater where
Hope Lutheran congregation met

His first call was to serve as an assistant in youth and campus ministry in the St. Louis area. “Then out of the blue,” Len said, “I got a call to start a new congregation, in Minnesota of all places.” That call came only two years after his first call, which Len said is surprising because generally pastors needed to serve three years before being asked to start a new congregation. But Len accepted this new call, and the next adventure began.

“Anne is nine months pregnant,” Len said, “and we’re driving our ’70 Vega from St. Louis to Minnesota. As soon as we got off the interstate, there was a huge snowstorm. Anne is scraping ice off the windshield with a credit card, and crying ‘Why are we doing this.’” Len wondered too for that moment just what they had gotten themselves into. Yet it became the place where their daughter and two sons were born, and where they remained for 11 years.

Len spent many hours after first moving to Minnesota building relationships within the community, which would translate into building a congregation. He knocked on doors to meet people, got involved in community events, led parenting classes, and taught at the community college. Meanwhile Anne started a ‘parents of twins club’ since they were parents of twin boys.

Anne (far left) and Len (right)
at their daughter's baptism

His congregation, which would eventually be called Hope Lutheran Church, first began meeting in a theater on a community college campus, giving it some visibility early on. The theater also provided a novel setting that made each Sunday interesting. “It had comfortable seating and good acoustics,” Len said, “and you never knew what you’d see. There might be scenery from Fiddler on the Roof in the background.” Len said that his daughter, who was baptized in the theater, coincidentally ended up getting married years later in a theater setting because of inclement weather.

During those early years, Len was asked to become a part-time chaplain for the state of Minnesota, specializing in chemical dependency and addiction. Countless people and stories fill Len's memory from that time. There was a man who was abusive, and threatening to harm Len and the other counselors. Len was able to talk him down, and thus avert what could have become an even more volatile situation. “Five years later,” Len said, “that man called to tell me he was serving his time and making amends.” Another individual, a woman Len had counseled, called him one day some years later to ask if he would officiate at her wedding.

Len (far right) in front of Trinity Lutheran Church

In 1988, Len’s career path took another turn. He received a call to be a co-pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church in Great Bend, Kansas. Len accepted the call and spent the next eight years in what he said was a wonderful partnership with Pastor Gary Teske.

“Lenny was a good colleague, a good friend, and our families were very close,” Gary said. “We split the preaching responsibilities right down the middle, and in other areas of ministry we tried to play to each other's strengths. I felt like we were each other's greatest fans, minimizing competition and really pulling for each other to do well. Those were some very enjoyable, rewarding and fruitful years of ministry.”

Len’s course changed again in 1997, when he received a call from then Central States Synod Bishop Charlie Maahs to serve as Mission Director for the synod, based in Overland Park, Kansas. Bishop Emeritus Maahs said that Len was a perfect candidate for the job. “He would bring to the position a variety of contexts and types of ministry with which he had experience,” Maahs said. “For example, Len had experience in working with youth, campus ministry, a chaplain in a treatment center, Global Mission ministry (the Philippines), as a pastor in both large and small congregations, and most important, a mission developer of a congregation.”

After a family discussion, it was decided that Len would accept the call but his family would remain in Great Bend so that his sons could finish high school. For the next year, Len stayed in the former White Haven Motor Lodge on Metcalf Avenue and commuted to Great Bend as he could.

The Dale Family in the late 1980s

Len’s job was to develop new congregations and serve as a resource for the region which at that time included Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska, Oklahoma and Arkansas. He loved the work but said he was never comfortable with his title. “We don’t direct mission,” Len said. “Who directs mission? God does. The idea of directing is from the corporate world. We are partners in God’s mission.”

That will sound familiar to the people of Holy Cross Lutheran Church, which is also Len’s home church. At Holy Cross, we are called mission partners as opposed to members for that very reason.

“I never introduced myself as a director,” Len said. “Now, the whole idea of mission is evolving in a very positive way, but there are still congregations holding onto the ‘50s and ‘60s model. It’s a constant struggle.”

Developing congregations was much more than a local endeavor for Len. Some highlights during his tenure include traveling to Papua, New Guinea as part of a companion synod team to teach stewardship for a couple of months, and serving as an interim pastor for a congregation in the Philippines. Len’s father was also a mission developer who served in such places as Korea and the Philippines. A trip to Asia was another meaningful experience for Len. “I’m thankful for the opportunity to travel with ELCA delegations in China to see how we could be partners with the emerging church there,” Len said. What he found amazed him.

“This was after the Cultural Revolution with its oppression,” Len said. He described how, under the leadership of a female pastor, people who made $3 a week came together to build a new church. What intrigued him is the way the pastor would stand up to make announcements, and then single out several people who would then be responsible for the readings and other worship assistance that particular day. “This is awesome,” Len said he remembers thinking, “there are no professionals here. She points to you, and you get up and do the reading.”

That freedom from strict choreography of worship, the ability to simply join in when asked, is something Len wishes he saw more of. “One of the low points for me has been the division,” Len said. “Our theological debates focused on important current issues often become so intense that we lose sight of God’s grace. We are stuck in anxiety and uncertainty.”

Len’s comments aren’t a surprise, considering the gifts his wife said he brought to the ministry. “Len’s greatest gifts of ministry were,” Anne said, “acceptance of each person he met, the ability to see the big picture, which gave him perspective, an innovative and forward-thinking vision, and boundless energy.”

Retiring for Len was a natural transition. “I never thought I’d be in this position that long,” Len said. “It’s been fascinating to work with different bishops, leadership styles, expectations.”

Central States Synod Bishop Roger Gustafson said that Len will be missed. “I came to greatly value Len’s deep knowledge of the synod – its congregations and their various dynamics, its congregation members and its pastors,” he said. “His observations and assessments were usually spot-on. He also has a unique ability, born of 19 years’ experience on synod staff, to perceive fruitful opportunities for new ministries. That rich experience is what I will miss most; that, and the fact that Len is simply a very likeable guy who packs a sense of humor that is refreshingly disarming. I’m proud to call him friend.”

Bishop Emeritus Maahs said much the same. “I remember him as a very positive, hopeful, and cheerful colleague with splendid teaching gifts,” he said. “Len was a joy to work with, and his legacy in terms of mission and ministry on behalf of God's people and the Church is something to celebrate.”

Presently, Len is just relaxing. But the end of September will take him to Russia, where he will teach Congregation Vitality and Leadership for six weeks. Pastor Bradn Buerkle, whose mission work in Russia is supported by Holy Cross, is setting it up. “We asked what do you need,” Len said, “and the response came back that we need help developing leaders.”

After that, Len doesn’t have any firm plans. Anne said, “I'd love to see him remain healthy, spoil his three granddaughters, travel to see family and friends, and pursue his varied hobbies: gourmet cooking, gardening and yard work, volunteering in the community, especially at museums, art galleries, plays, concerts, and sporting events.”

Len with sons Aaron and Ryan in 2004

Gourmet cooking is high on Len’s list of interests, and he has taken many classes. “I make some Philippine dishes, Korean dishes, and I love Italian,” Len said. “But I like to know what people like and that’s what I want to cook.” Len is tossing around an idea that involves a food truck, possibly an urban traveling grocery that he could take into areas that don’t have grocery stores. He hasn’t really begun to explore yet just what all that would entail. He said he also deals with chronic pain resulting from the severed nerves from his car wreck and related back problems. But he doesn’t focus on that. “Laughter, humor, exercise, and meditation are great antidotes,” Len said.

Mark and Marlene Markowicz - Creating Memories

When you get married in your early 20s, reciting the vows “in sickness and in health” doesn’t mean a whole lot. You spend your days working, raising your two sons, and going to the lake, and life just sails on. So it was for Mark and Marlene Markowicz, until the day Marlene said she really wasn’t feeling very well at all.

It was a November day, in 2012, when Marlene told her husband that she felt sick, like she was having a heart attack. She thought that if she still felt that way the next day, she would go to the doctor. No, Mark told her, you’re going to the doctor right now.

Marlene Markowicz

“There’s a space between your lung and rib cage called the pleura,” Mark said. “Marlene had two liters of fluid that had to be drained.”

That’s a lot of fluid, but when you’re just two people who haven’t had any noticeable health problems, you’re not necessarily aware that it might have significance. Marlene was sent home with the advice to go to the nearest hospital if she began feeling poorly again. So she and Mark went to Table Rock Lake as planned. “Marlene didn’t say anything,” Mark said, “but I could see she was having trouble. So we came back and went to the hospital.”

Tests showed that there was more fluid buildup that would need to be removed. While they were at the hospital, Mark said, the lung doctor who had seen Marlene a few days prior was doing her rounds. “When she saw us,” he said, “she came in and said, ‘I have some bad news.’” The doctor had ordered an analysis of the first fluid that was removed. “‘She said, “There are some cancer cells in the fluid. You need to see an oncologist.’”

Before then, they had supposed Marlene had a cold or some simple virus. They were surprised to hear the word ‘cancer.’ A visit to the oncologist brought even more shocking news. “They concluded that she was in Stage IV lung cancer,” Mark said.

Stage IV is a devastating diagnosis. According to the Mayo Clinic, such a diagnosis means that cancer has spread beyond the affected lung to the other lung or to distant areas of the body. “The doctor said ‘I cannot tell you what will happen to you,’” Mark said, “but statistically speaking, someone with that diagnosis, those symptoms, means 12 months.”

Marlene immediately started on a chemotherapy plan, Mark said. But after several months, tests showed the treatment wasn’t working, so she started on a different drug. Eventually, that drug stopped the growth of the cancer.

In May, 2013, Mark and Marlene took a trip to Florida, Louisiana and Texas to visit family and friends. “Her attitude was great,” Mark said. “She was getting her hair back. She was more motivated. She went 15 to 16 months with no symptoms.”

But in September, 2014, the cancer was growing again, so Marlene had to begin another round of chemotherapy. “Three or four days after the treatment,” Mark said, “she was physically sick. The toll it took, she could barely get out of bed.”

(from left) Jason, Mark, Marlene and Eric Markowicz

Marlene was scheduled to take a total of six treatments, one every three weeks. During this time, Mark tried to keep her comfortable, but mostly he watched her suffer. “I finally said, Marlene, in a 30-day period, you’re sick 25 days. Is that worth it?” But Marlene had a goal to stay alive: both their sons were planning their weddings. She was also taking care of her mother, who was in a nursing home.

Their youngest son, Eric, and his fiancée, Erin, were getting married in December, 2014. With the doctor’s consent, Marlene held off taking that month’s treatment until the day before the wedding so that she would feel okay. The wedding was at Pilgrim Chapel in Kansas City, and Marlene held her own. But a week later, Marlene, who had been mobile, couldn’t walk. With no warning or explanation, her legs quit working. “We didn’t have equipment or guidance to know what to do,” Mark said. “We got a walker, we eventually figured it all out. But obviously, this was not good at all.”

After running tests, the doctors couldn’t find a reason for her sudden lack of mobility. Finally, Mark took her to the hospital on December 29. Unfortunately, there was a flu epidemic at that time, and Marlene sort of fell through the cracks while the harried emergency room staff attended to all the sick people. So they went back home, only to return on January 2. By then, the flu epidemic had somewhat subsided, and finally Marlene got to see a neurologist who performed a spinal tap.

The news wasn’t good. “We got the results on January 6,” Mark said. “The cancer had moved into her spine and was working on the nerves. That’s why she couldn’t walk.” Marlene went under hospice care the next day, since the prognosis was about a month to live.

Their oldest son, Jason, knew he wanted to get married while his mother was alive. “You know how long it takes to plan weddings,” Mark said. “Eric and Erin got this planned in 24 hours.” Since Mark and Marlene were Holy Cross mission partners, they called the church and Pastor Mike Peck agreed to officiate. Erin and Kimberli, Jason’s fiancée, got Marlene all dressed up, and did her hair and makeup. Marlene’s best friend from high school, Jana, flew in unannounced and was able to join them. “The ceremony was in the living room,” Mark said. “The procession was coming down the stairs.” They even had a catered meal. “I could tell Marlene was a little emotional about it,” Mark said.

(From left:) Kim, Jason, Marlene and Rini

During the next weeks, Kansas City Hospice helped a lot. “They were honest with any question I had,” Mark said. “They didn’t pull any punches. When I asked, they said you have about two weeks.” 

Mark said he wrote down the goals and observations for each day – pain, medication, food, whether the nurse was coming, when to change the sheets. “You kind of enter a zone where you almost go into slow motion,” he said, “at least that’s what I did. I was able to process it a little more calmly. What do I need to do? Who do I reach out to? Who do I call?” He was thankful that Pastor Jon Wolf had come by earlier in January and mentioned something Mark hadn’t even thought about. “Jon was the one who said if you have some questions, need some guidance on the funeral service, we’re here,” Mark said. Receiving that advice allowed Mark to do something useful and for Marlene to participate.

Marlene lost her battle with cancer on February 2, 2015. Her memorial service was held at Holy Cross on February 7. Some of the people who came were ones who had been with them throughout these past two years, bringing medical supplies, meals, planting a garden, visiting, praying with them.

The girl Mark had met when he was just home from serving in Vietnam, who wore her hair a little ratted up, who was level-headed and fun, who had strong family roots, his wife of 43 years, now gone from his life. But not her memory. When Mark sees a red Chevrolet Cruze like the one she drove, he does a double take. And then there’s Marlene’s gift to Mark, a little dog named Norie.

“One of the good things Marlene did, when she was feeling well, was to say we have to go get a rescue dog,” Mark said. “She knew I was going to be by myself around the house.” Marlene found a dog on the Internet through LL Dog Rescue, a Yorkshire Terrier mix. They named the dog Norie, after Nori Aoki, the Kansas City Royals right-fielder at the time, who they liked because of his wild catches during the playoffs.

Norie

“She’s a cute little dog,” Mark said. “She bonded with Marlene, and would curl up with Marlene on the bed. Then when Marlene passed, she bonded with me. She’s been a great dog. Unconditional love. And when I see her, I think that’s the dog Marlene picked.”

Mark wanted to add an ending paragraph to this story. Here is what he has to say: “Before that, let me thank the pastors, staff and partners of Holy Cross for their help and attention. Thank you all. The initial prognosis was 12 months. Marlene made 28 months before she passed with 13 months being chemo free. She never lost hope. That is a blessing. During her time in home hospice I did pray that Jesus would relieve her pain and take her into His kingdom. She is in a better place. I miss her. I love her. My journey now is to do the right thing by God and friend so that one day I’ll see Marlene again.”

Larry Colburn - a passion for gymnastics

Gymnastics has been around for thousands of years, and has come a long way since being banned in 393 AD by Theodosius, a Roman Emperor, because it was believed to cause corruption. It is synonymous in the U.S. with names like Mary-Lou Retton, Nadia Comaneci, and Bart Conner.

In Johnson County, gymnastics got its start in 1969 at Shawnee Mission East High School as an

Larry Colburn spotting a gymnast

intramural sport, led by a coach who was a gymnast when he was in high school. His name – Larry Colburn. Larry has been referred to as the ‘Father of Gymnasts’ in Johnson County.  He led gymnastic demonstrations at places like Metcalf South Shopping Center to draw attention to the sport. Larry also started age group gymnastic classes through Johnson County Parks and Recreation, including the well-known Kansas Kips. “A kip is a quick movement in gymnastics,” Larry said. “Hank Stram’s wife came up with the name.”

Larry credits his own gymnastics teacher, L.R. “Dad” Perry with setting him on a path that has brought him multiple awards. Under Perry's tutelage, Larry was a gymnast and pole vaulter at Lawrence (KS) High School. At KU, Larry was a gymnast and Yell leader, and one year was the Jayhawk mascot during football season.

He had already met his future wife, who lived a couple of blocks away from him growing up. “She was two years younger than me,” Larry said of the girl named Gini. “I knew who she was. She knew who I was.” They began dating the summer after Larry had graduated, when Larry needed a date for a movie. “She was the first one I thought of,” Larry said, “and I called her. On our second date, we played tennis. She wore a pink outfit she had made.”

They dated throughout college, while Larry earned degrees in physical education and biology and a master’s degree in secondary school administration, and Gini earned a teaching degree in English. Larry had started out wanting to be an architect, but said he discovered that “I have some artistic talent but not any creativity.” His dad had been a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse, so teaching was something Larry understood and he switched majors. Larry and Gini married in 1967 and moved to Elkhart, Indiana, where Larry was hired to teach physical education and coach gymnasts and pole vault.

A couple of years later, they returned to Johnson County. Larry got a job teaching physical education and coaching track at Shawnee Mission East. Gini taught English at the newly opened Shawnee Mission Northwest High School, making her one of the teachers hired for the first year the school was open.

Larry Colburn, back row, far right,
2nd year of coaching in Elkhart, Indiana

When Larry started an intramural gymnastics class, he said that 40 kids were coming regularly. That’s what caught the attention of the athletic director, a man Larry knew well, and is why gymnastics was added to the curriculum as a regular sport.

During this time, Larry coached boys’ gymnastics. His teams placed five times in the top five, and were Kansas State Champions in 1978. Twelve of those males were chosen as high school gymnastics All-Americans, and three were state champions.

'72-'73 Third in State

While he was in high school, Larry twisted his knee, tearing cartilage. He started running cross country to build up his knee, but it continued to bother him. As a gymnastics coach, he eventually tore muscles in his shoulders from spotting and lifting so many kids. He decided it was time to take a break, in part so he could heal, in part so he could make a better living, but mostly because he had two children of his own. “I realized I was spending more time with everyone else’s kids than I did with my own,” Larry said. So in 1979 he took a desk job at Hallmark, in the scheduling department.

To go from a career where you’re physically active most of the time to a desk job is quite a shock to the system, as Larry discovered. But it allowed him time to coach his kids’ sports, to join the family for dinners, and for his body to begin healing.  Eventually Larry changed jobs again, taking a position in 1985 in sales for Uarco Business Forms, where he won the company’s Quinnquillian Award for five consecutive years of quota sales.

Kyle Englekren

But coaching was calling Larry back. It was 1995, and Larry took stock of his life. His kids were grown, college was paid for. “And I thought, why am I doing this?” Larry said. “I want to go back and do what I have a passion for.”

In the fall of 1995, Larry returned to coaching, first at Shawnee Mission North, next at Shawnee Mission Northwest. He transferred back to Shawnee Mission East in 1998. He coached both boys and girls pole vaulting, and his athletes placed 10 times in the top five at the State meet, including two state champions. Erin Wesley vaulted 12 feet, setting the State 6A mark, and Kyle Englekren cleared 15 feet.

Larry Colburn, second row, far left
with girls team 6th in State

Since boys gymnastics had been dropped as a sport in Kansas, Larry became the coach for girls gymnastics. His teams placed fifth, fourth, and third two times, then placed second in the 2006-2007 season. Eight girls were chosen high school gymnastics All Americans, and two were state champions.

Larry himself was twice selected for the L.R. “Dad” Perry Award for contribution to the sport of gymnastics by the Kansas Gymnastics Association. “To receive such an award was really meaningful for me,” Larry said. “He was my mentor.” Larry was selected KGA Gymnastics Coach of the Year in 1972, 1979, 2001 and 2006. The Kansas Coaches Association named Larry Coach of the Year in Kansas in 2001 and 2006. The 2006 award was also recognized by the National Coaches Association.

Larry is quick to credit his wife’s support in helping him excel, as well as the athletes he coached. “I feel a little funny about this,” Larry said about sharing his story, “as any success I have achieved is because I was blessed to have a number of talented athletes to work with. And, I need to add, a ‘coaches’ wife’ that was very understanding.”

Colburn family photo
Larry & Gini Colburn, back row, left

But all the physical exertion involved in coaching was taking its toll. “My body was just giving out,” Larry said. “I was no longer effective as a spotter.” In addition, Larry had broken his ankle in 1995 when he jumped off a wall while painting a neighbor’s house and landed wrong.

His ankle hadn’t healed correctly, and the added pressure of coaching continued to weaken it over the next years. “I was in constant pain,” Larry said, “and it was changing my personality. I was becoming curt.”

Larry finally retired in the spring of 2007, but continued coaching pole vaulting.  His ankle still gave him trouble, so he eventually went to another doctor. “He said you shouldn’t be walking on this, let alone coaching on it,” Larry said. Part of the bone had died, and all the doctor could offer was to freeze his ankle in place. Then in 2009, a new procedure became available. It was designed by a Swedish Lutheran doctor and was called STAR, Scandinavian Total Ankle Replacement. It’s the only three-piece mobile bearing total ankle available in the United States. In 2011, there were only four doctors in this country that could perform the surgery, and one of them was an orthopedic surgeon in Kansas City. Larry had the surgery in 2011, and it was successful in restoring movement without pain.

Coach Colburn and Alex Erpelding

Larry coached pole vaulting through the end of the 2014 season, and has continued his interest in gymnastics as a judge in state competitions. Besides his coaching skills, Larry has shared his tenor singing voice with a men’s quartet, the church choir, and the Heart of America Chorus. “I sang at a lot of weddings and funerals as I grew up,” Larry said.

All the awards that Larry and his athletes have received are testament to his coaching ability. So too are the Christmas cards and letters Larry receives from former athletes. Looking back, Larry said, “I wish I would have been a better athlete myself. I always told my students that if they aspired to my level of accomplishment, we weren’t going to be very good.” 

Sherry Meyer - death in the middle of life

Death is a normal part of life, right? We all know that generally speaking, we get old and then we die. But sometimes death comes much sooner. It steals life away when a marriage is vibrant. It robs young children of a parent. It cheats friends and family of a beloved companion.

Jeff and Sherry Pearce July 4, 2007

Sherry Meyer, who is our Director of Resource Management and Development, can tell you about how death can come all too soon. She knows the story well. Life was totally normal in early 2007. She and her husband, Jeff Pearce, lived active, busy lives. They were parents of two children, Alexis, 8, and Zachary, 4. Sherry and Jeff would celebrate their 12^th wedding anniversary in July. There was no question, in early 2007, that birthdays and anniversaries would continue to occur.

Sherry and Jeff met in 1993 through mutual friends. She was almost 27; he was almost 30. They started dating, and eventually married in 1995. Jeff had always been athletic, and had played a variety of sports when he was young. That year, in 2007, he started having unexplained headaches. No big deal really. But eventually the headaches bothered him enough that he went to a neurologist, who prescribed a stronger pain medication to help.

That spring, Jeff was playing a basketball game with friends, when he collided with someone and went down. He landed a little funny, Sherry said, and started limping. Again, no big deal. But the limping continued longer than it should have, so he went to a doctor, got X-rays which showed nothing, and started physical therapy. “It was kind of helping,” Sherry said. “But then, he was going for a bike ride and couldn’t get his leg up over the bike bar. That was kind of strange.”

Soon, Jeff’s foot started dropping as he walked. That, combined with the weakness in his leg, pointed to the possibility of nerve damage. So Jeff visited a neurosurgeon, and had a series of MRIs, all of which showed nothing unusual going on. The neurosurgeon performed a minor procedure on Jeff’s leg to see if there was something pressing on the nerves, but again, all looked fine.

Jeff with children Zachary and Alexis

By this time, Jeff was wearing a foot brace to help him walk better. “But it was becoming very noticeable that something was wrong,” Sherry said. “His balance was off.” Sherry said that one doctor had mentioned MS (multiple sclerosis) but said that probably wasn’t what it was. Other than that, they hadn’t considered that Jeff had anything other than some type of nerve damage that just wasn’t showing up on tests.

“In the beginning of November, at the follow up appointment with the neurosurgeon, he noticed there were muscles twitching in Jeff’s arm and he suggested we make a follow up appointment with Jeff’s neurologist,” Sherry said.  “At this point, I decided to go to the doctor with him. I wanted to know what was going on.”

They went to the appointment with the neurologist who had helped Jeff with the headaches. This was the first time they heard words that they weren’t familiar with, but that would ultimately change their lives. “She (the doctor) said I’d like to test for ALS first. I didn’t have a clue what that was,” Sherry said, meaning she knew nothing about the disease itself. “When we were leaving, Jeff turned to me and said, ‘Do you know what that is?’ I said yes, it’s Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Jeff said, ‘There’s no treatment. No cure.’”

The Pearce Family, about a week before diagnosis

Jeff was scheduled to return in a week. In the meantime, the neurologist warned them, don’t get on the Internet and start reading about ALS. “Of course, that’s the first thing I did,” Sherry said. “And we prayed don’t let it be anything like that.”

But sadly, ALS is the diagnosis Jeff received. “It was like a bomb,” Sherry said. “I felt like the world ended on that day. And it did, because nothing was ever the same.” This was in mid-November, 2007.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord. The affected nerve cells are motor neurons, which send signals to muscles throughout the body, controlling voluntary movement and muscle power. Without these signals, the muscles atrophy and the body dies. There is no cure, and it’s a fatal disease.

When Jeff was diagnosed, Sherry said, she heard things she had never imagined for their life together. Walkers and wheelchairs, breathing tubes, feeding tubes. “They were just suffocating me,” she said. The information was meant to be helpful, and eventually it would be, but at that time, Sherry needed to shut down and try to process this.

Trying to be normal, after diagnosis

Anger was foremost. “People would say they were praying for us,” she said, “but I’m thinking, exactly what are these prayers doing, because he’s getting worse. His progression was so fast it was hard to keep up with.”

She and Jeff tried desperate measures – dietary, detoxing, supplements, sweating it out, even a hair analysis that could give them a reading on minerals that he might need. They read everything they could find about the disease. “I think when you have no hope, you’re willing to try anything,” Sherry said.

Jeff began walking with a cane in December that year, and by January he was using a walker. He continued to work, but his job involved a lot of travel, and he finally had to stop working in February. Jeff had also been involved at Holy Cross through Community Ministries, and gave a lot of time and effort to Metro Lutheran Ministries. He continued to serve as an usher on Sundays, even while using a cane. In March and April of 2008, Sherry noticed that Jeff’s voice was starting to go. “He was getting harder to understand,” she said. By June, he was using a wheelchair.

As Jeff’s health continued to deteriorate, Sherry’s concern was trying to keep up with her kids while protecting them from a reality too harsh for them to grasp. As their classmates starting asking them if their dad was going to die, they asked Sherry that question. “I couldn’t lie to them,” Sherry said. “So I said we don’t know. We’re doing everything we can.”

But there was no escaping seeing Jeff grow thinner, be unable to move or talk, be confined to sitting in a wheelchair day after day, be fed through a tube. Looking back, Sherry said it was pure torture for Jeff, because he was completely cognizant of what was happening. He even found a way to express to her that he didn’t expect to be alive through the holidays that year, almost as though it were his wish.

In early April, 2009, Jeff made the decision to stop eating. He took only a little bit of water, and was administered morphine to keep him as comfortable as possible. Jeff grew up Lutheran, and his faith allowed him to accept that he wasn’t going to beat this. During this time, Sherry’s prayer was that he would die while the children were out of the house, and in such a way that she could handle. “And that’s exactly how it happened,” she said. 

The morning of April 15, Sherry said, she looked at Jeff, and saw the changes in breathing, and knew this would be the day. Alexis and Zachary were at school. Sherry had been Jeff’s primary caregiver throughout the past year and a half, and had used hospice care only minimally along with a few hours a week of paid help. That morning, she called for a hospice nurse to come over, but learned no one would be available until later that day. “I thought, I probably don’t want to do this myself,” Sherry said, “so I called the church and talked to (Pastor) Mike, and he came over.” The two kept watch over Jeff as he breathed his last. Pastor Mike said he was there for about two hours, praying and talking with Sherry, checking on Jeff's breathing, and remaining with her until the funeral home came to pick up his body.

The sixth anniversary of Jeff’s death was this past week, April 15, 2015. It fell on a Wednesday, which is also the same day of the week that Jeff passed away. Coincidentally, that is the day Sherry sat down to share this story. As she recounted the above, she described how she can see God’s hand all through it. Her initial anger was replaced with gratitude, as people called, came to visit, sat with Jeff so she could take a break, helped with her kids, and brought meals. “I didn’t think anyone was helping,” Sherry said, “but when I look back, they were all doing stuff. Those meals were wonderful. It became an adventure for my kids – what are we having for dinner tonight?” She continued, “It was easy at first to say where was God. Jeff got cheated out of raising two kids. I got cheated and it’s not fair. But it was God who brought those people into our lives. We were surrounded by so many people that cared for me and the kids. He was always there, providing for us.”

The year following Jeff’s death was one of transition. There was the initial relief from the intense burden of caregiving that was forced upon Sherry, followed with deep grief and the sense of great loss. There was worry about the future and finances and trying to be a single parent to two active children. Jeff died about a week before his 46^th birthday. So on April 23, his birthday, daughter Alexis said, “Daddy won’t be able to celebrate here with us but he can celebrate in heaven.”

Eventually, Sherry realized that life continues and so she started to let herself be more open to getting back out in its midst. The way she had met Jeff through mutual friends would repeat itself again in her life, as a friend introduced her to a man named Allen Meyer. “He brought me back to life,” Sherry said of Allen. “He knew my situation. He was open and genuine from the very beginning.”

Sherry and Allen Meyer

Sherry and Jeff had a good marriage, so she was okay with the thought of another relationship. Allen and Sherry connected right away, and their friendship grew as they got to know each other. They married in May, 2011.

“I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that I don’t think of Jeff,” Sherry said. “It was a lot of transition. What would have been, what could have been. You can either wallow in that or move on. I had to grow and learn.”

Sherry is happily married to Allen, but that doesn’t diminish the grief that still overtakes her occasionally. But Allen has come to understand how to be her friend during those times. For example, on April 15 a week ago, as Sherry shared this story, she got a text from Allen, who was out of town, letting her know he realized this was a difficult day for her, and that he was thinking of her.

We Christians celebrated Easter a couple of weeks ago. Easter is God’s story of death and resurrection, and it is why we can have hope through tragedy. Sherry’s story illustrates that hope.

Dianne Ready - a tingling feeling that something was wrong

Most of you have probably had a tingling arm at some time – that sensation that a limb was asleep and is awakening. Or the residual feeling after hitting your funny bone. But when is a tingle more than just that?

For Dianne Ready, the day she distinctly remembers such a tingle starting was Thanksgiving, 1980. She and her family were at her grandparents’ home, in St. Paul, Minnesota. “The tingling went down my right arm, and my neck,” Dianne said. “It was not painful, but annoying. I thought it will go away, but it didn’t go away.”

Dianne Ready serving at
Blessings Abound thrift store

A normal assumption was that it might be a pinched nerve, though generally there is pain with a pinched nerve. Dianne made a doctor’s appointment to get it checked out. The doctor sent her to the hospital to run some tests, including a spinal tap. The diagnosis was inconclusive. “I can tell you a hundred things you don’t have, but not what you have,” is what Dianne remembers the doctor saying. “It was disconcerting,” she said, “because I just wanted to know what it was.” Dianne was 32 at that time.

It would be another six years before that question would be answered, in large part because Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) had finally become widely available and reliable.

Through the next years, Dianne continued in her job with human resources for a firm that specialized in animal health care products, but most of her job involved typing. As the tingling went all the way to her fingertips, typing because increasingly difficult. Then colleagues started making comments that got her attention, such as, “What did you do to your leg? You’re limping.” Dianne hadn’t even been aware she was limping. As with her arm, the symptoms affected her right leg and foot.

By 1986, the symptoms had increased enough that Dianne knew something was wrong, and made another doctor’s appointment. This time, with the use of MRI, lesions were noted on her brain.

She and her husband, Dick, were asked to meet with the doctor once the test results were in. Dianne had met Dick when she was 18 and working at the Jones Store Co. in Prairie Village. “I worked in the sportswear department, and he came in looking for a gift for his girlfriend in Ohio, a sweater or a blouse,” Dianne said. “Everything I showed him, he said, ‘I don’t want to spend that much money.’” From that comment, Dianne inferred that Dick and his girlfriend must not have a good relationship. Sure enough, after that meeting, Dick, who also worked at the store, started stopping by the sportswear department just to say hi. Dianne and Dick were soon dating, and married in 1968.

Dianne and Dick Ready

At the doctor’s office, Dianne and Dick received news that would send their world spinning. The diagnosis was Multiple Sclerosis. “It was a real shock,” Dianne said. “I didn’t even know what questions to ask. I said, if there’s a cure do you keep me on a mailing list or what? And the doctor said that a cure isn’t likely.”

Dianne said that particular doctor’s bedside manner was poor. He didn’t offer any suggestions, a word of hope, or even much basic information. But the next day, as Dianne was trying to process what this all meant, her husband paid a visit to an organization that could help. “Dick had gone to the MS Society and gotten a lot of info,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that. He even had a brochure on newly diagnosed people.”

The information contained details of a support group, so Dianne decided to try it. But what she found, she said, was that the people in the group were all at different stages than she was, more severe stages, so she didn’t return.

Multiple Sclerosis is an immune-mediated disease, where the immune system eats away at the protective covering, called myelin, of the nerves. The damaged myelin forms scar tissue, called sclerosis.

Dianne’s diagnosis was Primary-Progressive MS, which affects about 10 percent of people diagnosed with MS. The disease steadily worsens from the onset, though the rate of progress varies among individuals. PPMS involves less inflammation than the other three courses of MS, so there remains some controversy regarding whether any type of medication is useful. There is no cause or cure as yet identified, though it is thought to be triggered in a genetically susceptible person by one or more environmental factors. PPMS tends to affect the ability to walk more than the other three courses of MS.

For Dianne, who has lived with the disease almost 35 years, the progression has given her a variety of challenges. Her right hand is stiff and curled into a fist. She can use force to unbend her fingers, but they won’t then stay in that position. She uses a cane but walks with a slow gait. “I fought using a transport chair, a chair with wheels that someone pushes, for a long time,” she said. “I don’t know if it was vanity, or if I didn’t want to admit that I needed it.” But she has come to appreciate how helpful it is for navigating longer distances, such as when in a shopping mall or an airport. Dick is normally her navigator, but many others have helped.

One Sunday at worship, Dianne received an epiphany of sorts that would allow her to make a decision that she had been wanting to make for quite a while, and that was to leave her job. “The gospel was Matthew 6:25-34,” Dianne said, referring to a text that says we need not worry about tomorrow. “As I listened, I got all teary-eyed,” she said, “and I knew that God was speaking to me and would take care of me. And I said that’s it, I’m done. I informed my supervisor of the decision to go on long-term disability the next day.”

Dianne Ready (far right) with three others
from Holy Cross serving at Grand Avenue Temple

Though retired, Dianne doesn’t spend much time sitting idly. When she and Dick came to Holy Cross 10 years ago, she became involved in Community Ministries. “I was made aware of all the opportunities to help,” Dianne said. “There was so much to do. I was excited.”

Dianne especially enjoys serving monthly at a breakfast for clients of Metro Lutheran Ministries, where she greets and hands out silverware and plates. “I love the interaction with people,” she said, “their appreciation for what we do. Many say God bless you as they go through the line.”

She helps weekly at Blessings Abound thrift store, pricing donated items. At Holy Cross, she serves as a greeter at the welcome center. Dianne also is the intake coordinator for HopeBUILDERS, entering information in the database for clients who need help with such things as minor home repairs and wheelchair ramps. After she had mentioned to a few Holy Cross mission partners who are active with HopeBUILDERS that it would be nice to have easier access to the west wing of the building, a ramp appeared the next week.

Dianne also has mentored others diagnosed with MS. “I just want to let them know there’s hope,” she said, “to support them and tell them what my journey is like, that they’re not alone.”

She has not had to walk this path alone either. She and Dick have an adult son and daughter, and three grandchildren. But it is Dick who has been her rock. “God gave me an incredible and loving caregiver,” Dianne said, “who makes certain my life is easier and less stressful.”

Dianne also is thankful for family and friends who offer concern and support. “People in general are so kind, so considerate,” she said. “I’m truly blessed.”

Craig Gerwick - professional chef and caterer

When you’re a 12-year-old boy whose parents work full-time, and you come home hungry after a sports regimen, raiding the fridge is to be expected. Craig Gerwick took that scenario a bit further though.

“I was on the swim team, and I ‘d be starving,” Craig said. “So I started cooking out of necessity.” Eventually, that experience led to a career as a professional chef.

Craig Gerwick at a banquet

As a youth, Craig learned how to read recipes and experiment with spices. “Curry, fennel, anise seed, caraway, they all have their own taste,” he said. He also learned that adding just a little more cayenne wasn’t always a good idea. Under the tutelage of his mom, Clara Gerwick, Craig’s knowledge of cooking continued to grow and improve.

He got a job at what was then Nall Hills Country Club as a dishwasher when he was 12, and a couple of years later became a waiter. At age 15, he was working two jobs, cooking at both the country club and a nursing home. Though he was still a student at Shawnee Mission South High School, Craig got out at noon on a work release, enabling him to work both places.

After high school, Craig attended the new hospitality management program at Johnson County Community College. While there, he learned a good deal more about cooking, as well as gaining the valuable experience of how to manage a staff and run a kitchen.

One of Craig's appetizers

He completed that program, and then elected to be trained at the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco. “It was hands-on cooking the day I got there,” Craig said. He learned how to be a Garde Manger chef, which is considered by many to be the most demanding station/job in any kitchen. It involves learning how to season both hot and cold food, being aware of sanitation, plate presentation, buffet decorating, becoming skilled in ice carvings, and basically how to put different kinds of food together in the tastiest and freshest ways.

The training also included working a cruise line for three months at a time. “You work 10 hours a day, cooking for 2,000 every shift,” Craig said. “I was only off ship for two hours a day.” Craig said that getting used to the movement of a ship took some practice, and that the first storm was especially challenging. He described a time when he was carrying a pot of stock and vegetables that weighed 50 to 60 pounds, when a swell came, causing him to lose his footing. The pot landed squarely on his chest, a painful experience, but thankfully not as bad as it could have been if the stock had been heated.

Craig Gerwick busy cooking

Craig said that in his class of 150, only 18 graduated. “You know the show ‘Hell’s Kitchen?’ ” Craig said. “Multiply Gordon Ramsey by eight chefs doing that all day. They try to belittle you but at the same time teach you.” It took quite a bit of stamina to put up with that day after day.

After Craig graduated from the culinary institute, he found it necessary to get what he called a “working chef license” from the American Culinary Federation. Finally, he was ready for a career. He worked four years for a hotel chain, 16-hour days, managing a staff of 12, cooking for as many as 5,000 people for conventions, receptions and the like.  He followed this with a five-year stint at an upscale senior living facility that was then at 119^th and Lamar in Overland Park. “They were looking for good quality food,” Craig said, rather than the bland stuff you might imagine. Next, he consulted with his family’s health care organization, C&L Gerwick Associates, helping with menus, purchasing and more.

It was during this time that he met his wife, Brenda. “She was selling quality pork,” Craig said, which meant he saw her regularly because their jobs intersected. Since Brenda lived in Des Moines, Iowa, they dated long distance for a couple of years before marrying in 1999.

Brenda Gerwick

In 2008, Craig started a catering company with a partner, but bought him out a couple of years later. The name of his company is Culinary Crossroads, www.culinarycrossroads.co/. It provides appetizers, salads, breakfast and dinner buffets, boxed lunches and desserts. Perhaps you’ve had some of Craig’s chicken tortilla soup, or potato soup, or beef vegetable soup at a Holy Cross Lenten supper.

Craig was also familiar with barbecued and smoked meats, having competed in the Great Lenexa BBQ Battle from 1990 to 2005. Eventually, he branched out with his own company, Orchard Pit BBQ, which offers a variety of smoked meats and gift boxes.

Orchard Pit BBQ meat presentation

The best praise Craig receives is the raves from satisfied customers. “I like to see people going wild,” he said. “I did a wedding for 262 people. The food is always fresh. There’s always plenty of food. The vegetables are green and vibrant; the brisket is tender, smoked.”

Looking ahead, Craig hopes to expand from operating on-line into opening his own storefront catering company and butcher shop. He envisions a place where people could come in and buy meat, and he could offer recipes and tips on how best to serve it.

Craig Gerwick

He has some advice for anyone seeking to follow the same path. “I wish I would have started it earlier,” Craig said, “because it takes a toll on knees and wrists.” He also says that you should never walk around with a knife in your hand, but if you do, make sure it’s sharp, because a cut from a dull knife takes a lot longer to heal.

Melissa Marienau - coaching good health

Melissa Marienau started on a path that would lead to a career in dancing. But the reality of what that sort of life was like changed her mind quickly.

“I grew up dancing,” Melissa said. “I was dancing 37 hours a week by age 17.” She wasn't the product of a stage mother or anything like that. She was simply driven by her love of dancing. Jazz, tap, ballet – she loved it all.

Melissa Marienau

After high school, Melissa moved to Los Angeles. Her goal was to be part of the dance world. She traveled weekends for dance conventions, teaching and demonstrating a variety of dance styles. But within a year, she was questioning her decision.

“The dance industry just didn't feel right,” Melissa said. “It was a gut feeling. I was thinking, do I want to be with this group of people for my whole life? Choreographers don’t really get married and have kids. And I didn't want my entire life to be about one thing.”

Melissa made the decision to move to Lawrence and attend the University of Kansas. When she arrived, she said, she had no idea what she wanted to do with herself. She talked with a counselor, who steered her toward journalism, and she started finding a focus.

She was still sports minded. Besides dancing since she was a toddler, Melissa had run track in high school, and swam a lot in her youth. But she didn't necessarily understand how to take care of her body, how to eat properly, how to have a well-rounded physical routine.

Logan & Melissa Marienau

Right after her freshman year, Melissa decided to work as a lifeguard. At her first internal employee meeting, she met Logan Marienau. “He’s the one who kind of introduced me to lifting weights,” she said. “He got me back into running. He taught me how to be more healthy. I started strength training more, running more, swimming more, living a healthy life style.”

Melissa graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Strategic Communications, a field that taught her about technology, how to keep up with the changing future, and social media. She and Logan dated four years before getting married in 2012. After moving to Kansas City, Melissa started coaching at the Jewish Community Center. In one of the JCC flyers, she saw information about triathlons, and signed up for the class.

“I was the joke of the class,” she said. “I had this old bike, handed down from my brother. I didn't know what a wind trainer was.” Fortunately, her mother-in-law, who was a triathlete, drove up from Lawrence to give Melissa her wind trainer. The class lasted for 10 or 12 weeks, Melissa said. She spent hours bike riding indoors with the wind trainer, and alternated that with swimming and running.

Melissa - competing in the
Meshugge New Year's Challenge

It was through triathlons, Melissa said, that she realized many athletes had no body awareness, didn't take time to stretch, and were unable to know what their body was feeling. So she decided to use her dance background, as well as what she had learned in college about communicating and technology, and put it to use.

“I took my whole background and turned it into a way to help athletes,” she said. Melissa spent several months searching for companies that could help her find a way to do that, then went through an eight-month process to become certified as a Yoga Sports Coach. She works part time with a travel agency, but spends most of her time building up her new business, MVMNT for Athletes, LLC.

Though she and Logan lived nearby, they had never visited Holy Cross Lutheran Church. She had grown up in a non-denominational Bible church, and Logan was more of a traditional Lutheran. Or as Melissa explained it, “He went to church where they had all these specific lines you have to say.” (In the traditional Lutheran church, we call that liturgy.)

So the couple visited about 10 different churches, but nothing seemed to fit. Melissa continued to research congregations, then said, “Hey Logan, there’s a church right down the street!” Melissa said that they attended the 10:30 a.m. contemporary worship and praise service, in the fall of 2012, and said, “This is it! No way we’re looking for another.”

Since then they've been finding their place in this faith community. She and Logan helped with the snacks for the Blessing of the Bikes, and Melissa accepted Cathy Martin’s invitation to help with altar ministry. “I said I have no clue what that is, but sure, I’ll do it,” Melissa said.

Melissa competing in
Silverback Lawrence Triathlon

She also learned about Pastor Mike’s love for marathons through following him on Twitter, so it was a natural connection to want to be part of a training group for runners and walkers that Pastor Mike wanted to start.

The group’s purpose is two-fold. “Running is a great way to create community,” Pastor Mike said. In a recent blog post, he cited how runners, whether they realize it, support a lot of charitable organizations through the sport. The training group is a springboard as such for those who might want to participate in the May 17, 2015 Triple Crown Showdown, a benefit for the Myasthenia Gravis Association. The run was started by Holy Cross Mission Partner Allison Foss, who has battled the disease her whole life. Her story can be found in an earlier blog by following this link: http://sherriarmel.blogspot.com/2013/08/allison-foss-living-with-chronic-disease.html

Melissa is a coach for the new Holy Cross training group, which for now meets at 11:30 a.m. Sunday mornings through early May. It’s a win-win situation for Melissa. “Once you get there,” she said, referring to what she has learned through a fit lifestyle, “you feel so healthy, and you want to help others feel healthy.”