Norm Smith - caring for and about others

In what is known as Caring Ministries, there is always someone to whom people are drawn – the person with the soothing voice, comforting presence, the one who just seems to radiate God’s peace. At Holy Cross, one such person is Norm Smith.

On many Sundays, you can spot Norm serving as a coffee host, helping as a communion minister, stepping in as an usher, offering to pray with someone in need during communion. During the week, he’s facilitating Bible studies for the men’s breakfast gathering, preparing worship services for residents at assisted living facilities, leading the prayer ministry in weekly prayers, and making countless calls on people in need of a little compassion. He also gives a lot of time to Blessings Abound thrift store, Metro Lutheran Ministry, and ELCA synod work, is a Parish Ministry Associate, and past president of Lutheran Men in Mission.

Norm’s life could have been different. He could have followed in his father’s footsteps, forgoing Sunday worship to work in the family welding shop. “My dad did his best to encourage me to work on Sundays instead of going to church,” Norm said, adding that his father was raised Baptist, but became one of those people who wouldn’t step foot into a church because the roof would fall in. Norm also could have taken up drinking, and become an alcoholic like his father. He could have become abusive to others like he witnessed his father abusing his mom. But he chose a different path.

When Norm was about 10 or 11, he met a Lutheran pastor. “The Lutheran parsonage was two houses down,” Norm said, “and I watched him outside, fixing it up. Then one day he said, ‘Would you like to come to my church?’” Norm thought that was a good idea, and brought up the subject during a family meal. “My dad erupted,” Norm said, a not unexpected reaction from a man who was comfortable with anger. “But the Holy Spirit works in marvelous ways. Later, my dad said if you go, the whole family is going.”

Even at such a young age, Norm found himself relating to the pastor’s sermons, and his Lutheran heart started growing. That relationship with Pastor Schlossen left Norm with a desire to make a difference in the lives of others and to mentor. Too, Norm’s mom was a devout Christian, attending the Methodist church, and a very positive influence. Norm's twin brother, Norbert, also grew up to be a church-goer, though his job as a truck driver prevented him from regular involvement in ministry. As an adult, Norm attended Cursillo, a three-day weekend sponsored by the Catholic church that teaches lay people how to become effective Christian leaders. Norm attended the event with fellow church members, and they subsequently formed a small group. It was this experience that led Norm into the world of men’s ministry.

Kathie & Norm Smith

Norm’s work in the field of technology and business planning brought about quite a few relocations around the country as he was transferred to different offices. With each move, he found a new church home, and new friends within. He focused on starting men’s ministries, and became more involved in prayer ministry. During this time, Norm met his wife, Kathie, a Methodist at the time. A dissatisfied Methodist, though she was unaware of it, Kathie said, but now a satisfied Lutheran. They recently celebrated their 30^th anniversary.

In later years, Norm’s mother was diagnosed with cancer, and Norm tried to see her as much as he could, though that wasn’t often. “What has always gotten to me,” Norm said, “is that she had been a member of a church a long time, but they didn’t send anyone out.” Because of this, Norm added another ministry to his list, that of caring ministries. “I don’t think anybody should die alone,” he said.

Norm and Kathie came to Holy Cross in 1995. The congregation was still relatively new, having held its first worship service in 1988. Witness/Evangelism was the umbrella under which Norm’s interests lay, he said, so he jumped in pretty quickly to help grow a men’s ministry, then later to help grow a prayer ministry. “I don’t think you can have a vibrant church without a prayer ministry,” he said. To that end, he is keen to light the fire under congregants, helping them understand the importance of prayer and actively participate in praying on a regular basis. The prayer ministry, which meets every Thursday from 7-8 p.m., was strong when Holy Cross offered the Alpha program, Norm said, simply because Alpha grows people in faith and leadership. Now, three people meet regularly each week to pray for the church, the world and all those in need. Norm would love to see that number increase to five, 10, 20 or more. “I would also like to see more lay ministry participation,” he said, “more people excited about faith.”

Norm has had other interests outside of ministry. “I used to hike and backpack all the time,” he said, “but I’m too old for that now.” His only disappointment with the miles he put in was that he never saw a bear. And he looked. Even in the heavy bear-populated areas, that came with “beware of bear” warnings, he never saw a bear.

Through his involvement with caring ministries, Norm has spent countless hours with people who wanted home communion, someone to pray with them or for them, someone to listen to their stories, someone to be God’s presence in their lives. “I see miracles all the time,” Norm said. He told a story of a man who hospital staff had predicted would be dead within a day. After Norm prayed with him, the man’s health improved, he went home a couple of days later, and lived another seven or eight years. “Sometimes the miracle is that people die,” Norm said, “because they’re in such pain. But they die knowing they were feeling God’s peace and presence.”

That peace is something you pick up right away when you meet Norm. One woman whose health keeps her homebound first met Norm when he brought communion to her and her husband. “He was so nice,” she said, “so comforting to be around.” Yep, that’s Norm.

Marshall Leffler - one small step completely rearranged his life

Marshall Leffler took one small step on a fateful day that changed the course of his life. He cited the proverb, “Pride goes before a fall,” and noted that in his case, it quite literally became true. But that is too harsh a judgment for what happened to him.

Marshall is one of those people with a larger-than-life personality. A born storyteller, healthy and robust, gregarious. Career-wise, finding the right fit in established companies proved a little difficult so he became a self-employed insurance agent. He married Linda, his childhood pen pal – their mothers were friends and thought it would be nice if the two kids corresponded – 35 years ago, and they raised two daughters.

Fast forward to November 27, 2009. Marshall was continuing the yearly tradition of decorating the house with Christmas lights. It was the day after Thanksgiving, a balmy 70 degrees. “Linda offered to watch for me, but I said no,” Marshall said, “so she went inside to take a nap.” Though even had she been watching, the outcome likely would have been no different. Marshall climbed up the six-foot step ladder and onto the roof.

He strung the lights as always, across the front and up the sides of the gables, about a three-hour job. “Then I stepped back to admire my work,” Marshall said. That step turned into a skid from one part of the roof to the next, then another eight-foot drop to the ground. “I probably would have been okay if I had landed on my feet,” Marshall said, “but I landed on my butt.” He briefly lost consciousness, and when he realized he was on the ground, he attempted to move. “I started to get up, but I couldn’t move my legs,” he said.

He had fallen right outside the master bedroom window, so he thought he would call for Linda to help him. “I tried to take a breath, but I couldn’t,” Marshall said. With effort, he managed to take a series of about 12 quick puffs to build up enough capacity to yell for Linda. He was able to say her name before he lost consciousness again. Thankfully she heard him, came outside to see what he wanted, then called 911.

At the hospital, the news Marshall received wasn’t good. “My T12 vertebrae had exploded,” he said. “I had five shattered ribs, and the pieces of ribs had punctured both lungs.” Marshall credits the doctor, Doc Holiday he said his name was, with fusing several of the larger pieces so he would have that vertebrae again someday. He remained at the hospital for several weeks, heavily sedated, in part to keep him from pulling out any tubes or cause even more physical damage. He also dreamed. “In my dreams I could walk,” Marshall said, “and I could take care of people.” Because he was experiencing atrial fibrillation, irregular heartbeats, his heart was electronically started and stopped twice to alter its electrical system. Once that was under control, Marshall began to regain more consciousness.

On December 27 of that year, he was moved to another hospital that had a rehab program. The formerly fit man now had to deal with atrophied muscles, and limited to no movement in his arms, legs and hips. After 30 days there, he was released, and began a new program at the Rehabilitation Institute of Kansas City. “I was used to being quite strong and doing whatever I wanted,” Marshall said. “I went from lifting 240 pounds to one and three pounds.” He participated in a regimen of occupational, physical and speech therapy, starting three times a week and tapering to twice a week.

This is when he learned how a congregation can step forward to lend its support. “Norm Smith (a Holy Cross mission partner) organized a brigade of people,” Marshall said. “There were 12 or 15 from Holy Cross, they call themselves the Do-Nothings, who gave me rides.” Marshall said he also had some help from friends in the civic organizations he had been involved in, namely the Shawnee Kiwanis and the Shawnee Chamber of Commerce. “And then there’s Linda, let me tell you about Linda,” Marshall said, referring to his wife and her support when he was first injured. “Linda was there every day. The heartache she went through. She was terrified I was going to die.”

Since that fateful November day, Marshall has come a long way. He continues to use a wheelchair, but can pull himself to a standing position. His arms are strong again. His upper thighs are muscular. His target date is March, 2018 to have rebuilt his calves and ankles, and be able to flex his foot. That’s just how long it will take his damaged neural pathways to heal, one centimeter per month.

Too, he doesn’t need rides to get to the gym like he used to because now he can drive with hand controls. Here’s the routine: Wheelchair to the back of the van, pull himself up, fold up the lightweight chair that weighs 26 pounds, grab the walker from the back of the van, use it to get to the driver’s seat, hoist himself into the van, toss in the walker, and hit the road. Actually, a huge task that most of us take for granted.

But here’s the thing. Marshall has found a way to be positive. “I did a lot of praying,” he said. “God, why did you leave me here? You came so close to bringing me home.” Marshall received his answer. “He (God) wants me to encourage disabled people,” Marshall said. “I have met so many worse off than I. I rededicated myself. I still wish I hadn’t fallen off the roof, but I’ve had so many wonderful things happen, and have been able to help so many other people.” Therein lies an illustration of one’s man faith and trust.