Marjorie Dillon - Barbecue judge extraordinaire!

Offer a new summer sermon series with the theme of barbecue and what happens the first week? You discover you have a certified barbecue judge in the congregation. Marjorie Dillon, who would have thought.

This marks her third year as a judge in barbecue contests. She is not just a judge but a certified judge, and only four contests away from being a master judge. That means to date, Marjorie has judged 26 contests, and cooked in one. And that translates roughly into something like more than 700 big bites of chicken, pork, beef brisket and pork ribs. And lots of frozen leftovers.

 

Marjorie Dillon



“Other than all the barbecue, I’m mostly a vegetarian,” Marjorie said.

Marjorie got her start in judging when she signed up on the Lenexa city website to judge the Lenexa Chili Challenge. “It sounded like fun,” she said, “and I like chili.” A fellow judge suggested that she try becoming a barbecue judge, and well, that sounded like fun too, so Marjorie decided to give it a shot.

She took a class through the Kansas City Barbecue Society, where she learned the history of KCBS, and the hows and whys and wherefores of judging. There’s an actual oath that judges must swear to at the beginning of each contest, with right hand raised, and it goes like this: “I do solemnly swear to objectively and subjectively evaluate each Barbeque meat that is presented to my eyes, my nose, my hands and my palate. I accept my duty to be an Official KCBS Certified Judge, so that truth, justice, excellence in Barbeque and the American Way of Life may be strengthened and preserved forever.” This is serious stuff.

At a sanctioned contest, there are six judges per table. Judging criteria are taste, appearance and texture, with appearance being completed first. Marjorie said she usually judges appearance fairly strictly, even though it’s only a small percentage of points. Once the judges have seen the entry, laid out in a standard white Styrofoam box, they each take a portion to place on their plate. There is to be absolutely no finger-licking during this transfer, according to the KCBS rules, though paper towels or unscented wipes are allowed.

The rating scale is from 9 (excellent) to 2 (inedible.) If you get a number 1, that means disqualification. “For example, if the meat is undercooked, and you can tell it’s blood rather than juice,” Marjorie said, “then it’s disqualified.” Another example, she explained, would be if a judge takes his or her portion but it hasn’t been sliced properly and is still stuck to another portion. And yet another, if the cook takes more than the allowed eight minutes to turn in his or her meat.

Each judge eats six samples of each of the four categories. “Sometimes there’s a fifth category,” Marjorie said. “It could be chili or dessert or both. Or salmon.” It could also be something like snake. “One judge did have rattlesnake once,” Marjorie said, “and he said it tasted just like rabbit.” Marjorie was more than happy to take his word for it. She added that between each sample, she eats a bite of parsley, because that cleanses her palate the best.

Prizes are usually monetary, though not always. “I judged one contest in Mesa, Arizona,” Marjorie said. “The grand prize was a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The second-place prize was a smoker.” As for the judges, their prize is to take home the leftovers of the portions they judged. “It takes us a while to eat it all,” she said, referring to her and her husband, Ron, “especially over the summer when there are more contests.” Ron is always a sport about helping with the leftovers, Marjorie said, except for chicken, of which he’s not particularly fond.

Marjorie’s first judging contest, and also her favorite contest, is the Shawnee Great Grillers Blues and Barbeque State Championship, held in late September each year. “The barbecue is usually really good at that one,” she said, “because by then the cooks have it figured out.” She said she’s never judged a really bad contest, though has had to work her way through some meats where the sauce was too salty or bitter, or the texture was off, or the meat wasn’t readily identifiable.

She encourages anyone with an interest in barbecue contests to give it a try. Marjorie said that for her, the car trips through Kansas and Missouri to reach a contest's location are particularly nice because of the beautiful scenery. Also, she enjoys meeting a variety of people.

Marjorie said she'll continue to judge as long as she's able. She has judged fewer contests these past few weeks because of a granddaughter's wedding. And on the gift list? A barbecue grill, which of course Marjorie and Ron are happily supplying. "I'm thinking about including a note," Marjorie said, "that says, 'When you get good at this, we'll come over and have barbecue with you.'" Now that sounds like a challenge!

Greg Wayne - building hope

Look around the metro area for homes that have newly constructed wheelchair ramps, and chances are Greg Wayne will have had a hand in building them.



Greg Wayne (wearing cap) and Kevin Bogner



Greg is one of the founders of HopeBUILDERS, an organization whose mission is to help people in the Kansas City metro area live in comfort, safety and dignity. Formerly called FaithBUILDERS, the group got its start when Greg’s wife, Kathie, and the vestry of St. Francis Episcopal Church where they attended at the time thought it would be great to combine volunteer forces to do some type of home repairs, Greg said. That was in 2000, and he was called to help organize the effort. Besides St. Francis, five other churches participated – Advent Lutheran, Stilwell First Baptist, Stilwell Methodist, St. Michael’s Episcopal and St. Thomas Episcopal. Holy Cross Lutheran got involved several years later.

Greg said word was spread about the organization mainly through churches - by hosting tables at ministry fairs, speaking at worship services and including info in weekly worship bulletins. That first year, Greg said, they helped one client by participating in a major repair project organized through Christmas in October. Currently, they help nearly 40 clients each year, though they receive  about 130 requests. But since most of the 180 volunteer workers hold daytime jobs, they are only available to help a couple of weekends a month, with about one-third active at any given time.

Clients call HopeBUILDERS for a variety of reasons. “We get calls from women who become widows, and are wanting to stay in their houses,” Greg said. “There was one woman whose husband died of a heart attack, she was living by herself, and was in a wheelchair. She hadn’t had a bath or shower because she couldn’t access her bathroom.” Greg described another client as a single mom with two children. She had closed her kitchen off because of the damage done by the upstairs bathroom ongoing plumbing problems. 

HopeBUILDERS primarily helps clients who are elderly, have limited financial resources, or have a physically disabled family member. A majority of the organization’s efforts include building wheelchair ramps, Greg said, mainly because the jobs can be done relatively quickly and don’t require extensive construction skills. Other requests are for doors that need to be widened, rooms needing to be made accessible for those who suddenly find themselves with limited or no mobility, and other interior repairs.



From left: Steve Hileman, three clients, Greg Wayne, Kevin Dolan



Most clients are deeply appreciative of HopeBUILDERS volunteers, Greg said. Then there are the ones who approach the organization with a sense of entitlement, making demands, being rude, though thankfully they are few in number. But either way, it’s the sheer amount of need that is out there. “You almost get to the point where you’re torn by what to do,” Greg said. “It can be overwhelming.”

It was Greg’s involvement with HopeBUILDERS that brought him to Holy Cross. He said he had worked alongside and become friends with a number of volunteers from Holy Cross, so when it was time to find a different congregation, he was drawn here. Greg’s daytime job is project manager with Black & Veatch, and requires a great deal of international travel, especially to China. When not traveling or volunteering weekends with HopeBUILDERS, he tries to keep up with projects at his own home, which he describes as “a work in progress.” He said he has always enjoyed construction, and through the years has developed a level of expertise that allows him to share that knowledge with others.

For Greg, it all comes down to a calling. “I am using the gifts God has given me,” he said. “There are a lot of people in need, and I can help them stay in their houses a bit longer.”

HopeBUILDERS is always looking for more volunteer helpers of all skill levels, including those who simply want to hand nails to the person with the hammer or provide lunch for the workers. In addition, anyone wishing to provide materials or financial assistance is always welcome. For more information about HopeBUILDERS, visit the website at http://hopebuilders-kc.org.

Jon Lindquist - living his dream

Jon Lindquist wanted to be a police officer from the time he was in sixth grade. His uncle’s stories of police work had whetted his appetite to catch the bad guys and help other people. He was determined to follow that dream, so he got his degree in accounting and…

What’s accounting got to do with it, you may be wondering? Jon said it was his father’s wish that he get a degree he could fall back on if necessary. So he became the first in his family to get a college degree and said it was the best advice he could have followed.

After hearing an FBI agent speak about white collar crime, and learning the federal agency uses accountants to help with that, he decided to apply. But then he learned that the FBI prefers accountants with experience, something he didn’t have yet. Plan B - he thought he would apply at the Tulsa police department, where he lived at the time, only to find there was a hiring freeze.

So, Jon became an accountant, got married and spent the next few years pushing the proverbial pencil.

“Then one day, I was sitting at my desk, looking out the window, and saw a Tulsa police officer make a stop,” Jon said. “And I thought, I’m going to follow my dream.”

At that time, his wife, Alison, got offered a teaching job in Kansas City. And that’s when Jon got in a serious conversation with God. Do I change careers with the move or do I stay in accounting, Jon asked.

“And I felt that he steered me,” Jon said. “Like telling me this is the time. I felt relaxed. And then everything fell into place.”

Jon applied at several departments, and within three months of moving to this area, he was offered a job with the Lenexa police department. That year, he was one of only two hired out of 300 applicants.  He went through training at the police academy, and then hit the streets as a patrolman.

One of his first calls brought him face to face with human tragedy. While patrolling, he received a notice of gunshots fired. Since he was nearby, he headed to the location, saw people in the driveway, someone on the ground, and with gun in hand, approached to ask what was happening. Sadly, a young man had shot himself in the head, and his parents were begging for help, needing an ambulance, trying to keep their son alive. Those moments waiting for help can seem interminable. All Jon could do was try to keep the parents calm and wait with them for help to arrive. It would be later that he would try to process seeing his first gun-shot victim.

A few years and hundreds of calls later, Jon and Alison had a son, Zach, but the baby was born with a serious heart defect. Zach had surgery when he was a week old, and that whole first year was touch and go, worrying about every little sound, every different breath, Jon said. He took some time off just to cope. Shortly after he returned to patrol duty, Jon said, he realized the effect his son’s precarious health had on him.

“One of my first calls after I returned was a medical call, a 12 or 13-year-old boy with sickle cell anemia,” Jon said. “It’s a painful disease. He was crying and screaming in pain. When I got back in my car, I had to sit there for a few minutes. It pierced me.”

Thankfully, calls like that were balanced with calls that ended happily. A gentleman who was out walking because he was trying to improve his health after having several heart attacks had fallen, Jon said. He was unconscious but breathing when Jon arrived on scene. Jon realized that the man’s dentures had come loose and were blocking his air flow. So he removed the dentures from the man’s mouth, and then the paramedics arrived to take over. That gentleman survived, and made sure those who had helped him that day were thanked. That’s a good feeling, Jon said.

After some years on patrol, catching “bad guys” and helping people in a variety of situations, Jon became a school resource officer. He said he found he loved working with kids. It was a great joy for him to earn their trust so they felt safe talking to him, asking questions, seeking his help about handling various situations.

Jon recalled a fifth-grade boy he met, who was reported to be bullying and intimidating other kids. Jon sat in a room with the boy and his counselor, explaining to the youth how he was being perceived, trying to make him understand that making kids afraid of you is not the way to make them like you. Then Jon noticed that the boy had a lanyard with keys around his neck, and the lanyard carried the letters, WWJD, an acronym for “What Would Jesus Do?” When Jon saw that, he asked the boy if he believed in what he was wearing around his neck. The boy said he did, so Jon said to him, “What would Jesus do in your situation?” When he asked this, Jon said, “It was like an ‘aha’ moment.” The happy ending is that some time later, the counselor sought out Jon to tell him that his talk with the boy had turned him around and now the boy was like a different person. Another good feeling, Jon said.

When Jon turned 50, he had some health issues and started thinking about retiring. The police department wanted him to stay, but Jon wasn’t sure what to do. He was at a crossroads, so he started praying about it. He was out jogging one morning, he said, when another jogger came running up behind them. Jon wasn’t going to make eye contact, because in police work you learn that sometimes that brings trouble.



Jon Lindquist



But the jogger came along next to him, and Jon said he heard him say, “You’re doing this for your family. You’re doing this for yourself. Keep up the good work.” Jon said he thought, who is this and why is he invading my thoughts? But then Jon decided that this stranger, who said those words and took off, was an angel with a message for him. And when Jon discerned that message was that he should retire, he said, he felt a sense of peace. His health improved and his blood pressure returned to normal when it had been running high.

As many know, retirement doesn’t really mean retirement. Within a few months, Jon was offered a position as a Blue Valley School District Campus Police Officer. “I started thinking, well, I guess I’m not done helping kids yet,” Jon said.



He took the job, and is once again doing something he loves, and that is combining police work, mainly crime prevention, with helping kids. And, he has two kids of his own. His son Zach is now 22, and his daughter, Sara, is 19. Jon plays softball for fun.

Upon reflecting, Jon said, “It feels good to have realized my dream. I feel like I accomplished what I wanted. And I can use my experience to help others.”   

Mark Reiter - learning about life

Mark Reiter used to play covers by Van Halen and Hank Williams Jr. for a living. That was when he had what he wanted and knew where he was headed. He married his childhood sweetheart, and they had three children – two boys and a girl. He turned in his guitar for a respectable career. He went to church occasionally and all was well.

Then his marriage hit what he considered a rocky time that would eventually right itself. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a divorce that he had never seen coming.

“It was an extraordinarily traumatic event,” Mark said. “I was extremely depressed.”

Mark didn’t know what to do or how to cope, and if it weren’t for the faith he had grown up with, this could be a far different story. He chose to talk to his pastor, and to come to worship on Sunday morning.

“I came helpless,” Mark said. “I was emotionally naked. People had told me that the time will come in life when you can’t fix it, you can’t hold on to it.” That time had come for Mark. All he could do was cry out for help, but he directed his pleas to God.

During this time, Mark found joy in his children, and he is admittedly nuts about them. And he continued to come to worship. Eventually he realized he didn’t feel so alone, and even though few people at Holy Cross knew his story, they inadvertently lifted him up in ways that helped.



Mark Reiter

Little did Mark know that his days as a pew sitter were quickly coming to an end. He mentioned on Facebook that he had a guitar, Pastor Mike picked right up on that, and then on Thanksgiving Eve came the call from Anthony Badell, our Contemporary Worship Coordinator, asking Mark if he could play in the band that weekend.

Yikes! Mark hadn’t picked up his electric guitar in 25 years, and the last stuff he played was covers of Huey Lewis and the News, the Judds, Ronnie Milsap. He was more comfortable playing mountain music by Alabama than anything that mentioned God.

“I asked Anthony what I could do to prepare, and he told me to start with listening to K-Love,” Mark said, referring to the Christian radio station. “I had never listened to that before. I thought it was for Bible-toting, certified whacko Jesus freaks.”

Mark wanted to say no, there was no way he could or would play. But the no turned to yes as the words came out of his mouth, so he dusted off his guitar, replaced the rusted strings, and started practicing. It was time to pay his dues, to be that 10^th leper who goes back to say thanks.

“I kept saying to myself that God’ll come knocking,” Mark said, “after I had been crying and begging so long for help.” The thing is, Mark said, you have to be ready to listen, and then you have to be ready to follow.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Mark suffers from something akin to stage fright. Though he now plays two to three times a month with the praise band, he doubts himself each time he picks up his guitar, worrying that he’s not good enough, that he’ll forget something, that he’ll mess up.

Even so, playing praise music has become his passion, he said. And he wants to share that with everyone. “I want people to be joyous, to enjoy worship, to want to come each week,” he said. “It’s not a performance. It’s a time of worship. I want to make sure everyone is worshiping.”

Mark has come a long way these past two years. He used to be the guy who said, “What’s with all this brokenness stuff? Get a life.” It took his own brokenness for him to realize just what that means. He now has a life, completely different from the life he had envisioned, but in so many ways that much richer, and so much more blessed.

Craig Hauser - Celebrating Recovery

Craig Hauser, a female, and yes, she’s heard all the jokes about her name, is one of those people who smiles a lot and always seems to be happy. You would never know that a dozen years ago, she nearly destroyed her life with excessive drinking.

At Holy Cross, she is known as the face and coordinator for a local group of Celebrate Recovery. CR is a 12-step, Christ-centered ministry that launched 20 years ago at Saddleback Church in California. It uses eight principles based on the Beatitudes, and is designed to help people with a wide range of hurts, habits and hang-ups.

Hauser said the CR group at Holy Cross will begin its sixth year in September. While everything discussed and shared among the participants is strictly confidential, Hauser said that some of the issues that people need help with include alcoholism, drug abuse, co-dependency, pornography, eating disorders, grief, financial matters and gambling.


Craig Hauser



“We had no idea what to expect for the first meeting,” Hauser said. “Two people came. And I realized it’s not the number who come but if you can help someone that matters.” Now, about 15-18 people meet on a weekly basis.

Hauser’s personal struggles began when she was 50. “I was a late bloomer,” she said. “I had problems I couldn’t talk about, and alcohol gave me a nice, numbing effect.”

But soon, a couple of dinner drinks became four, and then came drinks during the day, until finally Hauser found herself reaching for alcohol as early as 9 a.m. She drank steadily for a couple of years, assuming she didn’t have a problem because, as she explained, “What is that limit, the one drink that takes you over the edge?”

So she continued drinking, and over the next two years, her dependency on alcohol became all too obvious. Her hands were shaking, she was filled with self-loathing for what she had become, her health was in decline. “I knew I’d crossed the line,” she said. “But all I could say was, I give up. I can’t do it. I don’t care.” Her husband encouraged her to go to Alcoholics Anonymous, which she did. But the AA meetings didn’t fill the hunger that had begun to consume her. Still, she managed to reach a point where she quit drinking for 30 days. But that turned out to be the calm before the storm.

Whatever demons she was fighting compelled her to walk into a liquor store one fateful day to buy wine. Interestingly, the clerk said, “Craig, are you sure you want to do this?” Hauser’s first thought was to wonder how he knew her name. Then she realized he was in her AA group. But she chose to ignore the meaning behind his question, and left the liquor store, wine in hand.

She describes the next six days as a living hell. “It was just a blur,” she said. “I stayed on the couch. I missed my son’s 16^th birthday. I had no desire, no nothing.”

Then came the seventh day, when she suddenly and inexplicably asked her husband to take her to rehab. She spent the next 30 days there, talking, healing, and eventually walking out the door as a newly sober person.

If you see divine intervention in her story, you’re not alone. “I had nothing to do with saving myself,” Hauser said. “That was God. God picked me up. He saved me. And he didn’t save me just to say, ‘You’re okay, go do your own thing.’ He wanted me to do something for other people.”

That something turned out to be helping others through Celebrate Recovery. Hauser said she has respect for the AA program, but for her, it wasn’t enough. “I knew something was missing,” she said. “And that something was Christ.”

Hauser, the woman who would never talk about her problems before, is more than willing to share her story now. And here’s what she wants others to know: “There are miracles in life, in healing, in situations,” she said. “Problems can be addressed. It’s not hopeless.”

For Hauser, that sign of hope was delivered in a beautiful, personal way. She was in a car with her son, who was then 19, when out of the blue he reached over and patted her hand. “I forgive you,” he said.

If you’re reading this story and you are struggling, or at a point where you feel lost, don’t hesitate to seek help. If you’d like more information about Celebrate Recovery, visit the website at www.celebraterecovery.com. Or drop in at 7 p.m. any Tuesday evening at Holy Cross to see what the group is all about.

Randy Sims - A Boston Marathon Perspective

Randy Sims runs regularly, though generally not in races, except 5Ks with his 11-year-old daughter to give her encouragement. He has only run one marathon. So the path that took him to Boston on April 15 was a bit more circuitous.

 

Randy and Dina - the Boston 5K



He was there to support his girlfriend, Dina, who is active in our local running community. Sims said her favorite is the Boston Marathon, which she has run about a half dozen times. He described how Boston residents and businesses come together for the weekend in support of the marathon – the air of anticipation and excitement as visitors pour in, how spectators line up everywhere to cheer their favorite runners.



“The whole city participates,” Sims said. “I can see why it’s Dina’s favorite. It’s fun, joyous.”

Sims said that he and Dina ran the Boston 5K the day before the marathon. But the big day, Monday, April 15, he took a place in the spectator stands near the finish line.

 

It was mid-afternoon, 2:49 p.m. EDT, and he expected Dina, who was in the third wave, to come by any moment. Sims said the weather was perfect, and everyone was clapping and cheering as the steady stream of runners came by him on Boylston Street. He remembers thinking that he would like to be there again. As he watched, he heard a loud explosion and saw smoke across the street.

“I saw the explosion, glass shattering,” Sims said, “and I knew immediately what it was.” Or at least what he thought it was. “I thought some kids had lit off fireworks, and something had gone wrong.”

But about 13 seconds after the first explosion, as he was trying to process what was happening, a second explosion shook the ground.

Those first moments following any sort of disaster are chaotic, as people try to understand what is happening and how to respond. There’s a lack of information, then misinformation, and more questions than answers. Sims’ main concern was trying to contact Dina, who because she was in the race, didn’t have a cell phone.

Sims said no one was rushing to get out of the stands, and since there was only one entry and exit, it wouldn’t have helped. But it was only minutes before security began ushering him and the other spectators away. That’s when he started seeing some of the victims.



“There was a man sitting up in a wheelchair, he was conscious,” Sims said. “But his legs, they were bloody stumps. That’s the first time I realized how bad it was.”

Searching for Dina, Sims made his way to the Family Meeting area, then the medical area, then eventually found Dina’s bus and discovered her backpack was still on the bus, meaning she hadn’t picked it up yet. At the same time, he started receiving and sending texts to family and friends who knew he was there, and wanted reassurance that he was okay. Thankfully, he was able to get word about Dina after about 45 minutes. She, with the other runners, had been diverted by police from the finish line, and was in a nearby bar.

Sims said he initially didn’t want to talk about the experience, because there was too much to think through. “I kept playing it in my mind over and over again,” he said. “I didn’t want to talk to anybody about it for a while.”

He said he has been in an accident, tornado, and natural disaster, but this was different. “It was more personal,” he said. “It was a planned attack. You literally watch it happen in front of you, and it doesn’t make sense.”

 

Randy Sims loading hay bales
to be sent to Moore, Oklahoma.



He is also trying to keep it in perspective. He realizes it was a tragic event. After all, it killed three people and injured more than 260. Yet he is also aware that there are people in certain parts of the world who live with this sort of death and destruction on a daily basis. Too, Sims is trying to understand something that can really never be understood – how do some people get so misguided that they think bombing innocent people seems like the right thing to do.



 Sims spent some time recently loading hay bales that were being sent as part of a relief effort to Moore, Oklahoma, an area devastated by a tornado. He is a firm believer in giving back, and was before the Boston Marathon bombings. He explained that at the Boston Marathon, his original plan was to watch the race from the Starbucks patio, about 15 feet from where the second bomb went off. But it's futile to ponder the what ifs in life, he said. "Life is full of a lot of ‘what ifs’. I think we should learn from the past, but never dwell on the past or the ‘what ifs’, but instead work on the present and future, focusing on being a servant to others in need.”

He also still runs. As for Boston, he said he plans to return next year.

Janet Huber - Yoga, a Way of Life

Thirteen years ago, Janet Huber was in a bad place mentally and physically. She suffered from depression and was in poor physical health, overweight and dealing with fibromyalgia and other issues. Then a doctor’s recommendation to try yoga literally changed the course of her life.

“I was depressed, and didn’t even realize it was getting worse,” Huber said. “The doctor asked me, ‘What do you do for physical activity?’ I said I work, I’m a mother, I keep busy.”

But while talking with the doctor, she realized her activity was sporadic at best, and it was time to try doing something for herself that would offer some healthy benefits too. So she went to a basic yoga class.

Janet Huber

 “It had a profound effect,” Huber said. “I never enjoyed physical activity, but I enjoyed this. At the end of class, I commented that this hour went super fast, then realized that it had been 90 minutes. I had a feeling of calmness I had never experienced. It affected me mentally, physical and spiritually.”

Huber became a regular at the yoga classes, trying never to miss. Many times, she would be aching at the start of class, but always felt better by the end. Though she would generally be sore later and take aspirin, she found that overall she experienced less pain than if she didn’t take the class at all.

Over the next few years, she continued to think of herself as a student. She said she figured she was kind of old and far less than perfect to consider herself as anything more. But as yoga became a personal journey for her, she found she wanted to learn more. Eventually, she began the 200 hours of training to become a certified instructor, spending one full weekend a month studying, journaling, doing homework and leading classes under a tutor. She earned her certification last November.

Now, Huber teaches a weekly yoga class to cancer patients through Gilda’s Club, a free, support community for people impacted by cancer. “Their lives are in turmoil,” she said of the class participants. “This gives them a time to think about ‘me,’ not cancer. We spend a lot of time talking and laughing. It lets them live in the present moment.”

Living in the present moment is one of the benefits Huber herself as experienced, she said. “When you live in the past, or in the future,” she said, “you are either rehashing or worrying. You’re missing out on living in the present moment.”

 


Several class participants at Holy Cross
Instructor Janet Huber is second from left.

Huber teaches basic Hatha yoga, which she described as more deliberate movement, where breathing is linked with the poses, and each student can work at his or her own pace and comfort level. Besides the Gilda’s Club class, she has led a twice monthly class at Holy Cross, though is taking a break until the fall. She also leads her great nephew, who has cerebral palsy, through weekly yoga stretches, and does chair yoga with her 92-year-old mother. Besides teaching, Huber continues to take a regular class as a student.

 

Through yoga, Huber is better able to manage her fibromyalgia and her depression. She feels the meditative practice has also made her more spiritual.

“I’ve always been a faithful person,” she said. “Yoga for anyone is a supportive addition. It helps you become deeper in your faith, and physically and mentally healthy.”

Huber said it’s an honor for her to be able to teach. She hopes her students get as much out of the class as she herself does, and that they become wiser and happier as a result.