Linda Henderson - battling her way through tragedy

Linda Henderson’s life was rolling along. She had a thriving business in the field of organizing with her son Erik working alongside, offered her spare time in ways that served others, mentored organizers just starting out in their profession. But it all came to a screeching halt when Erik tragically died.

 

Linda Henderson

There is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to working your way through grief, no step-by-step manual. Just the very fact of having to do so can in itself be overwhelming. It’s thrust on you, giving you no choice but to deal with it in some fashion. Just getting up in the morning might never be the same.

For Linda, it’s even more complicated because of the issues surrounding Erik’s life that eventually contributed to his death.

“Erik was always a bright, happy kid,” Linda said. “He was an honor student, an Eagle Scout, he played music in the church.” Then came his senior year in high school, and a complete change in his behavior. “He became depressed, withdrawn,” Linda said.

She and her husband knew something was wrong, but had no idea what it could be. Then Erik broke his foot and was given painkillers. Soon, he added a painkiller addiction to the other problems he was having. “He had a debilitating depression,” Linda said. “He made four suicide attempts.”

This behavior went on for a number of years, until finally Erik shared with his parents what was wrong. And that news brought a whole new kind of devastation for the family. Erik confided he had been sexually abused by the older son of family friends, church friends, from when he was 3 through age 7. The abuse had begun in Hawaii, where both families were stationed in the military, and continued when both were relocated to California. Linda said Erik told her it was like a tape that ran around in his brain in a continual loop, and he couldn’t escape it, the sights, sounds, smells. She tried to think back to that time, wondering how it was possible she didn’t know what was happening.

Studies by David Finkelhor, director of the Crimes Against Children Research Center, show that 1 in 5 girls and 1 in 20 boys is a victim of child sexual abuse. According to a 2003 National Institute of Justice report, 3 out of 4 adolescents who have been sexually assaulted were victimized by someone they knew well. Other statistics and researchers will tell you that abuse is widely under-reported or unreported, and that victims develop a wide range of social and emotional problems.

Linda and her husband, Marv, chose to share Erik’s story and bring charges against the perpetrator. But they quickly ran up against the statute of limitations, which had expired in Hawaii, and would expire in another six months or so in California. So they, with Erik, set about documenting all they could, hoping to bring enough proof that this horrible abuse had happened, and that it had in large part destroyed Erik’s life since.

On a day in late January, 2008, before they were able to get the case to court, Erik woke up one morning, not feeling well, Linda said. He was back living with his parents after losing his roommate, but was saving money to get his own place. Linda said she checked on Erik, who was sleeping, several times throughout the day, before deciding to leave to run an errand. When she returned, she again checked on Erik. But in those 20 minutes she was gone, Erik had passed away. He was 28 years old. Autopsy results would later reveal that he had combined alcohol with medication, and that served to suppress his system enough, which was already endangered by an enlarged heart, that he was unable to breathe after he had rolled over on his back.

“Losing Erik kind of changed everything in life,” Linda said. “I was very focused, and suddenly it was much harder to focus. My thoughts were all over the place.” Linda said she gave everything up for a while. It was all just too much. But eventually her experience kicked in, of working as a Hospice volunteer, of being a Stephen Minister, of mentoring others. “Being a Stephen Minister for so many years, I saw people give up and not move forward,” she said. “I wanted to move forward.”

For Linda, moving forward has meant becoming involved in Celebrate Recovery, restarting her business of residential and corporate organizing, but mostly, just putting one foot in front of the other, getting through each day. “It doesn’t get better,” she said. “It just gets different. You don’t feel normal anymore. I have become more reclusive.”

But Linda hasn’t let go of her faith. In fact, she said the saddest people she has ever talked with are the ones who are terrified of death because they don’t know God, or who don’t feel worthy enough that God would care about them. Linda said she has moments of happiness, but it’s not enough. “Pure joy, to experience pure joy,” she said, “that eludes me.” But as she explained, “You can’t change the past. You have to figure out how to move ahead. You have to hang onto God’s promise of eternal life.” Linda trusts that because of that promise, she will be reunited with Erik.

At the time of Erik’s death, he was a drummer in several local bands, took courses at Longview Community

Erik Henderson

College, and had plans to major in physics. But he hadn't had time yet to defeat the demons of abuse that plagued him. Sadly, the prosecutor tossed out Erik’s case, stating that upon his death, his testimony became hearsay. That’s especially painful, Linda said. She said she holds no hatred for the young man who abused Erik, because surely something awful happened to him to make him that way, though she is grieved to think that he has the chance to abuse others.

The Gospel reading from Erik’s memorial service is one that can be especially meaningful for those who are battling their way through grief and wanting to move forward. It’s from Matthew 11. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Scott Colliton - a doctor's compassion for children

Within minutes of beginning a conversation with Scott Colliton, his compassion for children becomes evident. He is a pediatrician at Children’s Mercy Hospital, specializing in children with special health care needs, and international adoption.

His choice of specialty came about for several reasons. “When I was in grade school, and up, I was very disappointed with kids who would tease other kids because they were 'different',” Scott said. “I would say to myself, that’s just not right.” He also is keenly aware of the stories of children in other countries who are living on the streets, or left to die. He described hearing about how at one orphanage, babies being dropped off are placed on something similar to a dumbwaiter. Then a bell is pressed and the dumbwaiter revolves so that someone on the inside of the orphanage can remove the infant. Scott is just glad to know that some children are rescued or adopted and have another chance. “It touches my heart knowing what could have been,” Scott said, “but feeling it was God’s grace that they were rescued and given the chance for a better life.”





Dr. Scott Colliton (center) with two sisters from Poland

  

Scott said he also had a love of medical science beginning when he was young, and still does today. “I am intrigued by patients with complicated problems,” he said. “What they go through every day. I have a very strong admiration for that.” Those elements combined - compassion for children and an interest in medical science, formed his career choice.

It’s a career that brings joy and heartbreak, problem solving, satisfaction and frustration, and at times enables Scott to form lifelong relationships with his patients and families. One such case was Erin, a 9-year-old Scott met while he was in training. It was a few days before Christmas, and Scott had to tell her parents that their daughter had leukemia. It was his first experience with having to tell someone such dreaded news. He and his wife left shortly thereafter to spend the holiday with family. “I couldn’t quit thinking about them,” Scott said of Erin’s family. “It was almost obsessive. I kept seeing their heartbroken faces when I gave them the news. It was not a fun holiday for me.”

But now, Erin’s story brings him joy. She made it through treatment, and since then graduated from high school, with Scott in attendance, and has gotten married. Scott said he still receives updates.

Because Scott sees so many children with chronic special health care needs, and thus in many instances a shortened life span, he also must deal with a lot of death. “This is always an emotional and painful experience,” Scott said. And he doesn’t mourn from a distance, but often attends their funerals.

The most painful part of his job, Scott said, is child abuse. When he sees a child with critical injuries, and often long-lasting debilitating injuries, from, for example, being shaken, it rocks him to his core. “How such innocent vibrant children can have their lives changed in essentially just a minute is devastating,” Scott said. He carries a special kind of pain for those children who would have been healthy were it not for someone who physically harmed them.

Thankfully, Scott also handles well-baby visits, and follow-up care for healthy children. “The kids who are not as sick counter-balance the kids who are sick,” he said. He also helps several times a month at the international adoption clinic. In fact, Scott and his wife have a daughter of their own, adopted from Bolivia, who is now 11.

Scott said he can’t help forming relationships with his patients. Many of them he sees weekly, sometimes for troubleshooting, because with chronic illness you can also have more instances of seizures and infections, things that require more visits to the doctor. It brings him joy to see the children he has cared for grow into adolescents, and adults. He has one patient, a girl named Kayla, who he has seen since birth, and who is now 22. Kayla has cerebral palsy, and is in a wheelchair. Scott’s care and concern for Kayla meant enough to her mother that she suggested Scott’s name for a segment of Pay it Forward on the local television station Fox 4.

The episode aired in early June. Scott said he had no idea this was coming. “When I arrived at the clinic,” he said, “a nurse told me a family was waiting for me. I opened the door and walked in and there’s a camera.” Kayla’s mom wanted to honor Scott for his dedication and patience in caring for her daughter, by paying the kindness forward with a gift of $300. Scott said that off-camera, he gave the money back, but still he was touched. To see the episode, follow this link: http://fox4kc.com/2013/06/03/mom-thanks-awesome-doctor-who-shows-kindness-to-special-needs-daughter/

 

Bronze statue in cemetery



All of his work, the hope it brings even among death, can be summed up in the image of a 9-year-old boy’s grave site he and his wife saw in the western United States. “We both froze and became silent with tears streaming down our cheeks,” Scott said. “It was a statue, obviously for a special needs kid. He was stepping out of his wheelchair, and reaching toward the heavens. And my thought when I saw this was that he was saying, ‘Thank you Lord for freeing me of my illness and letting me come to you.’”

A teenager's story of life, death and hope

Here’s a story about a girl I knew briefly, and who has been on my mind this week. She lived at the intersection of faith and life.

The first time I saw a teenager I’ll call Roxie, she was curled up in a bed at Children’s Mercy Hospital, crying in pain, as her mother sat helplessly by her side.

The next time I saw Roxie was at her house about a year later. She was twirling a pretty black dress in front of me, the dress she planned to wear to her senior prom. Then she showed me the pair of sneakers she was going to wear with the dress. Roxie wasn’t making a fashion statement. She was making a cancer statement. Cancer surgery had left behind a long jagged scar the length of her leg. The cancer that continued to lurk in her bones made it difficult to walk at times, and impossible to walk in a pair of stylish high heels.

Nevertheless, this was going to be her night. A boy she called her best friend, who planned to continue sticking by her as she battled a killer, was her date. She hoped to dance at least one dance with him, and maybe even mingle with a few of her classmates. Roxie said that she had missed so much school the past couple of years that she had lost touch with classmates. Not just in a physical sense, but in an emotional sense. Roxie said it was hard to relate with her peers whose interests centered on what makeup to wear, what shoes to buy, how to style their hair, with which purse to accessorize.

Her priorities had been drastically and forcefully rearranged with the diagnosis of bone cancer. Her main concern, she said, was how her mother and brother would fare, if she were to die today, tomorrow, next year. The family had already been through a tragedy when her father died suddenly a few years prior. Roxie was concerned that they would completely fall apart if she were to lose her battle with cancer. Her other concern was for the upcoming summer. She really wanted to go to camp again, the camp for children with cancer, not as a camper but as a counselor. She wanted to give back some of the joy she had received from her past experiences at the camp. But while she was planning her immediate future, she was also planning her funeral.

Roxie had a strong faith. She said that’s what got her through the bad days, and it’s what she focused on when she had good days. She gave the teacher who taught sick kids at the hospital a hand-printed banner that said, “Courage is the art of being the only one to know you’re scared to death.”

My faith was somewhat tenuous at that time. I touched base with God on Sundays, even taught Sunday School. But I didn’t necessarily live my faith. Still, I prayed on Roxie’s behalf. I told God that this was a girl who could be a strong witness for him, were she to live. I pleaded for her, and for her family. And I felt a sense of peace as I prayed.

Then Roxie died. Her death left me with a lot of mixed emotions. Why did someone so young, and with such a strong faith, have to die? How would her brother and mother be able to deal with this pain? Why is life so horribly unfair?

I was also confused about the sense of peace I had felt, thinking it meant that Roxie would survive. She could have touched so many lives, and taught others about God, had she only had the chance, couldn’t she? Wasn’t that worth a miracle?

And yet, maybe even today Roxie is touching lives, witnessing for God. Maybe each time I or someone else tells her story, at least one more heart is touched with the love that is God. Therein lies hope. And while I will never understand tragic death, I know that we can eventually move through tragedy into light. Maybe I'll get a little more understanding when I meet next week with a woman whose son died. She said she has something about hope to share. And I'll in turn share her story in this space.

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.”