An Excuse for Nothing, Motivation for Everything

 

 Never use my death as an excuse for anything, but motivation for everything.

Stefanie Spielman (1967-2009)

by  Charles Moncrief

Stefanie spoke these words to her family -- former Ohio State and NFL linebacker Chris Spielman, and their four children -- not long before she lost her battle with breast cancer. It may seem odd that I'd be writing about someone who died in November 2009. The reason the subject came up is that her husband’s book That’s Why I'm Here just came out. I'm not promoting Chris’ book, though I bought a copy and I'm scheming for ways to get Chris to sign it. (Keep in mind, Chris WAS a linebacker, so for me to back him into a corner will require finesse rather than strength!) I'll also get a second copy and push on him to autograph it as a raffle prize for the Dallas chapter of the Alumni Association. Proceeds benefit the scholarship fund.

 My wife is a survivor of breast cancer since 1998. We met Stefanie and Chris on one of their fundraising cruises in 2008, benefiting the James Cancer Center in Columbus. We were both impressed with their warmth as well as their endless energy. We were also deeply touched by Stefanie's compassion toward those going through this disease. At the survivor breakfast Stefanie talked for about 45 minutes and then opened the floor for comments. Several responded, all motivated to pay forward the encouragement they had received from Stefanie. Since we’re from Dallas, we could celebrate but not participate in this response. Nonetheless, we were inspired by Stefanie's words. And we were grieved by Stefanie’s closing comments, announcing that the cancer had come back. Something told my wife and me that Stefanie’s life would end soon, and our hearts sank the following year when the news came.  

Stefanie (left) and my wife Ruth 

 I could continue to tell stories of Stefanie’s heroics near the end of her life, and of Chris’ heroics before and since. But that would defeat my purpose. Everyone diagnosed with cancer starts out as a survivor, and everyone who has been through the affliction is a hero. That’s all I have to say on the subject.

 I want instead to address is the use of an adversity as an excuse, and the use of the adversity as motivation. The adversity may be a loved one’s pending or death, or the memory of a loss that has already occurred. The adversity may be a relationship about to end as a result of brokenness, or one that has already ended. The adversity may be our doctor’s pending diagnosis, or a diagnosis that we’re still trying to absorb.

 How we will respond to any adversity in our lives, whether as an excuse or as a motivation, is largely -- though not exclusively -- our choice to make. In more than one speech, Chris Spielman said he has much to do. Sometimes spoken, sometimes unspoken, Chris always acknowledges the absolutely essential part that those in his support base have played as he goes forward in his life. The value of those who walk alongside us in adversity is greater than gold.

Grace and Peace,
Charles+

 Let me add a postscript to this idea of walking alongside someone. I didn’t have to walk with my wife as she struggled through cancer and her life since then. Rather, I got to walk with her. It was one of the greatest privileges of my life.

Anglican Priest, Charles Moncrief, serves up the issues of the day on a platter mixed with scripture, seriousness, and a sense of humor to create a ministry founded in love for his fellow man.

“I’m an Anglican Priest, disguised as a geek during the week. It’s REALLY tough to change my costume, since phone booths are getting hard to find!” 

Dedicated to Those Who Still Have a Fighting Chance

By Lyn Twyman

It's been almost 11 years ago that I met a beautiful young man who was dying of cancer at the tender age of 18.  I had heard about his struggle with cancer in the local newspaper and new that someone needed to reach out to him and his family.  I was working a full time job then so I asked my preacher at the time if he would pay this young man a visit and he promised me he would.  After 2 or 3 weeks had gone by, I learned that my preacher had not kept his word and I became livid.  'Why am I giving this man my tithe money when he can't even get his ass in the car and visit someone who is sick as the rest of us are at work struggling to make a living?' I thought.  

I then made the decision to make the visit myself and I asked another church member, who knew the family of the young man, if she would go with me to visit them after I got off from work.  She agreed and in the cold and chill of December, we drove down an old, back country road to a white cottage in the darkness of the night out in the woods.  Once we arrived at the home, we were met by some of the friendliest of people, given the circumstances.  The new friend that I met that night, who I always call now my Charlie, was laying in the living room on his hospital bed, connected to a morphine pump as his source of pain relief and sustenance. 

What happened that night I have never forgotten as I watched this young man, who did not have much left to his frail being, wake from his sleep  and he began speaking to me, though he couldn't see me as the cancer had taken most of his sight.  We talked and I learned about his favorite instrument, his favorite sport, even his favorite flower.  I also prayed with him that night asking God to be by his side and Charlie received assurance that he would go to meet his Maker.  Minutes later, he drifted back to sleep but before he did, I gave him a red Bible. 

Charlie died three days later on December 26th and after speaking with his mother after the funeral had taken place, I learned that he was buried with the same Bible I had given him.  I also learned from his mother that the visit I had paid him gave him renewed strength that she had not seen from him in a while.   He was a more cheerful person in his last three days, making mention of me several times and wanting to know where his Bible was.  On Christmas day, after weeks of not eating because of the effects from the morphine, he awoke asking to get dressed and ate his last meal ever with his family.  I didn't know that the time I had left to reach him wasn't that long.  I didn't know that Charlie was on the verge of death the night we went to see him.  The local newspaper had minimized the state of his condition. 

Just like my angel, Charlie, whose life was claimed by a gruesome disease called cancer, there are many victims of domestic violence who are also on the verge of death.  If you and I don't get to them, don't talk to them, don't reach out to them soon, and just wait for other people and organizations to do the work when you and I are just as capable, then it just may be too late.  If we can save them or offer some kind of hope to help them move on and be empowered to take the next steps, then we've doing our job. 

I know my Charlie died, but he needed someone to come to him and give him some kind of hope as his fate was near.  For those who are being victimized by domestic violence, they still have a fighting chance, however, and that's the point I want to get across today. 

 So I challenge all of us who are fighting for the rights of victims of domestic violence, sexual assault to crime victimization, please remember that each person deserves the help and support.  It’s not too late. Each person deserves to be kept safe from their abuser and out of harm’s way with whatever it takes.  Judges, prosecutors, police officers and advocates reading this, ask yourselves are your departments doing all they can do to protect victims?  Politicians and legislators, are you passing laws to keep victims safe or what’s holding you back from making the right decisions to protect your citizens?  Is it that one little clause in a bill that needs to be modified that’s preventing you from voting on it?  If so, then for Heaven’s sake come to a compromise, get it changed and pass that bill!  And family, friends, co-workers, what’s keeping you from talking to the person you love or know about getting help as they are being abused? 

If all of us wait for the next guy to come around, just like the lazy preacher I once had, what we’re called to do by Divine Intervention, Providence or Karma will never happen.  So let’s take the time to make this coming holiday and new year a time to be more proactive in our fight for all of humanity.  There are some things we just know we must do that are right.  Someone needs you.  Don’t let anything hold you back.

~Dedicated to my Charlie.  Called home to be with his Maker December 26, 1999.~

"Thank My Lucky Scars"

By Susan Murphy-Milano



About a year ago I was on Facebook and one of those instant messages came up on the bottom of my screen. Rarely do I pay attention, for some unknown reason I hit the response button and typed "hello." The person at the other end of cyberspace was a man whom unknown to me at the time, literally, across the country, makes the journey with those in the final hours of their lives. He had a difficult time typing and asked if I would be alright with calling so we could talk on the phone. His voice sounded like a cross between singer Kris Kristofferson and Pastor Rick Warren, with the ease and wisdom that comes with being wiser beyond ones years. We laughed and talked for hours as though we were long lost friends.

Ward was born with multiple birth defects and very little chance of survival. After decades of surgery, years of taunting by classmates, constant ridicule because he was different and humiliation by the outside world most us would not survive, Ward Foley is a remarkable life force like nothing I have ever encountered. Nearly seven days a week Ward Foley begins his day by touching the lives of those whom are in their last hours of life, or visiting a children's hospital talking with a parent or child after a difficult surgery to correct a limb or remove a life threatening tumor. Other days he can be found making the rounds in the hospice wing of hospitals or at the home of a person preparing to die. No matter how he is feeling or what is aching in his own body he journeys out that door because people are counting on him. He remains at the side of those whose families are either non-existent or have already passed on. Ward runs errands, (well he says he does but I know he cannot run as he often jokes) when a patient has a request he finds a way to make certain it happens. Or, in his arms, using his body as a kind of cushion, he holds that precious life up close into his body, gently telling a corny story or talking with them until they take their last breath.

Sandy Kuhlman who is on the Board of Directors for the National Hospice & Palliative Care organization said " Ward has limitless wisdom, courage, warmth, and humor to share with those facing so many life's major transitions and hardships.

Ward found a "life peace" most of us only dream or read about. His body is covered with scars and he realized that each "scar" was the one thing in his life that brought him closer to the people and experiences that helped others make important transitions in their lives. He does not know the meaning of the word "can't," in fact it's banned from his vocabulary except when he is giving one of his witty speeches.

Ward Foley is also the author of the book "Thank My Lucky Stars" a book that once you read it you actually forget your own troubles. It is an amazingly inspiring book that will make you laugh (even when you don't feel like it) and for me that is a huge achievement. A portion of the proceeds are donated to Hospice. It's Ward's way of doing something indirectly for those he does not have the opportunity to meet or help with during end of life care. His previous book needs to be mentioned to let you know what kind of extraordinary man Ward Foley is. It's title is: "God Didn't Me Me A Woman Because I Had Enough Problems."

He uses what others might view as an obstacle, providing human compassion, hope, love and laughter, spreading his message of "I can do anything" and so "can you" taking his scars that he wears on the outside and somehow shows us the importance of removing those we carry with us on the inside.

Ward Foley is a blessing to so many-I am humbled to call him my friend!