The Dialysis Chair by Pastor Welty

In 2014, Stephanie and I were presented with two treatment options to deal with her renal failure.  After we chose home hemo-dialysis,  there were some adjustments we had to make to our home to accommodate this new therapy.  We had to create space for the supplies, choose a venue for the treatment, adapt our plumbing, and purchase a new recliner because Stephanie’s treatment would last about 4 hours 5 times a week, so it was important for her to be comfortable.  We purchased an inexpensive “pleather” recliner from Walmart and had it delivered.  It had to have an impervious surface due to the nature of the treatment.   

After Stephanie passed away, the dialysis equipment and supplies were quickly removed, and I even retrofitted the plumbing in my bathroom, but  the recliner remained in my bedroom.  It became sort of a catch all in my room.  It held the superfluous pillows that once were carefully placed on our bed each day and the casually removed at night, so we could go to bed.  It also held the “throws” or smaller blankets that Steph liked to have cover her during treatment.  And it held the various items of clothing whose future I was trying to determine: laundry or one more wear.  (Hey, I’m a bachelor now – new laundry rules apply.) 

My daughters would come home and see that the recliner was still in my room and would gently challenge me about it.  Finally on Father’s Day weekend, they got a somewhat firmer with me, asking if I liked the recliner, was attached to it or saw a future for it in my house.  I had to answer “no” to all of their inquiries.  For them the recliner was associated with Stephanie’s illness, and its presence bothered them. 

Out of deference to them I took the chair outside and put it near the curb with a sign that read “FREE”.  Within a couple of hours that recliner found a new home, and my home was free of the last vestige of Stephanie's illness.  It was good to have that chair gone from my house, and I admitted to my daughters that they were right.  They have a greater sensitivity to space and objects than I do.  It surprised me how much better the room felt without that recliner.  It was as if I said my final goodbye to Stephanie’s illness.   

In Ephesians 4:22-24 we read:  You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires;  to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.  

There was nothing intrinsically bad about the recliner.  It was a necessary part of my caring for Stephanie, but it represented a difficult chapter in my life, and in order for me to enter my new life, I needed to get rid of it.  In our spiritual lives, there are certain things that are detrimental to our growth, and it's important to eliminate them from our lives.  We can all identify what those things are, but as long as we hold on to them, we’ll never be able to move on.   

Hebrews 12:1 instructs us to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles”, (so we can) “run with perseverance the race marked out for us”.   I threw off that old recliner, so I could move forward in my healing journey, and it helped.   What in your life do you need to throw off, so you can make progress in your spiritual journey?   It’s a good question to regularly ponder and act on.

"Say It Ain't So" by Pastor Welty

In Matthew 16, Jesus explained to his disciples about what was ahead for them.   He explained that he would go to Jerusalem, suffer many things, be killed and three days later be raised to life.  That is a lot to swallow, and Peter refused to swallow it.  Peter actually rebuked Jesus saying:  “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” 

When Peter heard Jesus' ominous words, he was like the legendary little boy who heard that Joe Jackson admitted that he took bribes to throw the 1919 World Series and pleaded,  "Say it ain't so Joe. Say it ain't so".  Peter didn't plead "Say it ain't so Jesus", but rather declared, "Never, this won't happen".   At that, Jesus said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.” 

Jesus' strong reaction makes me wonder if Peter's words presented a temptation to him like the temptations that Satan had presented in the wilderness.   We know from the Garden of Gethsemane that Jesus grappled with submitting to the cross but finally surrendered.  Out of desperation, Peter's words, while strong, were likely a plea to Jesus to somehow avoid the cross.  After all he and his friends were enjoying following Jesus, hearing him teach, seeing him touch people's lives and work miracles.  These men had probably never felt more alive than when they were with Jesus.  When Jesus said it was going to end, Peter reacted strongly, and Jesus responded to Peter's reaction with equal strength, indicating that the way of the cross was the path He had to follow, and perhaps Peter's pronouncement was seen as a temptation to avoid the cross. 

Sometimes when we are confronted with a difficulty which we know God could alleviate, we want to assert our will in the situation like Peter did, but we may be missing God's will in the big picture.  It's good for us to express our desire to God, our wish that he would intervene, but we must also acknowledge His sovereignty and that His ways are clearly beyond our ways. 

When Stephanie first got sick in 2009, I began to object strenuously to what was happening to my wife, in my daily prayers, and as time passed and the medical complications mounted, I continued to pray daily for every problem.  Early on the Lord brought the story from Luke 18 to mind about the persistent widow.  Jesus told the story to show his disciples "that they should always pray and not give up."  So I followed that leading and every day would plead for God to heal her. 

After Stephanie passed away, a friend of mine asked me an interesting question.  He asked, "In the time that Stephanie was sick, did you ever sense that God promised to heal her?"  I realized that the answer to that was "no".   A few weeks before Stephanie passed away I sensed a prompting from God.  Like Elijah in 1Kings 19, I didn't hear God in the wind, earthquake or fire of a sensational display of His power in healing of Stephanie; rather, I heard His voice in the whisper, which told me to stop praying about her specific illnesses, but rather to pray that He would heal her.  That's what I did, and that's what God did.  As much as I wanted to assert my will and have my wife back, God has blessed me with His assurance. Please don't think that I'm under the illusion that I could have somehow manipulated God into allowing Stephanie to live, but I could have been more resistant to His perfect will.  I know that Stephanie's death was her ultimate healing, and I am learning to accept that although I miss her terribly.

Peter was troubled by Jesus' words and wanted to force his will on Jesus.  I can understand that, but I realize that I would have been interfering with what God was doing in Stephanie's life.  Now as I'm approaching the first anniversary of her death, I affirm my belief that God's will was done in her life, and that she is now completely whole. But at times when I come home to a house that was once filled with the life, love and many interests of Stephanie, but is now empty, I still want to say, "Say it ain't so Jesus, say it ain't so." 

“The Cracked Bead “ as related by Jim Welty

At the end of May, I had a serendipitous encounter with a couple who knew Stephanie, but  had never met me.   They had purchased jewelry from her and expressed their appreciation not only for her creativity but also for the message of “The Cracked Bead” which was the name of her jewelry business.  At one point during the conversation the wife asked if Stephanie’s story was written down somewhere, and I realized that I didn’t know.  I looked through the files on our computer and found remnants of her business but not the story.  Eventually I worked up the courage to look through some of her papers  and found some notes about “The Cracked Bead”, so I decided to type it and share it with you.  Parts of what I discovered were in narrative which I will present as I found them, but parts were in outline form, so I will cautiously elaborate to keep the narrative flow going.  So here is the story of Stephanie Welty’s , “The Cracked Bead”. 

As a little girl I already loved jewelry.  I made rings and bracelets out of the small colorful wires inside telephone cords.  I dreamed of having a real birthstone ring and when I turned ten, my grandparents gave me a smoky topaz in a heart box.  Then came the day I looked forward to, receiving that most precious piece of jewelry – a flawless engagement ring.  But it wasn’t flawless.  The jeweler had been dishonest.  It was so upsetting to us that we returned it and had a new one made.  We wanted the symbol of our new life to be perfect and flawless, without blemish or defect – it needed to match our ideal of our new life.  We had a lot to learn.

One year while on vacation, my daughter Emma and I went into a bead store in Damriscotta, Maine called “Aboca Beads”.  The store was breathtaking, a visual Eden – thousands of beads arranged by color families in hundreds of small round tins.  I found myself saying: “Emma look at this”, and “I don’t know where to look”, over and over again.  I was so over-stimulated that I left the store without purchasing anything.  But the beads and their possibilities had captured my imagination, so I decided to try it out.

As Jim would say, “let the beadings begin”.  I learned as much as I could about beading.  I bought magazines and books, purchased tools, design boards, little round stackable containers and of course, beads.  I was thoroughly immersed in the bead world and was having a grand time. 

One afternoon I had once again taken up residence at our kitchen table in front of our large multi-paned window.  The natural light provided a great environment for choosing colors.   I like the idea of a completely tone on tone necklace, and I was “designing” on my board using clear beads.

I strung several clear beads in a row and then a cracked bead and then more clear beads.  I liked the pattern I was creating.  As I admired my work, my eye was drawn to the cracked bead.  “Looked how the cracked bead reflects the light”, I thought.  Then my mind took off, and I realized thatI am a cracked bead.

How did the bead get cracked?  I remember my friend Linda telling me that when she was a child, she and her siblings would put marbles in a frying pan on the stove, turn on the heat, and eventually the marbles would crack.  Stress and heat cause beads to crack. 

My life was already cracked and fractured due to my childhood and some traumatic experiences and negative messages that were communicated to me by my parents.  The extremes of my childhood created stress: the extremes of wanting to give my life to God and love him with all my heart but being terrified of his arbitrariness, the extremes of being told that I was made in God’s image but practically speaking I sensed that as a girl I was seen as less valuable than men, the extremes of wanting to reach my world for Jesus but not being allowed to participate in my world.  I kept thinking that it was me who just wasn’t getting it right, and so I must try harder.  The more I tried the more helpless I felt.  I longed for the childhood of others around me.   As a little girl I spent years yearning for the perfect, flawless childhood and rehearsing the “if onlys”.  I thought of myself as Jo from “Little Women”.  “My life is hopelessly flawed”.

What are the characteristics of the cracked bead?  They are whole on the outside and cracked on the inside.  I worked hard to create a whole life for my family and me.  I desperately wanted to feel normal.  I didn’t want to lose my individuality, but I didn’t want to be thought of a weird.   I wanted to throw everyone off the trail that the truth was that I felt like a second class citizen.  I was going to behave my way to change.  I didn’t want to let God down by showing that somehow his love and grace weren’t covering everything for me.    Appearances became more important than reality. 

On the inside, however, I was fractured.  I struggled with pain, depression and sadness.     I couldn’t understand why I knew God’s love but couldn’t feel it.  I couldn’t understand why phrases like “being used by God” or “created for His pleasure” made me angry.  I couldn’t understand why no matter how much I did for God, I couldn’t feel His delight.   Then 2001 came and brought panic attacks, fear, anxiety and sadness.  I didn’t sleep for months.  I didn’t think I would live through that summer.  I had to get help.

Cracked beads are also transparent, so I realized that I had to get honest.    I had to start telling the truth: the truth about my family, the truth about my definitions the truth about my view of God.  I had to put everything on the line and tell the truth.  But Jesus said in John 8:32:  “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”  

Finally cracked beads are reflective.  As I have stopped trying to be perfect and flawless and have become more honest about my fractures, others feel free to share their fractures with me.  “You’re broken?  So am I”   I have openly told the story of my healing journey and what my Heavenly Father is doing in my life with many women, believers and non-believers alike.  .  God is redeeming the brokenness and allowing it to catch His light.  Paul said it this way:  “And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”  (2 Corinthians 3:18)  

The beads that I used for my jewelry making taught me a lot about myself.  Ultimately they taught me to embrace the cracks.

A closing comment from Jim:

Writing these words was a good but difficult exercise.  It was good in that I was reminded of the wonderfully creative, gifted and talented woman that I had the privilege of being married to for nearly thirty-five years.  She was truly a cracked bead who strove to allow the light of God’s grace to shine through the flaws in her life that were inflicted by living in our fallen world.  Her awareness and observations of the wonder around her humbled me because I am often a man on a mission who can miss the beauty right in front of me.   She often made fun of me using the lyrics from a song of our youth, “Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride”.  Meanwhile she was taking in everything.  She marveled at the world around her.  

This process was difficult as I could hear her saying the things that I wrote.  I typed the words from her beautiful handwriting and remembered all the times she used that beautiful handwriting to communicate her love and support to me.   

This experience taught be something valuable about the importance of community.  The morning after I typed this up, I was spending my morning time in reading, reflection and prayer, and I came across these words from Kent Ira Groff.  He said, “A life-giving church is one where human brokenness is lifted up like bread and wine to be held, and touched, and blessed – to heal the world.”  Stephanie gave us all the gift of honesty about her brokenness and by that hopefully brought healing. 

"My Friend the Pharmacist" by Pastor Welty

Early on in Stephanie's illness, I used to joke that when you know your pharmacist on a first name basis, and they know every medication you're taking and why, it's not an ideal situation.  That, however, was true for Stephanie and me.  It seemed that almost every week I would be at the pharmacy getting a prescription filled.  The list of medications that Steph had to take was long and expensive. 

 A woman who worked at the pharmacy became a friend of mine.  Perhaps she could tell by the prescriptions I had to purchase or conversations that she had to have with doctors, that Stephanie had a lot of complicated medical problems.  Whenever Brenda was working and saw me she would greet me with a big smile, a hello and a question: "How's our girl doing?"  We would talk, and she would usually assure me that she was praying for Stephanie.  She was indeed a bright spot in a very dark journey.   

After Stephanie passed away, I thought about Brenda from time to time whenever I was in the grocery where the pharmacy is located, but I didn't see her.  Occasionally I would peak over at the pharmacy to see if she was there, but I wouldn't see her.  Then one morning when I was in the store to pick up a few things, Brenda walked in.  "How are you doing stranger?", she asked with a big smile.   I realized that she didn't know, so I told her that Stephanie passed away last summer, and she gave me a big hug and reminded me that Stephanie was better now.  I told her that I knew that.  It was a sweet encounter, but it also was hard.  It was like a scab being pulled off a wound.  I took my groceries to the car and was weeping as I loaded them and drove away. 

 In the days and weeks following Stephanie's death, there was an intensity with almost every encounter I had with friends who were seeing me for the first time since she had died.  That intensity has subsided significantly, but every now and then it raises up again.  Seeing Brenda was one of those occasions.  It was a brief encounter, but it affected me. 

I'm glad that the pharmacist was my friend and that I got to see her because she was such a source of encouragement. But it was a mixed blessing - or was it?  I think every time I cry, I am reminded of the great gift that I lost.   Some people never get the blessing of living with someone who knows you as well as or better than you know yourself and vice versa.  Someone who knows your weaknesses and foibles, your peccadilloes and annoying habits and loves you anyway.  Someone who celebrates your successes and consoles you when you're not successful.  That was true love, and I was blessed to have had that for almost thirty-five years.  The intensity of the feeling of loss that I feel occasionally is a tribute to what I lost. 

So I'm glad that I saw Brenda, and if she had asked:  "How's our girl doing?"   I would have said through tears, "She's just fine. Thank you."   

She's Alright Now - by Pastor Welty

"She'll be alright; it's you I'm worried about."   A doctor in the Emergency Room said those words to me as she was treating my daughter, Emma.  Emma had an unfortunate accident, which was my fault, and which left her in need of several stitches. I must have looked ashen and desperate as the doctor was stitching her up.  The thought that I had injured my little girl was breaking my heart.  The doctor took excellent care of Emma, but she was concerned for my well being as well. The doctor could care for Emma's wound, but she didn't have the expertise needed to handle mine. 

I sometimes imagine that God is up in heaven looking down at me and saying about Stephanie:  "She's alright now; it's you I'm worried about".  Last summer Stephanie became alright.  After having suffered for six years from a litany of medical problems, she is now perfectly whole.  When I list those medical problems, I can't believe what she endured.  We walked through the difficult journey of her failing health together, struggled to hang onto hope, struggled to find answers, but now she is alright - completely healed, but I'm still here.  So I wonder if God is up in heaven saying:  "She's alright now; it's you I'm worried about."   

 But unlike the doctor who cared for Emma's wounds, my Heavenly Father does have the expertise to care for both of us. He healed Stephanie's illnesses, and He can mend my broken heart. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted  and saves those who are crushed in spirit.  (Psalm 34:18)  (The Lord)  heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3) Those aren't just words on a page to me but real experiences that my Heavenly Father has blessed me with.  My quiet times with the Lord often involve tears of joy as I reflect upon His faithfulness to me in my journey, and as I have significant and real encounters with Him through His word and prayer.

 And God doesn't worry about us like the doctor in the ER, he intervenes.  He gives us hope, through the death and resurrection of His Son for us, so now I know for sure that Stephanie is alright, and that I will see her again, and she will be even more beautiful than the day I married her - which is hard for me to imagine.   He gives us His Spirit to comfort and direct us in the journey.  I just have to adjust to my new life without her as I wrote in a previous blog: "The Bridges of Fair Haven".  There are countless adjustments and just when I think I've gotten through most of them, another one unexpectedly raises its head, and that leads to tears, anger or  just the handling of more details..  But my Heavenly Father has given me the grace and courage to face each one.

 Tommy Walker wrote a song entitled "He Knows My Name".  Here are the lyrics for the chorus:  "He knows my name.  He knows my every thought. He sees each tear that falls And He hears me when I call."

Those words are so comforting as at times I find myself missing Stephanie so much that tears just well up in me, and I cry out. I know that my Heavenly Father, sees each tear that falls.  And He hears me when I call.  So Stephanie is alright now, and so am I because my Heavenly Father is looking out for me.