Walz Hope

Julie — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 03:11:54 +0000

Tonight at church a friend shared of his need for an upcoming surgical procedure to control pain associated with years of chronic back pain. He shared of his need for a pain pump. I remember Mark’s use of the pain pump and how wonderfully it eased his pain. I pray and hope my friend can find the freedom from his pain.

Wouldn’t it be great if freedom from emotional pain came with the push of a button? Maybe then the tears would never drip any further than my nose. By the time the tear streaks dried, the pain would lessen and happy thoughts would return. Unfortunately, reality prevails and the tears continually ram against the dam. Many times the stalwart dam breaks and tears fall at inopportune times. Today was just such a day.

The overwhelming responsibility of taking care of the needs of my children, home and work have worn down my reserves. I know all the right words to tell my heart but they feel so empty. I have cracked the nut’s shell only to find the walnut missing.

Please continue to pray for my family. Every day is a new day per chance to enjoy a nut.

Julie — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 01:40:30 +0000

Last year Mark ordered roses from a well know catalog company. The although the catalog extolled of the individual flower’s unique beauty and aroma, I was sorely disappointed when I opened the cardboard box to find the ugliest bunch of stems. I am not sure what I had expected but this lifeless looking twig looked like it belonged more in my firewood pile than in my garden. Unfortunately, I can identify with that ugly twig.

At one time in life our family rose bush flourished. Bright red aromatic blooms rising from long stalks covered the bush. Friends stopped by to enjoy the bush’s beauty. The roses entertained its visitors and welcomed all who entered into its presence.

With Mark’s passing I feel as though our roses have been torn from the bush leaving only ugly mangled stems. The velvety rose petals lay strewn across the garden. Sap weeps from between the jagged edges of the stems.

(to be continued; too tired tonight)

Julie — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 01:55:29 +0000

Sundays pose the most difficult of days for me. My vulnerability before the Lord tenders a heart haggard from the trials of the week. Tuesday I returned to work. Wednesday I signed the children up for Social Security. My tears poured all over the sweet lady behind the desk. I tried to sleep my way through Thursday and Friday. A mountain of clothes piled on the laundry room floor. Dog hair had collected in the corners of the back hallway. I could muster enough energy to shed a few tears but not enough energy to tackle the mounting chores alone.

This morning I searched for Mark’s name on the healing prayer list. Why? Did I hope his name would still be listed? I am not sure what I expected to find. His name was not listed for he has already received his healing. Later, I wanted to write our family’s name on a prayer request card. My heart cried out, “Please don’t forget us.” Mark’s pain has ended but our pain runs swift and deep like a powerful river wedged between high canyon walls. We endure many rapids and yearn for the wide open river plains. Our bodies may not require a physical healing but the roil of emotions wreaks havoc on our spirit.

Today we celebrated Mark Jr.’s 21st birthday. Katie and Dad’s seat sat empty at the dining room table. Work prevented Katie from making the trip back to Pikeville. Mark Dixon requested one of his favorite meals, white wine chicken and rice. Normally, Mark and I would have worked side by side in the kitchen. I managed to pull the dinner together including the baking of a chocolate/cherry cake. Mark delighted in all things baked with sugar. In 22 years of marriage I have probably baked only 22 cakes, one for each of his birthdays.

The kids and I laughed and enjoyed memories of Dad. Although recent memories were jaded by the sickness of cancer, the children still managed to pull out funny stories and precious recollections. We talked of Mark Dixon and Randee’s wedding and of how well Mark looked and sounded. We laughed at pictures of Mark wearing his ball shorts, bright purple polo and black dress socks with slippers. Chris retold stories of Mark under the effect of the anesthesia. She had him down to a T. I wept as we watched a DVD from the wedding. Mark looked so handsome even without his trademark curls.

I witnessed hope in action tonight. Hope in laughter. Hope in tears. Hope will see us through the rest of September. Hope will journey with us through the coming holidays. Hope will take us through this next year.

Please do not forget our need for your prayers. Many times I think I can almost reach out to touch them, almost like they have form and shape. I thank you for seeing us through this difficult time.

Julie — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 00:09:35 +0000

Last night I cooked dinner for the first time since Mark’s death. Before yesterday we ate whenever we felt like it; we did not eat as a family. In many ways our meal was not much different from the table gatherings this summer. Mark occasionally sat with us as a family but most of the time he did not have the stamina required to engage the children in conversation. Eventually he stopped sitting down with us or maybe we quit eating together.

No one sat in Mark’s place. I must have expelled one of my heavier sighs for Michael immediately commented on the weirdness of our dinner. Matthew acknowledged that someone was missing. I wanted to scream not someone, but Daddy. Christine prefers not to talk about Mark at all.

The children deal with grief very differently from me. Their lives have moved forward yet mine has ground to a halt. As a pastor I remember Mark saying that when one loses a parent, one has lost the past. When one loses a child, one has lost the future. And, when one loses a spouse, one has lost the present. My present days feel lost in brokenness. Christine thinks I am depressing, for my tears begin without warning. Matthew fears my tears. I had to explain to Matthew that Mommy cries because she misses Daddy very much. He may feel momentary sadness when looking at Mark’s picture but the loss does not consume his entire thinking. The younger the child the greater their difficulty in understanding my grief. Thankfully, they do understand the power of their hugs. They pour out blessings upon me daily.

I continue to thank the Lord for your encouragement. You have called. You have sent notes. You have kept me in the daily routines of life. Most of all I thank the Lord for your prayers for He has set my lost foot toward the path of righteousness.

Julie — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 01:29:55 +0000

The children and I have experienced a good day. After making an early run to Walmart, a physical exhaustion beset me and I ended up taking a nap on the couch. Maybe it was the fog I parted as I walked down the aisles of the store. The density of the haze would cause me to mentally stumble and forget my purpose for shopping. Napping on the couch momentarily cleared the haze. Unfortunately, when I awake the pall settled back in again.

I found today’s imagined fears not nearly as bad as the reality. A list of seven activities occupied my mind enough to get me through the afternoon…courthouse for car registration, pick up watch, get prescription from pharmacy etc… By the time I finished my errands the kids had come in from school.

Jerry stopped by the house this evening to drop off a pair of pants for Michael. I think Matthew surprised both of us by asking him to stay a few minutes. Matthew handed him his work from academic team and asked Jerry to quiz him from a list of 45 entries. Neither could see the tears well up in my eyes. Mark has given Matt a good fatherly foundation and Matthew intuitively understands the measure of a good mentor.

Thank you all for your encouragement and your prayers. I have made it through another day, one step at a time.

Julie — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 04:46:53 +0000

12:30 am

“But I want you to know brethren that the things which happened to me have actually turned out for the furtherance of the gospel.” Philippians 1:12

Many a night as I lay on the couch in Mark’s hospital room tears would run over the bridge of my nose and drip onto my pillow. I think back to one particularily difficult night when Mark awakened me several times to use the urinal. By the time Mark settled down to finally rest, dawn was beginning to break through to another day. Curling into a fetal position my entire body grew limp from shear exhaustion. My heart cried out to the Lord. Immediately a warm pressure enveloped my body as if someone held me from all sides. My tears subsided. I drifted off to sleep. The Lord continues to comfort me in my hours of need. That HE holds me through the night, I have no doubt.

Mark’s funeral went beautifully. He would have been pleased. The hairs on my arm literally raised as several hundred voices lifted in praise to the Lord with “And Can It Be.” I reached down to grasp the edge of the pew in the event my body had acquired levitating abilities.

I have grown too tired to finish. Even my written words tonight have required great effort. Thank you all for your support, your shared memories and your love. My life is easier because of Christ’s love shown through you.

Julie — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 02:53:16 +0000

A wedding, a birthday, a graduation and a funeral. “The only month with no holidays,” Mark always said. Somehow in thirty-one days we will have managed to pack several months worth of emotional events into a short time span. Mark fought valiantly in life for the first three; as a family we will fulfill his final wishes in the fourth.

The children and I have made it through the first day without a husband and a father. We have had times of laughter as we relived memories and times of tears. Mark Jr. helped me to select the clothes Mark will wear for the funeral. (I cannot bring myself to look at his side of the closet. Shoes he will never wear again line the shoe shelf. I find my glances upon his shoes the most difficult to endure. ) Christine rang the house phone twice in order to hear her daddy’s voice on the answering machine. The children have rummaged through pictures searching for their father’s face. “Remember when Dad did…,” and they would laugh at the drama Mark seemed to create in his wake (no pun intended).

At one moment the kids and I (Randee and Clay included) gathered around the kitchen table; the conversation volleyed back and forth between the children. Laughter rang. Almost as an outsider watching the precious interaction between our children, I hoped Mark might have a glimpse of the joy amidst our sadness. He definitely left a legacy of love and laughter.

Thank you for sharing your stories with us. We have found comfort in your own trials and joy in your rememberances of Mark. Walzhope will continue to remain open as I journal through the trials and highlights of the next few weeks. Pray for us as we settle into new routines and learn to adjust to new family roles.

A Future with Hope

Julie — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 01:26:20 +0000

9:20
Mark Dixon Walz passed into the arms of Savior this evening at approximately 8:05. Mark Jr., Randee, Ruth Ann Shepherd and I approached his bedside as we noticed a change in Mark’s breathing pattern. He opened his eyes. His emaciated lips drew back into a smile as he inhaled his final breath.

I include his obituary written earlier in the week:

Mark Dixon Walz, 56, of Pikeville died Thursday, Aug. 27, 2009 after a four and one-half year battle against colon cancer. He died at the Pikeville Medical Center.
He was born in Dundalk, MD, Aug. 9, 1953, the son of the late Arthur and Beatrice Walz. Mark Walz grew up in a family the youngest of 6 boys. He came to Kentucky to attend Asbury College in 1971. While at Asbury, Mark answered the call to full time Christian ministry. After graduation, he became an associate minister at Park UMC in Lexington, KY where he served for 11 years. While there, he completed his Master of Divinity degree at Asbury Seminary. Since his ordination in the Kentucky Conference of the United Methodist Church (UMC), he has served several church appointments including Vanceburg UMC, Mt. Hope UMC (Cynthiana), First UMC (Ashland), and First UMC (Prestonsburg). Mark also served 3 years in the Kentucky Council Office as director of the Kentucky conference youth ministry and 10 years as chaplain at Pikeville Methodist Hospital (now Pikeville Medical Center).

Mark was known for his creativity in presenting the Gospel. In worship, this may have included setting up a visual worship center, singing a solo, portraying a biblical character in costume, updating a Bible story to a modern setting so kids (and adults) can relate to it, and of course, adding humor. He created fellowship opportunities as a tool to draw people closer to Christ, whether he was cooking a gourmet meal for the church or leading interactive games or small groups. He constantly invited people to enlarge their worlds, recruiting groups for events such as Promise Keepers and short term mission trips. Many people can testify how their lives have been changed by going on a mission trip led by Mark.

Perhaps Mark’s greatest gift was his passion and true concern for everyone he meets to know the Lord or deepen their relationship with Him. So, whether a close friend or a total stranger, even a brief encounter with Mark was likely to lead to a word of prayer, an invitation to participate in a church activity, or encouragement in a time of need. People’s lives were deeply touched by his caring and genuine concern.
Mark’s own life was deepened and enriched when he met and married his wife, Julie. They have served in partnership and ministry for over 22 years. Their marriage has been blessed with 5 children. Mark was a wonderful husband and involved father, investing much time emotionally and spiritually into the maturation of his children. He prayed that they grew in favor with God and man.

He is survived by his wife, Julie Walz of Pikeville; five children, Mark Walz, Jr. of Grayson, Katie Walz of Pikeville, Michael Walz of Pikeville, Christine Walz of Pikeville, and Matthew Walz of Pikeville; one daughter-in-law, Randee Walz of Grayson; five brothers, Fredrick Walz of Lexington, Harvey Walz of Springfield, MO, Robert Walz of Mechanicsburg, PA, Donald Walz and Timothy Walz of MD.

Funeral services will be held at 7:00 pm Sunday, Aug. 30, at the Pikeville United Methodist Church with Rev. Brad Smart officiating. Visitation will precede the service from 3:00 to 6:00 in the church sanctuary. Graveside services will be held at 11:00 am Monday, Aug. 31, at the Winchester Cemetery. Family request expressions of sympathy made as donations to the education fund of Pikeville UMC for his five children. Arrangements were under the direction of J. W. Call Funeral Home.

Julie — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 13:22:12 +0000

9:15
Mark continues to sustain his life on approximately 8 oz. of fluids over a 24 hour period. Although his toes have returned to toasty warm, his breathing remains shallow and irregular with an oxygen saturation rate of 92%. He experiences no voluntary movement. Waste production by the kidneys has reduced dramatically with very little output. We could still have a long haul. Even dialysis patients can go several days without filtration through the kidneys.

This is day 9 in the hospital and day 5 of the hepatic coma. I have ventured no farther than outside the door to Mark’s room. All my days have begun to blur together. I repeat myself often. Your notes and emails connect me to the outside world. Thank you all for committing to journey alongside me during Mark’s final days. I love you for it.

Julie — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 20:39:49 +0000

4:15
Mark presses on in this life. Many times Dr. Musgrave and a doctor friend of mine are amazed Mark continues to live. Against all odds his heart beats with only half the pressure running through his blood vessels. His diaphragm has calmed allowing his lungs to freely inhale and exhale. Kidneys still filter the blood and produce urine. With only eight ounces of fluid a day dripping through his veins, Mark manages to persevere.

Like a battle weary soldier lying prostrate on the ground, Mark tenaciously confronts the assault refusing to give up his sword. Fingers curl around the hilt. A blade so heavy only Christ can lift, rests on the ground. Mark awaits his Savior to brandish the sword, defeat the cancerous enemy and claim the victory. Jesus Christ always wins.