The Power of Faith When Tragedy Strikes

by Chris Norton

  That experience alone was worth the twelve-hour road trip, but then Coach Meyer invited us to his son’s baseball game the next day. We had a great time shooting the breeze with him, and he seemed very intrigued with my story. Prior to leaving the game, he said he wanted therapy updates from me at least one a week. I felt honored and humbled he took such an interest in supporting me.

  The Des Moines event site, Prairie Meadows, as well as Luther College, Craig and Lea Culver, the Lohse Family Foundation, and my family have been huge supporters. I could go on and on about all the people who were there for me. For instance, I won’t forget all my friends who aided by driving me around, talking to businesses, passing out fliers, and spreading the word. It didn’t take long to realize the world was full of wonderful, caring, selfless people willing to help on a regular basis.

  When I was in school, I wanted to have a bigger role in the foundation, but between classes and therapy, it was hard to devote as much time as I would have liked. I had my hands in so many different projects, I couldn’t do anything full speed the way I wanted. Additionally, as a board member of the Neurological House Foundation, I offered to help run another event in Rochester, Minnesota, to raise money to establish the first ever Neurological Recovery House, a hospitality house for those with neurological issues and their families near the Mayo Clinic.

  As my family quickly discovered after my injury and hospitalization, it was too expensive to stay at a hotel for months on end while doing outpatient rehab at Mayo, and my rehab options at home didn’t fit my needs. If I hadn’t squeaked in under the eighteen-year-old age limit, I wouldn’t have been able to stay at the Ronald McDonald House and continue getting care at Mayo. A Neurological Recovery House provided people of all ages who wanted to stay and continue to receive care at Mayo an affordable and accessible option.

  The idea for NRH and the foundation were established by some of the doctors and nurses in the neurological field at Mayo because they saw a huge need. After I left Mayo, was at school for a while, and had started my foundation, they reached out to me about the project and asked if I’d apply for a board position because of my rehab, foundation, and fundraising experience. My role as a board member was to give patient and family insight because they had the medical professional side covered. I never considered not taking part, even though my schedule was jam packed, because I was very passionate about helping others in need. The goal remained to establish Neurological Recovery Houses all over the country, modeled after the Ronald McDonald Houses.

  I definitely took school seriously. I loved the liberal arts idea and philosophy, and I attended Luther College expecting to get a broad education in a lot of different fields. My official major became business management, as I felt that major best suited my needs for the foundation. While I took my business classes seriously and I wanted to learn as much as I could, when I figured out what I wanted to do with my life, taking the odd language, religion, art, and science classes made it a lot harder to stay focused and motivated to do well in those classes.

  After discovering a passion with the foundation and speaking, school kind of took a back seat. If I had a big speaking engagement where a lot of people with networking ties could help SCI CAN well after school was over, and I had the opportunity to reach and influence lots of people, I ended up missing classes for the day. Most of my teachers understood. It didn’t hurt that I felt sort of like an unofficial ambassador for Luther College during my speaking engagements.

  I was honored as one of Central Iowa’s 2012 American Red Cross Heroes of the Heartland after my dad and a girl from Luther nominated me for the award. I couldn’t make it to the banquet because it was on a school day in the middle of the week, but my family went in my place. Designations like the Heroes of the Heartland award and the Courage in Sports award helped give credence to my foundation and my message, as well as spread the good work we were trying to accomplish.

  Thanks to Mayo, I got to throw out the first pitch at a Minnesota Twins game in September, 2012. My friend Tanner went out to the mound with me, and I wanted to stand up to throw the pitch because I didn’t want to do it sitting down. Go big or go home! For a month, I worked on throwing a baseball and figuring out the best way Tanner could stand me up and be out of my way so I could throw the pitch. A lot of thought and practice went into it, and I was pretty nervous because sometimes my hands couldn’t get a good hold of the ball.

  I told Tanner that if I stood and dropped the ball, he should sit me back down and I would throw it from my seat. I was worried that if he tried to retrieve the ball from the ground, I might lose my balance and fall down. So, of course, I got up and dropped the ball right away. Without hesitation, Tanner bent down, picked up the ball, and popped it right back into my hand like it was nothing. I was so glad he didn’t stay with our earlier plan because when we tried it again, it went fine.

  It took me two years to walk unassisted with a walker in therapy only, and achieving that goal definitely motivated me to keep working hard. It made me reflect back on how far I’d come and how far I had yet to go before I could lose the walker. For better or worse, I was on to the next thing. Sometimes my reaction frustrated my parents and therapists because I didn’t get overly excited about accomplishing something new. I’d get excited when they got excited, but I was always looking ahead to the next goal.

  By the two-year mark, I felt confident saying my injury was without a doubt a blessing. At the one-year anniversary, I could somewhat see it as a blessing, but living life was still so hard, and thinking about my future filled me with fear. There were a lot of question marks in my life about what I was going to do and if I’d find someone to share my life with. By the second year anniversary, I was looking forward to the opportunities with the foundation and speaking engagements, and there were a lot of different things happening in my life that were exciting.

  At the three-year mark, without a doubt, I knew 110 percent it was a blessing. Life was great, I was getting stronger, the foundation was making a difference, speaking was still fulfilling, and I met a great girl named Emily through social media. As our conversation developed, our interest seemed mutual. I worried that when I told her my story, she’d get scared and end our conversation, but she seemed intrigued and wanted to meet. I definitely wanted to meet her, but we took it nice and slow. We became Facebook friends, and we went from there to texting. Emily attended Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa, and we decided to meet when I visited a friend on her campus. We hit it off right away, and we haven’t slowed down since.

  * * *

  “Everyone always asks me what I thought about dating someone in a wheelchair. From the beginning I haven’t even seen his chair. I’ve seen who he is as a person because that’s what shines through to me. He was confident in his own skin and never made his chair an issue or a concern.”

  ~ Emily Summers, Chris’s girlfriend

  * * *

  Emily was instrumental in my recovery, both physically and mentally. As a passionate, driven person, she recognized my passion and drive to get better and stronger. She helped me achieve my goals by learning how to transfer me, how to stand me up, how to walk me in my walker, and how to do all the things my guy friends did to help me with therapy. When she visited me at school on the weekends, she assisted and encouraged me during workouts.

  People have often asked if I could go back and change the play, if I would, and the answer has always been no. I wouldn’t change anything about it. It was impossible to look back and not see the countless blessings that were a direct result of my injury and the wonderful people I’d met along the way. My journey from injury to recovery and beyond was a gift, and even though it would make life easier, I’d never go back and change a thing.

  * * *

  The point of “faith” is believing and trusting in things we cannot see or understand. The last three years have been filled with moments of hurt, pain, sadness, anger, and disappointment, and at the same time joy, love, encouragement, and
hope. Trials refine us, and they make us grow in our faith and determination.

  ~Terry Norton, CaringBridge, October 16, 2013

  * * *

  WHILE CHRIS was at Mayo, the whole family recognized that other people with spinal cord injuries didn’t have the same advantages as Chris. We learned very quickly that our insurance, both our primary insurance and the NCAA policy, afforded us more benefits than others. Chris didn’t feel it was fair, but we didn’t have any idea how we could help other people. Then Chris spoke at the Lynch Family Foundation event, and Jason Golly asked Chris what he was going to do with the money they gave him. The idea that had been brewing all along to assist other people with spinal cord injuries get equipment fused into a plan.

  Chris knew he wasn’t the only person with the drive, determination, and desire to get better. Most people wanted the opportunity, but were denied because of forces outside their control. I gave Chris a lot of credit for acknowledging his advantages and wanting to do something to help. Our foundation came into existence because while the thought lingered in the back of our minds, when Jason Golly pressed Chris, he provided the impetus that made us pull the trigger.

  I believe the Lynch family saw a lot of potential in Chris, and they wanted to support him by maximizing that potential in order to bring about change. Even the tandem bike he received at the fundraiser represented yet another gift that made him feel blessed, and it fueled his desire to aid others. God’s work was in action again, placing people in Chris’s path to guide him when he needed it most, stoking his excitement about the foundation as a meaningful way to bring about change in our community.

  When Chris presented the idea of starting our own foundation to Deb and me, I was kind of surprised. He was only twenty years old, and most twenty-year-olds don’t start foundations to help other people. In his situation, for Chris to be focused on others made me very proud, but in the back of my mind, I thought, oh, boy. I was worried about him adding something to his already crowded plate. He was a full-time student, in therapy full-time, and he wanted to add a foundation to his schedule.

  When I stepped back and looked at the big picture, I realized that if he had something he was focused on, passionate about, and believed in, it would maintain his perspective and his attitude on the rare occasions he got down. In the long run, if starting a foundation was really important to him and something that drove him, it would be a real positive in his life, especially at a time when his future seemed so uncertain.

  Getting the family on board was the easy part, and boy did we have work to do. We formed a corporation, filed for non-profit status, created our bylaws, and began focusing on our mission statement. Fortunately, I was able to use a local foundation’s paperwork as a guide. In what would become our modus operandi, Chris came up with the idea, and Mom and Dad did the paperwork and executed the plan.

  After incorporation and filing for non-profit status, we needed to put together a board of directors. Chris and I talked at length and decided that in order to give us legitimacy and for our mission to work, we wanted approximately eight board members comprised of business and medical professionals. We wanted people who’d feel passionate about our mission, take the position seriously, and be good contributors.

  We first approached attorney Pat Vickers, Chris’s roommate’s father, who’d been with us from the get-go, and who enthusiastically joined. We asked Scott Atzen, a supervisor at Des Moines Waterworks and a longtime friend of our family, to become a member. Scott fit our needs because of his proximity to home, event experience, business experience, and his connections in the community. With Chris, Pat, Scott, and me in place, we then approached Mike Durnin, Luther’s head football coach, as a Luther representative. Fortunately, he accepted with honor.

  When we weighed our medical professional options, we wanted to keep Mayo in the loop, so Chris’s PT, Megan Gill, was a natural choice. We also wanted to ask someone from Decorah. Hannah Gaveske had worked at Winneshiek Medical Center as an athletic trainer, but was utilized as an athletic trainer by Luther College at the time she joined our board. She was a great fit for our foundation, especially since she went on to become a trainer for the US Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista, California. We also asked Jennessa Luzum, Chris’s OT at Winneshiek Medical Center.

  I was thrilled with the group we’d assembled representing exactly what we wanted from the business, legal, and medical fields. About a year after we formed, we asked former University of Iowa basketball player and Iowa City businessman, Mark Gannon, to join us. He was a good addition to help broaden our base throughout the state of Iowa.

  As we assembled our board of directors, we began focusing on our mission statement. From the beginning, we knew we didn’t want to own the therapy equipment, the therapy facility, or run a therapy program because we didn’t want to deal with insurance, maintenance, laws, and regulations. Also, we talked about getting the biggest bang for our buck in order to multiply the equipment’s impact. The money we raised would go to organizations, achieving our goal of impacting multiple individuals. We aimed to keep the money raised in the community as much as possible. If we raised money in Decorah, for example, we’d grant the money to an organization in or around Decorah.

  When we started, Chris and I had different unstated visions for the direction of SCI CAN. I envisioned doing one event per year, picking out one piece of equipment to raise money for, coming together as a group, and raising anywhere from fifteen to fifty thousand dollars to achieve our goal. Chris had a different vision because he was a “go big or go home” kind of guy. He thought big, he dreamt big, and he shot big.

  Our initial plan was to hold an event in Decorah raising funds for an RT300 bicycle because there was nothing like it in the northeastern part of the state. The whole family helped with the first SCI CAN event. Because Winneshiek Medical Center already knew they were going to receive the bike, their marketing department helped with posters and promoting the event to their employees. Having the recipient’s help was huge, and we weighed the effect of that when we decided to change the way we allocated funds. For the sake of logistics, and after continued discussion and debate, following recipients were not picked in advance.

  We eventually decided to award the money through grants, allowing the facilities to buy the equipment after defining through the application process what they wanted, why they wanted it, and how they planned to maintain it. After the fundraiser, we’d present them with a check, along with the agreement that they would use the money to purchase the stated equipment.

  Our resident attorney, Pat Vickers, helped draft the application and awarding agreement that relinquished us from liability and any responsibility for the training, maintenance, and upkeep of the equipment. Because we were all working professionals with other jobs, we couldn’t assume the responsibility of the equipment once the money was distributed. Thus, our mission was born.

  Before we decided to form the foundation, Chris wanted to go to law school or possibly get his MBA and do something business related, but he never really saw himself inside an office. He wanted to be out and about, meeting people and networking. When he was injured, he thought about careers in terms of what he could do to help and serve others. After being asked to speak at different events, his speeches evolved from just telling his story to a message of hope that resonated with people in their businesses, marriages, faith, or whatever challenge they faced. As his message began to have a real impact, he realized that speaking afforded him the opportunity to help others and that perhaps God’s plan was for him to focus on speaking and the foundation.

  Every time Chris spoke about his injury, he credited faith, hard work, determination, family, and friends for his success. He didn’t want people focusing only on the facts of his injury, because his message was about responding to life’s challenges, not the specifics of the challenge. Everyone faces challenges, and everyone who heard his message of faith, family, and determination also had the ability to make something good
out of a bad situation.

  * * *

  “Throughout the years that I have known Chris, I have learned a great deal by being a part of his journey. I have learned from him that our path in life is dictated less by the events that unfold, and more by how we choose to react during the succession of those events.”

  ~ Rich Holton, Luther classmate and friend

  * * *

  I was always a little concerned about his future, but I knew he was going to have a positive impact on the world. I looked at him and knew he was already having an influence on lives, even before he was cut loose from college. He was destined to do amazing and unbelievable things, and knowing that brought me peace. The more his story was told, and as more people got to know him (faults and all), his impact on others continued to grow. The scale by which he measured his goals and outlook only got bigger, to the benefit of others.

  With so much of his time spent in Decorah and not seeing him every day, we didn’t realize all the improvements Chris was making. For example, during the summer of 2013, Chris, my mom, Alex, and I drove to my nephew’s wedding. Chris sat in the front passenger seat. For the longest time, he couldn’t raise his arms over his shoulder, but when the sun shone on his face, to my great surprise, he reached up and pulled the visor down. Later that evening, he reached across the table for the pepper, a task he hadn’t been able to do before on his own. He’d come a long way from when I had to feed him every bite, and it felt encouraging to witness his progress toward independence.