Every Sunday when folks arrive at the double doors at Northwest Hills United Methodist Church, volunteers are there to greet them with hugs, handshakes, and chatter. Inside the doors, sits a special greeter in his wheelchair, armed with a smile and a firm handshake. I’ve grown to look forward to Lee Whetherhult’s greetings. He always says the same thing as he clasps my hand in his. “You brought that great smile with you today.”
The last few Sundays Lee hasn’t been in his usual spot. Unease crept into my heart. He never misses. I learned in Sunday school class last week that his cancer had progressed to the point that he had been moved to hospice. I can’t understand how this could happen so quickly. He was at church in December. He died on Sunday, Jan. 22.
There’s a phrase in Spanish that I’ve never been able to translate to my satisfaction. “No me pasa.” A teacher in one of my University of Costa Rica classes used it when a student passed away suddenly. It means the idea can’t get through your head. It just doesn’t make sense. It’s incomprehensible. That’s how I feel about Lee. I didn’t know him personally, but he had a tremendous impact on the members of the NWH congregation who knew his story.
His decline didn’t happen quickly. It only seemed that way to me. Lee had stage IV cancer. The doctors said they couldn’t do anymore for him. He made the choice to continue to come to church every Sunday, even though that meant taking a VIA Trans shuttle that delivered him very early, much earlier than necessary. He decided to use that time to make others feel welcome and comfortable. He became a fixture at that front door. He became the hands and feet of Christ even though he didn’t leave his wheelchair.
I know his presence meant a lot to everyone whose life he touched with this simple act of service. But its significance to me was profound. I too have a Stage IV cancer diagnosis, although mine is currently in remission. I came to that door, sick and tired from chemo, and after surgery. I continued to come to that door as my hair fell out, I wore scarves and hats, and then my hair started to grow back. I completed chemo and started to feel better. Lee was always there with that comforting smile through it all. He looked at me as if he understood what I was going through. Because he did.
Next Sunday he won’t be there. But the example he set is fixed in my heart. The light of his faith shone in him for all to see. It’s like that children’s song, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” Lee’s light shone with a brilliance that reminds me that he knew he would not walk that last hundred yards alone. No matter what the future brings, neither do any of us, if we adopt Lee’s faith and his courage.
Thank you and rest your sweet soul in peace, Mr. Lee.
Very nice tribute Kelly. Thanks
Thanks Kelly. That was a beautiful tribute.
Thanks, Debi!
Thank you for sharing this ❤️. May God comfort all who will miss him.
Thank you for sharing this message. It is a wonderful example of how one person could touch a lot of people. God bless his memory and give comfort to his family and friends.
Your a a Warrior Kelly! You and Lee are/were inspirational!
Thanks, Laura!
What a wonderful way to introduce us to a dear man.
Thanks for this, Kelly. Every Sunday he’d arrive at church shortly after I did at 6 a.m. We’d visit for a few moments, and then he’d tell me to get on with my preparations for morning worship. He’d come listen as the praise band rehearsed, and leave the sanctuary in time to take his position by the front doors and greet everyone who came through them. I’ll miss him sitting in his wheelchair with his cowboy hat. Lee’s example always reminded me that no one, NO ONE, who claims to be a Christ-follower has an adequate excuse for not serving others.
Amazing. 6 a.m. I can only imagine what time he had to get up in order to be there at 6. I’m sure the time you spent chatting with him meant a lot to Lee. Thanks for sharing.
Lee was a dear friend. A few years ago he lived in my home, and was such an inspiration to me. He truly loved animals as much as I do, and my animals adored him. Especially one named Christina, a gray cat, whom would lay upside down in his arms and be loved like a baby. He also taught my dog to sit. We loved to talk about the Lord and we always prayed together. He loved my home cooked meals. When my grandson Preston came into my life, he decided to get his own place. He was really missed. I am so glad that he make NW Hills his home, he loved being at the front door and welcoming our brothers and sisters in Christ. I miss him, but he couldn’t be at a better home now.
Debbie, thank you for sharing your memories of Lee with us. It doesn’t surprise me that he was an animal lover and such a joy to have around. We’ll all miss his smiling face at NW Hills!
Perhaps your writing is so touching because it is so heartfelt, Kelly, and it somehow authorizes our hearts to feel so much of what yours does. You make me hope to meet him someday.
Thank you, Shell. I’m glad Lee’s story touched you. I’m sure he’ll be greeting folks at the gates of heaven when you get there!
Thank you Kelly for saying so eloquently what so many of us at NWH have felt when we learned Mr Lee had died. I only knew him from his warm handshake and his eye-to-eye heartfelt greeting he would gift me with each Sunday. As sad as we are for ourselves at his loss, aren’t we thankful he is well and whole in the arms of our Lord. He will be missed-
You’re welcome, Kate. It does make me feel better to know he’s no longer suffering.