Mark

   Mark's funeral was yesterday.  Since Mark had been the director of facilities at my school for about fifteen years (up until a couple of years ago), our principal made the executive decision to have a half-day of school so that all who wished could make the 1:00 funeral service.  It was the right thing to do.  There were several hundred people present for the funeral of a 64-year-old single father of four.  Mark held no professional degrees, never went to college, never sought any form of status in this world.  But he impacted so many.  How?  Well, herein is the lesson God reminded me of while I attended that funeral.
   Mark was a selfless giver.  Many of the people at the funeral had been recipients of his assistance in little and big fix-it projects.  Mark would invite himself over if he knew a friend was doing a kitchen remodel or chainsawing a tree or had trouble with the plumbing.
   Mark would also speak his mind.  Stories abounded of things that Mark said that may have been slightly or grossly inappropriate or offensive.  Often it seemed as though Mark would have to hear his thoughts before he could process his thoughts.  Sometimes it got him into a little bit of trouble.  But Mark was always honest in what he said.
   But Mark also was a smiler who loved people.  He would engage people in one-on-one conversations.  While there were times he showed evidence of being a curmudgeon, underneath that was a "Captain Jack Sparrow" kind of smile that sent the message that everything would be alright.
   There are times following the death of a person when those reflecting on his life sanitize the facts and nostalgically only remember what is good.  This entry reflects that, yet I add the caveat that I know and recognize that Mark was far from perfect, that he had his drawbacks.  But those three qualities I highlighted -- giving selflessly, speaking honestly, loving unconditionally -- are lessons I came away with from the funeral yesterday.
   One of Mark's sons reminded us that the mountains the family is facing right now are so big, so insurmountable.  The depth of the valley they find themselves in is accentuated by the steepness and height of the mountains around them. Getting up and over those mountains seems impossible in their grief-stricken weariness.  But then he pointed out a truth I too am learning...when we are facing mountains, we are more in tune with our own insufficiencies and inabilities and are more ready to ask for, understand, and bear witness to God's goodness and power and love.  He finished his comments with this psalm:

"I lift up my eyes to the hills--

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

the maker of heaven and earth."  (Psalm 121:1-2)

   This short psalm concludes with the promise that the Lord will watch over us both now and forever.    The word "watch" or "watches" is used five times in the span of six verses.  What does this mean?  God knows and cares.  He will watch over Mark's children.  He will watch over each of us who look  for help when the mountains surround us.  After all, out of the mountains comes the help.