Oak Cliff-O, Part 3a: Church Friends

Does it sound awkward to say…I have no brothers, but I have brothers?

Or what if I told you I had one sister, but I have many sisters?

It doesn’t add up, does it?

But it’s the truth.

******

Back in the late seventies, looking back on it now, my parents seemed to afford me beaucoup autonomy.

Especially at church.

It all started off in about fifth grade.  Yes, fifth grade when I still sometimes cried to sappy Barry Manilow songs about New England…and about a year after my friend, Kristi, came into my life.

    Kristi and I at my Grandparent's Farm (About Fourth or Fifth Grade)

Incidentally, Kristi and I were brilliant…and we had brilliant, left-handed ideas.

So we decided our parents would probably never find out if we skipped children’s choir.

There were only three of us in choir, anyway (Sorry, David B.).

So Kristi and I would roam the building.

We would open doors, walk up and down staircases, travel the echoing halls, and write silly, fifth-grade girl things about DC in the ladies restroom (Yes, mom, I lied about it.  Sorry to you, too.).

We would explore all the little rooms behind the baptistry.  All these little dressing rooms lined up in a row…so beige…with probably a few wire hangers hung up on various hooks here or there…or forgotten white smock things.  There were other rooms…with old choir props…like the obligatory, wooden manger…and there was the flower room…filled with the carcasses of plastic flowers sadly languishing in their coats of dust…no longer pretty or useful.

We normally had fresh flowers on Sunday morning after all.

And it was deliciously scary…this series of secret rooms.

Once, we thought we heard someone back there with us…and we were supposed to be in choir, so we hid.  We crouched down and tried to peer through the weird, bronze-colored metal, screen-like things which separated these rooms from the sanctuary…but never found out where the noise came from.

Maybe...it was a ghost.

More likely it was a rodent.

Then...at some other point and even better…we discovered the roof.

The stairs were nice and broad…as if the original builders intended them for real use.

But when we daringly, excitedly opened the propitiously unlocked door to uncover the stairwell...home to many a dust-bunny…we realized we may have been the only two ever to use these hidden stairs (at least for several hundred years).

It didn’t stop us.

We were brave.

So we climbed to find an opening to each floor…but after the third floor…the top floor…the stairs still climbed.

So we plunged onward…and we clattered out onto an extremely typical tar and gravel roof.

But it wasn’t so typical to us.

I’m pretty sure we barely noticed the commonplace tar and gravel…because the blue, blue sky ranged overhead….everything was out before us.

We were young, you see.

And the really miraculous thing about all of this freedom…was that so many of the doors were open.

 Kristi and I at Love Field - Around Seventh Grade

******

I can’t remember when Mark first started showing up on Sundays.

Duane would remember…because I think he and Mark (both a few years older than I) started making appearances about the same time.

In other words, I think they were already in college, but I can’t remember for sure.

I bet Shawn was responsible for inviting Duane…and Duane was responsible for inviting Mark.

But I really can’t recall…and it’s not terribly important.

Because this is about Mark.

By the way, I’m not sure how Mark became a Christ-Follower, but it was a big, noticeable character change for him…or at least it seemed to me from afar.

Later on I would learn Mark had scars.

His father died at a very young age, and I don’t think his mother was ever the same.

In fact, I know she wasn’t.

So these were a few of the things which bent and refined him…before I even knew him well.

 Then, one day, he went off to U.T.

He had always wanted to go to U.T. Austin…so this was a very big deal for him.

He would come home every summer…just like the rest of us who had scattered, and the old group would do things together…for several summers…for many years.

So we all knew each other to what felt like an exceedingly great extent.

And during this time many things happened including one of the most important of all.

Adulthood.

Afterward…at some point, I started to get tired a lot (even more than usual)…and couldn’t seem to commit to or get as excited about 'things' as some of my friends; subsequently I started to become a little more forgetful.  I would sometimes even forget I was supposed to meet someone somewhere and let them down.

The thing was…I would try to be conscientious and committed, but my job and a few other things like my relationship with Craig…seemed to be the only stuff I could handle with any consistency.

And it seemed like a few people…people I loved and admired…were disappointed in me.

Because, I guess, they were expecting me to be something I wasn’t or couldn’t be.

And I was disappointed in myself as well.

I wasn’t angry at myself; I was on the verge of angry…but life was continuing forward…it was relentless, and it wasn’t slowing down at this point enough I could actually fall into a real depression.

Thank God.

I later found out I had hypothyroidism which explained quite a bit…but that’s another story.

In the meantime (no matter how other people viewed me…or I perceived they viewed me), I never had to worry about Mark.

Because he would sometimes get tired himself.

In other words, he got it.

So, I guess, God placed him in my life…for a brief time…to give me someone who understood if I sometimes couldn’t give a lot.

Furthermore, I would say…I needed someone…someone who didn’t judge me…but hugged me as if his life depended on it…who would talk to me as if I had his respect…someone who seemed to need nothing but my friendship.

I’ve rarely ever experienced more acceptance than I did with Mark…my brother.

One night after Sunday evening church…fairly early on in our friendship…right on the cusp of adulthood…before I got so terribly tired it was noticeable…before I let people down…a bunch of us ended up at Pecan Grove Park (I think that’s the name).

And even though we were too old, we were on the playground…and it was late.

Some of us moved toward the merry-go-round.

We climbed up, hung on, pushed each other and whirled around…and people gravitated in and arced away as if we were our own little solar system.

But Mark and I remained.

And I brought up the subject of God.

And Mark lit up like a spark because he loved to talk about God…as did I.

So we whirled and leaned our heads back.

We talked and looked at the stars.

And I wish I could’ve bottled it and given it away…because it was one of those perfect moments…a moment not to be forgotten.

It was a moment of peace and acceptance.

It was a moment of looking out and looking in.

*******

At some point, our merry-go-round turned a little too fast, and we all drifted apart…gravity reversed and…scattered our stars further than it was possible to come back together.

And Mark left us.

He left us at a point in my life where I was so far from my point of origin…it was impossible for me to return for remembrance.

Yet I remembered alone and…Craig and I reminisced and grieved for our still-young friend…and the still-young family he left behind.

However, Mark left us with many sweet gifts…things which are free…but far, far from cheap.

Things which only a good, sincere man…living a good, sincere life…can give.

I’m so, so glad…somebody invited him to church.

  
Mark

Comments

[Laura]

Thank you, Marie! I don't remember about the move, but Craig did live with Mark for a few months at one point. You've got a good memory. :)

[Marie]

I could not stop reading your latest post about Mark. Isn't he the one who helped Craig with a move at one time. Also I believe he is the one who lived with Craig (or Craig lived with him for a time)? I may be wrong, but anyway as usual I loved the way you wrote it down so lovelingly. Marie

[Laura]

Kristi, I think you'll remember a little more if I add a few details. Do you remember when Love Field had a roller rink? I think we were at an end-of-year Y-Teen function. I think the farm picture was taken probably the first summer after we met. I loved to wade in the irrigation ditches...and we would sometimes find little specks of gold in the pebbles, so I was probably showing you how to sift through the rocks. We would also find flint and old arrowheads out at the farm, and I think you found a few really nice gray ones while we were there. I'm glad you liked it...you're a good friend in so many ways. :)

[Kristi Coleman]

Wow, love it all, Laura. I have no memory of those "awkward years" photos!! I wish there was some way for Mark's son to see that great photo and read your post. Thanks so much.

[Laura]

Thanks, Rachel. I think my dad took the picture of Mark, btw. When I found it...I felt like I hit the jackpot.

[Rachel Hoehn]

Laura this is great! Thank you for sharing your memories of Mark. He was a good friend and is still missed in our lives today. I liked the pictures too. :-)

[Laura]

Tom, I love this story...it's making me laugh. I have to say...it's pretty priceless.

Actually, thinking about church stories this week has once again reminded me of the time you almost fell through the roof of your church.

I'm glad you didn't. ;)

Thanks for adding to my story...I think remembering the funny things is as important as remembering the poignant.

[Laura]

You're welcome, TJ. Thank you for commenting. I feel I've been blessed with many precious friendships.

[Tom Rutledge]

I was actually relating a story about Mark earlier this week. He was a yr older than me. I was a freshman at Baylor and Mark came to Waco for the Weekend. Stays with me in Penland and we are going to meet friends for dinner. Remember,Baylor is not co-Ed but Mark is used to living in Jester -a major co-Ed haven in Austin.

Mark puts on his robe and grabs his towel and starts walking to the showers. Well, we Bears were not used to that because towels were never stolen, primary because there were no women on the halls. I explain to Mark that "it's safe" and we laugh about it. Fast forward a few months later and I stay with him in the aforementioned Jester. I go for a run before the football game and nonchalantly grab my towel and start sauntering down the hall, thinking of course, there are no girls anywhere. Well, whoa Nellie ( as Keith Jackson would say),there were LOTS of females and Mark laughed at me when I scrambled back to the room.

Hard to believe that will be 30 yrs ago. Mark and I weren't particularly close but it's a funny story that I won't soon forget

[TJ]

Thank you for sharing these sweet memories and honoring such a good friend.