Sunday Morning, East Village 10:52 AM
The room is dim, the air is slightly cool, and the music is serene. It’s my first time in this place. I look down at the card in my lap as the offering baskets are passed around and make their way to my row. In the provided blanks on the Connect Card, I write in my name, my email address, my phone number. I get to the Serving Team section and my hand hovers over Youth. I can’t explain why or what, but I feel that I need to check this box. It’s been almost three years since I’ve led a group of middle school girls and since then I transitioned to serve international students at the collegiate level. Rather than question it, I tick the box for Youth just as the offering basket comes by and drop it in. Monday Night, Upper West Side 1:34 AM It’s another one of those nights, ideas whirring, gratitude growing, anticipation brimming, no sleep. Cannot sleep. I try turning to face another direction, I try switching the direction of my entire body, I try adding pillows and taking them away. Still unable to grasp any sense of physical rest, I recognize that my mind is entirely energized and awake. Reluctantly, I stand up, grab my Surface, and start to type. Suddenly the words and ideas that were racing in my mind slow and translate into coherent sentences on a page. The result is a piece called “If I Died Today”. No time for revisions or rereading, because just like that rest falls on me and I am able to find sleep. Wednesday Morning, Midtown 9:48 AM An email in my inbox appears from a fellowship group leader I am connected with from the church I went to on Sunday. In it, he shares a recent reflection on his friend who had unexpectedly passed away in his sleep days earlier. He reminds us that we are never promised tomorrow. We are never promised tomorrow. I say thank you for that reminder, that it is something I have already been thinking about this week. Interesting timing. Fellowship group is so refreshing, and the next day I send my leader another email thanking him for organizing and hosting. With that email I send him my midnight musing “If I Died Today”, to which he responds “you will find your writing is oddly timely”. Interesting timing. I reply, “PTL”*. I don’t press for the details, but my belief and faith that God’s timing is always good is strengthened. Sunday Morning, East Village 10:52 AM The room is dim, the air is slightly cool, and the music is serene with a touch of somber. I’m back at Trinity Grace Church this morning. I arrive slightly late, so I catch the last song and the pastor goes up to speak. Maybe it’s just me, but people ahead of me seem to stand closer together, seeking connection in closeness. When I catch their gaze, the look in their eyes seems to be searching, seeking answers for something. Pastor Guy (yes, Guy is really his name) clears his throat and looks into the gathering of people. What he says hits me like a ton of bricks. “As many of you, Mark passed away unexpectedly on Wednesday. He was our youth pastor.” As I type this, I feel the same wave of shock and clarity that I felt in that moment. Lord, I hear you. Throughout Guy’s sermon, people of the church who knew Mark well have to leave the room because they just can’t take it. They never leave alone. Each time someone in the church will follow right after them to provide comfort, maybe not even words, but just their presence saying I’m here with you. It is beautiful. During the closing worship songs, I see people hugging, holding one another, honoring solidarity. It is beautiful. Then at the very end Mark’s wife asks to impart some words with us. It is beautiful. She is beautiful. This moment is beautiful. In it I hear God’s still small voice say, this is home. Wednesday Afternoon, East Village 1:36 PM A life lived intentionally. Someone who was 100% humorous and yet 100% serious about life. Always put others first. A human truly unafraid of death. These are the words they used to describe Mark. People dressed in black come up one by one to give eulogies, family members, friends, forepersons – from three different communities that he contributed all his energy to. These are the words that I hope people would use to describe me, in passing or in passing. Though I will never have the chance to meet Mark on this side of eternity, I will live like he did. Hoping that just like those who met Jesus through him, others might meet Jesus through me. *PTL stands for Praise the Lord. It also happens to stand for the Passion Tea Lemonade drink at Starbucks. I happen to use the acronym interchangeably. Always know your context.
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