Sunday, April 02, 2006

The march back to respective locales of service is on; some have returned, some are on their way. Now the reality sets in and the onslaught of time on this side of the funerals and memorials these past few weeks promise some gut-wrenching evaluation and processing. Friends disperse, but are not gone. In fact we are present now before one another in ways we could have never dreamed possible.

I know I am a changed man on the inside. I dare not speak much to it this early because the corpus of this regeneration is nebulous and needs formation. Intentionality and time will ensure its shape. It needs to be honed by the wisdom of fellow travelers and the abiding mercies of revered confidantes.

Ever taken a fresh flat sheet for the bed and snap it out in the air just above the surface of the mattress and watch it gently descend and alight upon the bed? That's the kind of release I felt descend Thursday from our commemoration of Palmer, in that some measure of fulness from the finished earthly life of Mark was being commuted to us, to feel that covering and to be warmed by it.

But I suspect that Mark knew that gentle heat is a consuming fire at its can and shall find its way forward in the type of living that exudes a magnetic and approachable, reckless abandon for Kingdom things. That was the way of Christ in Mark's life that is still pouring itself out.