Tuesdays with Mark

As I see it…
Tuesdays with Mark. For several years, Toni opened her kitchen and laundry room to her bachelor brother on Tuesday evenings. Since Mark would show up earlier than we would get home, he had a key to get in, start his laundry, turn on ESPN and generally make himself at home until we arrived. That pattern lasted quite a while until another sister in the area offered an “every other Tuesday” routine to help out. These supper times with my brother-in-law turned out to be interesting in many ways. Mark could be quite moody (can’t we all!) at times. So our conversations would be determined many times by his state of being. He basically had two passions: sports and spaghetti. He was strongly opinionated about both! There was an occasion when his sister tried to take him on about why the Phillies won their first divisional series in decades: Phillies came on too strong or the Mets choked? It was a vibrant discussion! I was proud of my little wife taking on her, ahem, louder brother, but alas, he was too vociferous for her. As I remember it, they were having this discussion sitting at the table opposite one another over a plate of spaghetti. I kept my head down and concentrated on the pasta. No matter the subject though, you never won an argument with Mark; he just knew he was always right. At least it provided for a little mix occasionally for our dinner time conversations. There was one exception to Mark’s “rightness.” We had a pattern of finishing off dinner time by reading a chapter from the Bible. We started with the Gospels, went through the book of Acts and then started on Psalms. After almost each reading, Mark would ask thoughtful questions or make interesting observations. That would generally lead to some healthy exchange of conversation about biblical content. Mark came to Christ just a few years ago. For him it was a long, difficult and private journey. He realized he wasn’t an expert in the Bible, so he was willing to ask questions. Mark’s health declined rapidly in his last few months; he went to be with the Lord a few weeks ago. I was at his hospital bedside his last afternoon on earth and prayed with him. Mark always appreciated prayers on his behalf, saying a quick, quiet, “Thanks, Keith.” Our Tuesday evenings are once again our own. And, no matter how the Phillies do this year, I won’t be able to eat a plate of spaghetti again without thinking about Mark…and the Gospels, and Acts, and…