Marcus' Legacy

Funerals are never easy. First, they are painful reminders we are mortal. Second, someone's company has been lost as we know it. Heck, even grumpy folks have someone for whom they were good company. Little did I know a funeral would be an encounter that would challenge me to reconsider my own tendency to judge.

Marcus Standish was the son of Steve and Glenna Standish, owners of a client company and fine folks to boot. He was one, who by earthly expectations, too young to go. He was only 21. As each of us is unique in his or her own way, so too was Marcus. Quick to smile or laugh, deeply and authentically, Marcus was a lover of life, AND of each of the people who were part of the tapestry of his relatively short life.

The cast of individuals who made up Marcus' life was diverse. Some might argue a bit more diverse than he could manage effectively. Yet, Marcus's legacy is just that - he did not try to manage or control people. He enjoyed the heck out of their company - right where they were when he met them. Executives, addicts, classmates, co-workers, Special Olympians, accomplished athletes, children, adults, brilliant, clueless . . . . didn't matter. He enjoyed the company of the entire lot. If ever anyone modeled unconditional love, Marcus would be near the top of that list.

What Marcus may have lacked in effective boundaries, he made up for with authenticity. As alluded to above, some who knew him well might argue the absence of those boundaries were part of Marcus' somewhat bumpy road in life. Perhaps so. However, at least one other perspective deserves additional consideration. What if time with Marcus, his sometimes painful, hard-fought, short journey not withstanding, introduced a glimpse of the only one who can make life make sense - Jesus - to someone he loved with those imperfect boundaries? Take it to the house that someone who knew Marcus Standish will never be the same again, for that encounter, and only God knows where HE (God) might take the time spent with Marcus for that person (or persons).

I, for one, will NEVER forget an act at Marcus' funeral so steeped in unconditional love it was almost hard for me to take in. It shined such a bright light on how judgmental and critical I have been (and sadly will likely be again) that it made my stomach turn inside out - for all the right reasons - it convicted me to the core. The act was breathtaking in its depth.

As guests were seated, the diverse crowd of Marcus' friends and acquaintances who were not biologically related occupied a portion of the crowd near the front on one side. They, like those directly related to him, were clearly grief-stricken at a deep, deep level. Sadly, I have been to at least one other funeral in a church for an individual who had diverse cast of friends. And, in that instance, observed more than a few questioning the very presence of those friends at the funeral. Not here - not at a funeral for Marcus. His enduring legacy was about to show itself in a daring, mind and heart-bending manner.

After a time, the pastor asked if anyone from the audience would like to speak regarding Marcus, or the occasion. One of those who would rise to speak was Glenna, Marcus' mother, to whom Marcus was so dear (as is Mason her other son). She began by thanking the entire crowd for their attendance. However, her first specific comments were directed purposely to Marcus' grieving assembly of friends. Though sad, likely beyond description, Glenna spoke with amazing calm as she said, "To those of you here who were Marcus' friends, I know Marcus loved you. He considered you his family just like he did me, his dad and his brother. And, while he and I did not always agree about some of you, he loved you - and that is enough for me. You will always be part of my family."

Did she just say what I think she said? Surely I was dreaming. Surely I did not hear a grieving mother, reach out to comfort those with whom she may have disagreed at times. I  floundered to take in what I believe was a mother, still in shock at her loss, yet not so much in shock she could not extend grace at a time when others might have spewed the venom of anger, or resentment, or looked for someone to blame; God, these friends, someone . . . anyone.

I was not dreaming. I did hear that. I did hear love, consolation, grace - the essence of Marcus' legacy begun in a few sentences to hurting young adults, also grieving the loss of his smile, from his mother!

Momentarily, as the realization hit me, I could hardly breathe. The white hot light of my petty judgments regarding others (friends and foes alike), critical comments and accusing stares and plain stupidity in failing to grasp the gift of the people who God himself has allowed to cross my path was searing, painful and surgically precise in touching my own proud heart. Had Marcus been able to see inside my stone heart during our few encounters, he might have said to me, "You're missing out Bart. Folks have a lot to give you - that judgment is killing you - and more importantly, them."

That episode, a mother's courage, willingness to admit her own faults in the midst of grief, love for those loved by Marcus - warts and all, and willingness to set aside her own feelings to share those of her dear son for his friends, mirror the love of the Savior Marcus was early in getting to know. Today, that love is perfected for Marcus. And, his legacy will live in the lives of others, some who will live forever with him, and HIM. Thank you Marcus for challenging me to be a better me. Thank you Glenna for showing me that being a parent means more than just giving instructions. It also means the humility to learn from our children.

Marcus Standish, indeed the road less traveled. Thank you Marcus!
 













However, tonight as I reflect on the priviledge of having known each, and those who loved them, what strikes me is how similar the legacy each leaves behind - love, attributes in each's character in an unusually strong manner, Evidence of the truth of the earliest verses of Genesis where God says He will create man in His image. Marcus and Sandy both left behind an example of what unconditional love looks like, in practical every day life.

Consider Sandy in this episode, 29 years ago. It was December 31st. Billy Joel was playing in Dallas. Single, I decided to bolt Abilene where I was living, come to Dallas unannounced to hit the concert and then spend the night with my high school friend and college roommate, Steve Mack and his bride of six months, Sandy (who he met at Abilene Christian, where we had been students). Yes, they were married, but we'd been friends, me and Steve for six years - he'd only known her four (yes, insert, Bart is a dork here). I knocked on the door and Sandy answered. "Hi, Bart," she said with some doubt in her voice and a strange look on her face. "Hi Sandy, Steve home," I asked like the trip had been planned for months. Steve's face popped into the opening of the door, he asked with some aggitation in his voice, "Bart, what are you doing in Dallas?"

The upshot? I was uninvited, expected to stay in their apartment, had forgotten it was Sandy's birthday (her first as a married woman). She graciously invited me in, said they'd be out but gave me the key, apologizing for not being able to entertain me. I was an idiot!!! (That only started to change recently, I am saddened to say). I spoke with Sandy, two weeks before she died - she was still gracious to me, and had been for each of the 29 years in between. Sandy loved me, and other people in one way - unconditionally, right where they were.

Here funeral was a collection of friends who had been touched by that love in many different, tangible ways. Her children spoke with amazing composure, given the circumstances, strengthened by the touch of her love. Love she got from knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was loved by Steve, and more importantly by the God who created her and gave His own son to bring that love to life in her.

Marcus, he was quite a young man. He truly never met a stranger. Marcus's greatest strength was he was fascinated by, friendly to, and willing to enjoy being with you, whoever you were; portfolio or penniless, profound or profane, postured or propped up - didn't matter to Marcus. He could, and would love you just the same. A quick smile, willing to share the shirt on his back, and interested in getting to know your story - regardless what it was, Marcus made people feel comfortable just being who they were at the time he met them.

Marcus's love, love that also came from having surrendered his big heart to the heart that never fails - Jesus - powered an act so outrageous today, I shall NEVER forget it. I will be challenged by it, more so that hundreds of sermons I have heard, if I live to be an old, old man. His mother, Glenna, stood before the audience. Though grief-stricken, she looked directly into the crowd at a group of young adults who were Marcus's friends and said something close to, "Marcus loved you all. You were his family. Me and Marcus did not always agree on who his friends were. And, even today, I will be honest, some of you make me nervous. But Marcus loved you. And that is enough for me. Me and Steve learned alot from Marcus about loving unconditionally. So today, thank you for being here, for loving Marcus. You are part of our family too."

I know Glenna Standish. She does not just throw words like "love" around. Her willingness to extend Marcus's love to everyone present spoke loudly about the legacy Marcus has left behind.

Tonight, I miss Sandy. I know Steve, their sweet kids and so many others do as well. I did not know Marcus as well, or as long, but I know he will be sorely missed for what his unconditional love could teach folks, even by those of us who did not know him nearly as well as Steve, Sandy and Mason. BUT, despite our sadness at their passing