Preaching to the Chorus Line: Part I

Keep in time. You're doing fine.

In Memoriam... Marty Osten

Marty Osten, he was a Chicagoan. So, we'll call him “MO” for short. I know Marty and I know his MO. You see, he came from the same place I do. 

I shared in his struggles. Sometimes, every day was a struggle. I shared his triumphs. There can never be too many of those. I watched Marty shoot for the stars, and accept something much closer to ground floor reality. Yes, Marty and I, we come from the same place. 

Marty had his heart broken by a woman who he still loved. He carried her picture with him everywhere he went. He'd pull it out and look at it once in a while to remind himself that the love was worth the pain. Yes, it's true, Marty and I come from the same place.

Marty was a computer guy back before the dot-com bubble burst, and though he was outpaced by technology, he never grew tired of the chase. Sometimes all we have to live on is faded glory from yesterday's race. Yup, Marty and I come from the same place.

There were many times I would find Marty at the library, and he'd have his aging laptop and connected external drives splayed out before him like a personal corporate network. He'd developed an amazing system to file all his stuff that never took him where he wanted to go. Marty and I, we're from the same place. Yes, we are.

He struggled with addictions. He was a decent man. I'd lend him five or ten bucks when he needed it, and he always paid it back. He was a humble man who wasn't afraid to share his doubts and fears. That's something I will miss about Marty. We shared a bond of trust deeper than I can share here, because Marty and I we came from the same place.

Once in awhile, we'd talk about the place we come from in whispers because it was a public library and people might take offense. Marty was sensitive to others, and he wanted to be well liked. In all his strengths and all his frailties, in all his superhuman dreams and all his humanity, Marty and I come from the same place... just like the rest of you gathered here today. 

We all come from the same place and we will surely all return to Him. That place is God, and Marty he just fell asleep on the ride.

Sleep tight Marty, we'll be joining you soon.

My Friend Sharon

I spent some time today helping a great friend and Sister in Christ. Her name is Sharon, and she was moving from her home to her home. I know that is redundant, but that's what she was doing and I was helping her put it all together. Putting it all together is what we do when we move after taking it all apart. That's the evolution of moving from home to home. We take the old apart and rebuild it all anew, only the location changes… or maybe there is more to this moving thing that we should consider.

Moving can be frustrating, intimidating, and stressful in more ways than we can ever be prepared for, since no matter how well we plan our move, there are always the actions of others which we cannot predict or even comprehend after the fact. However, a move from home to home can also be fun, exhilarating, and filled with hope for something better than we had before. In most cases, that is why we move, we are more pleased with the potential of the new home and all that it offers, such as; community, schools, property appreciation potential, and comfort over the old home.

My friend Sharon had a beautiful home, the first she ever owned, which held many fond memories within its walls.

• Our coffee and cigarette times on the front porch
• Our Bible studies in the living room
• The times she and I wept for (many) joys and (a few) sorrows
• Our granola disaster in the kitchen
• Here compulsive vacuuming throughout
• Our landscaping conundrums in the yard
• Her indecision and my vexation

Those are just the ones I had the pleasure of enjoying with her, and I am just one of her many loving friends and family.

There were also some more recent, not so heart-warming memories which I will gladly fail to enumerate herein. These along with all the positive things is what helped her decide to move forward from home to home.

I pray that she will soon discover that the wonderful memories from which she avulsed herself  are no longer held within the walls of the home she left behind because they made the move with her. As for the unpleasant ones, I pray that she will leave them to die in the cellar of the past where they belong. Amen.

The past is that which we leave behind, the present is that which we carry, and the future is where we're going with…  all the taped and labeled boxes, wrapped China, bundled pictures, the stuff we know we took but will never find, and most importantly all the perfectly preserved and safely packed beautiful things we've been a part of before we left home for home.