Good Friday - Best Friends

Our family enjoyed a visit this week from a dear old friend from our days in Chicago. Pastor Martin baptized my girls when they were babies, a few months later we were on our way to a new life in the Pacific Northwest.

Born in Tacoma, my boys had never met Pastor Martin, but they'd all heard stories about this wonderful gentle man who marched sat behind 'Daddy King' at one of the organizing meetings for Operation Bread Basket, marched with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and still lives his life with the same principles of justice.

Coming in part to visit his cousin whose cancer had all but one the battle, Martin arrived on Tuesday for a short Holy Week visit. I came in the door that afternoon. Coming down the hall to greet me in his cardigan sweater, my dear old friend and pastor looked as kind and caring as Mr. Rogers. My heart warmed as memories and feelings came rushing back to me. Later that evening, I told my wife how I'd forgotten how much I love that man.

As we all came and went during the day, we'd all find ourselves at the table for dinner each night. Taking time each night to engage each of the children about their various activities during the day, he'd lean down to meet their eyes taking great interest in what they had to say. After he was satisfied that he'd heard enough from each of them, he'd then turn to ask Whitney and me. "Now, we can hear from the adults," he'd say as he sat upright again.

To our surprise and delight, our youngest, and usually most reticent around adults, seemed completely comfortable with this person he'd never met. Martin would listen to Andrew read prayers from a children's' prayer book he'd given the kids as a gift. Andrew would listen as
Martin explained why he'd named his own son Andrew or how scared he was when he was walking and singing with Dr. King, and people started throwing rocks at them.

As we took turns around the table during Maundy Thursday worship, it was Martin who got down on his knees and tenderly held Andrew's little feet in his hands as he poured water over them remembering Jesus' words, "as I have served you, I tell you now to serve one another."

As Whitney tucked him in last night, Andrew told her, "Pastor Martin is my best friend who is an adult."

Martin was heading to the airport this morning while we were all headed to school and work. Andrew and I drove him to meet his ride to the airport and then said our goodbyes in a 7-11 parking lot. "As he hugged my little boy tightly, Martin joyfully said, "I'll be back to visit and I'll bring Peg, my wife."

We pulled away in our separate cars, and Andrew asked from his seat behind me, "is Pastor Martin coming back this summer?" I adjusted the rear view mirror as I usually do when I'm talking to him. "No, maybe next winter, after Christmas," I said.

Andrew turned to look out the window, but could see that he wasn't really looking at anything in particular. Like me, he was already missing our friend Martin. "I don't' want to go to school today," he said quietly. I asked him, "are you feeling sad?" He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head. "It's OK to be sad when you miss someone."

It was all I said, but I wasn't sure if it was for him or for me. It was one of our more quiet rides to school. Holding our memories, sharing our love and grief in silent communion.

This morning, I watched my son say "goodbye" to his 'best friend who is an adult.' Today is Good Friday. It makes sense somehow, but I wish it didn't.