St. Luke's United Methodist Church - Masters Family Mission

Dear Friends,

Early in April Mark and I had a lively discussion about how we would collaborate to construct our spring, 2006 newsletter. I had just participated in a training event for Deaconesses and a series of interviews for Young Adult volunteers, Mark was in between significant international travel. He had visited Northern Ireland in the winter and planned to continue visiting missionaries in South and Central Asia in May. We laughed at the challenge we faced one more time, as Mark’s style was to leave it until the last minute upon his return(our goal was to mail the letters out in the middle of May), and mine was to begin weeks in advance and edit and amend as the days unfolded. Of course, in our compromise I began the letter and he was to finish upon his return in mid-May. I have just been reading those paragraphs I wrote in early May as I prepare to send you the first newsletter after Mark’s sudden death in Nepal on 14 May 2006. Life changes so immensely, and is so very fragile, isn’t it, dear friends? The time since his sudden death has been a time of extreme grief and pain and yet also a time of great grace and comfort. I want to share with you all, many who have been prayerful supporters of our family from the beginning of our international mission in 1988, share the grace I have been blessed with as well as the immense loss. I have included a page of photos of Mark, taken in the last year of his life. I pray you will celebrate the vibrant life that he possessed until the very moment of his passing, and celebrate with me the gift that was his life to all of us.

Mark had long been anticipating a trip to Central and South Asia as part of his responsibility as Regional Executive for Europe, North Africa, Middle East and Central and South Asia. He appreciated the commitment of the missionaries who worked in this politically and spiritually challenging context and he was eager to accompany them briefly on their path. He planned a three week trip, returning in time for Matthew’s high school graduation on the 25th of May. We had been “tag-teaming” between New York and Nashville for about a year, overlapping in either for a week or two each month. We were looking forward to selling our home after Matthew went to Oxford College in August, and redefining our lives again in New York. I left New York at 3Am on 28th of April, to get home in time for Senior Prom night. Mark left for India, Afghanistan, and Nepal on the 30th. I received a birthday card from him after he left and had little indication that this would be the first of many wonderful gifts I received after I last was with him. It was a funny card, and promised we would celebrate together in the same place before long. Once again, upon reflecting about our last times together, I realize that God truly prepares us for what we encounter.

My birthday fell on a Saturday this year and I spent the morning on the phone chatting with family and friends. Late in the morning the phone rang and I answered, to hear a jovial rendition of “Happy Birthday” from Mark. I was so surprised, as he had never phoned me when he was traveling. I had received sporadic emails, and knew he was well, but it was really a marvelous gift to hear his voice! We spoke of his first two weeks in India and Afghanistan, and how he was in Tansen, Nepal with Dr. Elma Jocson, a missionary physician posted at a hospital compound about thirteen hours from Kathmandu. He was excited and spoke of eating buffalo meatballs, sharing wonderful fellowship with Elma and the staff. At least once he said: “I am so glad I came here. This has been a most wonderful trip”. We caught up on the escapades of our sons: Christian being promoted to specialty service on the cruise ship he was working on in Hawaii and Matthew’s last rugby game that was in a cold rain, which to him was a muddy celebration. We closed saying it wouldn’t be long before we would be home together.

At 4:27AM on Sunday, the 14th of May, I was awakened by the phone. With so many family members in so many time zones I ran and answered. Rev. Stephen Goldstein, who is our immediate supervisor and a dear friend, was on the phone. He asked if I was sitting down, and then told me Mark had suffered a massive heart attack and was gone, just after having phoned me the day before. Somehow, even though those words were softly spoken with great care, I knew with certainty that Mark had indeed died. I woke Matthew and we headed to Memphis, to Mark’s mother and to the home church where Mark and I had married twenty-four years ago, baptized the boys, and had accompanied us on our journeys and homecomings. The phone seemed to ring unceasingly, the friends seemed to arrive and fill some of the absence that was still so shocking. Their alarm and shock somehow verbalized for me what I was unable to put words to.

I want to tell you about three of the many “gifts” I received after Mark’s death. These gifts of grace have comforted and consoled me, have enabled me to celebrate the twenty-five years we shared, the joys, passions, challenges, and pain. These gifts came from persons I have never met but who offered me more than a glimpse of Mark’s last moments:

The first was a four page email from Dr. Maurice Lee, a colleague of Elma Jocson from New Zealand who served as an anesthesiologist at the hospital in Tansen. He had just met Mark the evening before at dinner, yet he indicated that something Elma said casually morning made him want to visit Mark at the guest house where Mark was resting. Mark had earlier complained of indigestion, and Maurice had a feeling that he should check, so he did. He found Mark reading A Fine Balance, by Rohinton Mistry... Mark put a bookmark in the place where he had just read and indicated to Dr. Lee that although he was feeling a bit better, the antacids had not worked all that well. Dr. Lee noticed that Mark was a bit clammy and suggested they walk down to the hospital to rule out anything more significant. A cardiogram indeed indicated an impending or evolving cardiac event, and Dr. Lee called to his colleague, Dr. Lawrie McArthur, the doctor on duty at the ER. At this time Mark began to lose consciousness and was placed on a gurney. Dr. Lee noticed as he lost consciousness that Mark intentionally clasped his hands upon his chest, as if in prayer. Within ten minutes Mark was dead. He had experienced no pain, was not worried, and Dr. Lee related in the email that it appeared an aneurysm had burst and that death would have probably been the result no matter where Mark had been. Dr. Lee relates that the time that had elapsed from the time he arrived at the guest house to visit Mark and Mark’s passing was only about thirty-five minutes, and less than ten minutes from his collapse to his death... Later that day, Dr. Lee went back to the guest house to assist with the gathering of Mark’s things. He looked at the novel Mark was reading, A Fine Balance, a novel that tells of a young tailor nicknamed Om and his uncle, Ishvar, who are employed in a city in India far away from their home, and who work very long hours, are treated poorly, and earn barely enough to pay for the sewing machine rental. Dr. Lee noticed the last words Mark had read:

Ishvar’s face clouded, his disfigured cheek quivering
with his nephew’s pain. He put his arm around his shoulder.
‘It will get better, Om”, he pleaded. ‘Believe me, it will get
better. And we will soon go back to our village.’

Dr. Lee went on to explain that Ishvar is a variation of a word use for God in Nepal. What a comfort these words have been, as a message of reassurance. I hear them as God’s encouragement to both Mark and I, that we will soon go back to our village. I also wonder that God has been so gracious to me to provide me with a person who was so observant and thoughtful and shared such detail about Mark’s last moments. The last minutes of Mark’s life were so thoughtfully preserved, and the boys and I have no doubts or worries about what occurred in those moments of Mark’s passing, and how is death celebrated truly his life.

The second gift came from Dr. Lawrie McArthur, who was caring for Mark in the ER. In a beautiful book of handmade paper that the mission team in Tansen sent me, everyone who had spent time with Mark during his visit, in Kathmandu and Tansen, shared their recollections. They indicated he had been an enthusiastic and appreciative guest, and seemed to value the contribution each one of the expatriates and nationals were making. As you might imagine, I cherish these pages and would like to share Dr. McArthur’s words with you:

"I believe that God lead Mark to Tansen, to die, doing what he loved and did best- reaching out to others in the name of Christ. Let me tell you a story that illustrates my conviction.

My gardener, Laxmi, is a high caste Brahmin, who had just finished mourning for her husband. Now her life is totally depressing, burdened, and entangled in doing “puja” to ensure her husband gets a better life. Although her grief is raw, because of Mark’s death, we were able to share the hope and joy, as Christians we have, because Jesus Christ has already overcome the darkness of death.

As Maurice [Lee} and I worked on treating, and then resuscitating Mark, the rapid progression of signs showed this was a catastrophic Event. And God’s hand was over the whole situation, His Spirit omnipresent, giving a peacefulness, a knowledge at that prompted me to pray and say: “Farewell, brother, go in peace.” Mark was not in a foreign country, scared or alone. In fact, quite the opposite."

Well, the days have continued to bring such gifts, as well as the grief. Most of the time I am doing “okay”. I am keeping busy with training and preparing for Matthew’s great exodus to Oxford College at Emory. I miss Mark terribly, he was such a large person, and a huge part of who I am, personally and professionally, and he was such a gift to everyone we knew in the US and abroad. I am taking one day at a time, and trying to be honest in my walk in God’s light. I am so very grateful for every note I have received because through those words I have learned so much about Mark since his death. He was a remarkable man, and I know he cherished each of you, and the contribution you made to his life.

Let me tell you about the photos. The upper left is the Hill of Crosses in Lithuania. He traveled Russia and Eastern Europe with Rev. Edith Gleaves last year, and had remarked about the impact of the vast array of simple and ornate crosses. On the right is a candid of Mark in his office in New York City. Clean-shaven, for one of the few weeks I have known him! In the center is a photo of Mark and Angie Miller who serves in Northern Ireland, taken in the winter of 2006. He was so touched by the work Angie was doing, the challenges she was facing as a Mission Intern, and the community in which she was serving. In March, Mark’s mother had hip replacement surgery in Memphis. Mark was able to spend two weeks with the family, the bottom photo is of Mark having a conversation, probably about the stock market or other news, with his nephew. Somehow, even though Mark was huge, there was a softness that infants and small children embraced. The remaining two photos were from the trip Mark was in the midst of when he died. The top photo is in India, and the bottom left is another “gift”. More than a month after Mark’s death, when I had received his personal belongings, I developed the film on two disposable cameras that Mark routinely took on his trips. The photo on the left was taken in Delhi, at a monument in honor of Mahatma Ghandi. The message on the plaque seems to be fitting for Mark as well, and is the message I hope you receive from Mark as well

I am in the midst of US-2 training, with eight amazing young people who will go out throughout the US and I know they will bless everyone they encounter. I can heartily say to them that God will prepare them for the tasks set before them, and that their message is their life. I plan to take personal time from August through the end of year, to grieve and restore and recover. I will be in Nashville, although I am not certain what that time holds for me, I will be in touch before the year’s end. I know my life is unfolding in new and different ways, in God’s service, and with a joyful, if heavy, heart. Again, thank you for the comfort and encouragement you have provided to me and our entire family as we grieve our loss with Mark’s death and celebrate the gift that was Mark’s life, Mark’s message.

Agape,
Kathleen