As he prepared to exit the plane, Marcus thought how much he hated flying.  He didn’t fear flying; he just didn’t like the flying routine – the flight schedules, the waiting, the boarding, and the people trying to remain impersonal in a tight space.  The only good thing he could think of was that he only had one more weekend of flying between Chicago and Raleigh.  His homecoming had gone well and with just a few more ends to tidy up, he would be back home for good.  Not only that, he was also doing what he knew he was meant to do – pastoring.  Still, flying between the two cities was an unwelcome part of the transition.  At least on this flight he was able to fall asleep shortly after take-off.  More importantly he was able to dream; to have that wonderful dream in which he is with her.

Marcus Austin thought of himself as an everyday kind of guy.  He had average looks with potential he told himself.  This meant with the right clothes and haircut he was as dashing as Denzel and with the wrong clothes and haircut – well he preferred not to be noticed on those days.  His style was conservative and manly.  He believed that clothes do make a statement about the wearer.  He tried to always be aware of what his clothes said about him as a preacher.  Marcus liked order and he liked rules.  Even if he broke the rule, he appreciated the order the rule was intended to invoke.  More than anything, Marcus cared about people.  And because he knew his care was genuine, it gave him an inviting confidence that made people feel welcomed and comfortable in his presence.  Marcus was a people person and most people liked having him around.

Unfortunately, being a people person had not proven to be beneficial to Marcus when it came to matters of the heart.  He had spent the last twelve years of his life in two long term relationships that could have resulted in marriage and one very brief relationship that ended with an even briefer marriage.  Although the two long term relationship ended without the placing of any blame, Marcus sometimes felt that the relationships deteriorated because in someway he was absent.  Although he was caring, romantic, and knew how to give in a relationship, he always felt that a part of him never showed up.  A part of him always sat out and didn’t participate in or acknowledge the love he felt.  Part of him was rebelling.  Part of him was waiting.  Part of him needed something he hadn’t found yet.  Part of Marcus was searching.  Marcus hadn’t figured out which part of him was searching, nor did he know what it was searching for.

The short marriage was the result of Marcus ignoring the rebellion, the waiting, and the searching.  His wife was adorable and loving.  If Marcus made a list of the things he believed he wanted in a wife, she was many of them.  Marcus married her because he loved her and believed she would make someone a good wife.  In the end, Marcus realized that he was only pretending to be that someone.  As a husband, he was a good provider; very supportive – and absent.  More and more, she sensed that they were somehow not connected.  Marcus found himself trying to be a good husband while not being very good at marriage.  So, when she had had enough (and enough came quickly), he knew that ending it was the right thing to do.  When it ended, that part of him that rebels was relieved.

Marcus made a few short calls as he heading towards the car rental agencies.  Primarily the calls were to let family and friends know he had arrived and when they could expect to see him.  In the middle of making dinner plans with his brother Delvin, Marcus suddenly became silent.  He turned and stared at the moving crowd of people.

“Hello? Are you still there? Mark?  Mark?” Delvin inquired over the phone.

“Yeah, I’m still here.” Marcus finally replied.  “I thought I saw someone I knew.  I was trying to find them again in the crowd”

“Who was it?”

“Huh?”

“Who was it you saw?”

“Oh, nobody”

“You thought you saw nobody and stopped talking? Boy, you’re crazy.  I’ll see you at six o’clock”

“Alright, I’ll see you then”

“Hey, who’s driving –me or you”

“I don’t care.”

“What kind of car are you renting? 300?”

“Not this time.  I’m actually getting a truck.  I have to move some stuff”

“Never mind.  I’ll drive.  See ya”

Marcus ended the call with his brother.  Delvin was his best friend and normally, he would spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes either reflecting on a childhood memory or thinking about the fun they would have at dinner.  However, his mind now was debating whether or not he saw who he thought he saw.  He was pretty sure it was her not just because the face seemed familiar, but also because a mistaken identity couldn’t make him feel the way he did at that moment.  It was the feeling he recognized more than the face.  It was a feeling he had not defined or given a name.  It was a feeling that only occurred when he saw her.  Perhaps ‘occurred’ is the wrong word.  The feeling arose more than occurred.  It is as if the feeling is always present, just subdued.  Whenever Marcus sees her, the feeling swells and takes over.  Marcus knew that for the next three or four days, she would be all he could think of.  He didn’t know why.  After three or four days, he would forget all about it.  Well, perhaps “forget’ is also the wrong word.  In a few days, he would subconsciously suppress the feeling.  It wouldn’t go away, however.  It was part of that something.

 

Tonya Fulmont always had contentment as a goal.  For her, being content provided an escape from stress and pressure.  She viewed life as an unmovable reality that presented only two choices.  1) Accept life as it is for what it is; or 2) hope to change the unchangeable and avoid the unavoidable.  Contentment was safe and even sometimes happy.  Tonya was content with moving to Chicago.  She was content with leaving her family in North Carolina.  She was content to leave a job she loved so Ryan, her husband, could take his dream job.

If Tonya had to mark the driving force in her life she would have to make a choice between duty and control.  She did know that she could blame either on her father.  Her father was a proud military man who brought his work and bearing home and didn’t hesitate to share it with the family.  Tonya had fulfilled her duty as daddy’s little girl, a straight A student, college grad, career woman, and, for the last 12 years, mother and wife.  When not motivated by duty, Tonya was inspired by control.  She liked order and everything in its place.  She would say that she didn’t like surprise, while the truth was she feared being surprised by disappointment.  Sometimes she mixed control with independence, making disappointment a less likely occurrence.

It could be thought that Tonya’s control and independence would have keep away suitors and marriage proposals.  However, as unappealing as her independence may have been to some, it was more than compensated for by her charm and beauty.  She was secretive in a way that made her intriguing and kind enough to be angelic.  To say that she was pleasant to look at would be an absolutely correct statement.  Tonya’s beauty was comforting and soothing.  Like it had many men, it instantly attracted Ryan.  It was her ability to run on auto-pilot without him that intrigued him the most.  His career as sportswriter meant late hours and long trips.  He knew he could count on Tonya to do her duty while he was away from home.

Ryan had been in Chicago for the last three weeks settling into his new job and finding a new house.  The opportunity had come sudden and he had to move quickly.  This was the second weekend Tonya was leaving their daughter, Stacey, with her parents so she could go to be with Ryan.  He had said that the weekends would be like a second honeymoon.  Nothing about the move to Chicago seemed like a honeymoon to her, though.  It was hard to have control while going through so much change.  Tonya wanted control.

Tonya was just about to turn off her cell phone to board the plane when it rung.  It was Ryan.

“Guess where I am!” he almost shouted

“In Chicago where I’ll be soon”

“Of course, but where in Chicago?”

“At work?”

“No”.

“The apartment?” Ryan had rented a small apartment while looking for a house.

“No, no, no.  I’m in the big, gorgeous house that I believe will be our new home.  Wait until you see it.  Baby, you’re gonna love it”

“I’ll see it when I get there.  You sure are excited.  Can I see it tonight?”

“I don’t know.  A story is breaking about a running back who… never mind.  You wouldn’t know what I’m taking about.  Anyway, I may have to work for about an hour.  Just an hour, baby.  Okay?”

“That’s fine.  I’ll see you when I get there.”

“Okay.  Love you”

“Love you, too.  Bye.”

Tonya was not in control.

 

The moment Marcus walked into the house his mother began her inquiry into his well-being in general and his appetite specifically.  After kissing and ensuring her that he was fine and would eat later, he headed to the den to chat with dad.  He instinctively knew his dad would be in the den because it was NBA playoff time.  Dad would be in his favorite chair with a glass of his favorite drink – cherry Kool-Aid.  Marcus teased his dad that it was a good thing that stuff was not alcoholic.  He would hate to think of what his childhood would have been like with a father strung out on Kool-Aid.  His dad didn’t think that was funny.

Around his father Marcus toggled between being a grown man and a small boy.  He enjoyed both feelings.  His father made him feel there was a whole world left for him to explore.  He hung on to every word of wisdom his father offered regardless of how many times he had heard.  His father also talked about things Marcus was more of an authority on.  His father listened intently to Marcus’ opinions and give approving nods at just the right time.  Marcus knew that he didn’t always do as his father hoped, but his father was proud of him none the less.  Marcus loved and needed the times they talked man to man.

Marcus found it interesting how his dad approached subjects or broke news.  He could tell by his father’s choice of words just how much his parents were in agreement.  If they were in perfect agreement or his father’s opinion had won out, his father just got to the point.  If his mother had persuaded his father, his father would start off with “Your mother and I …” If there was no agreement and his mother’s opinion had won out, his father would start off with “Your mother seems to think…”  So when the conversation started Marcus could imagine how theirs had gone.

“Your mother and I think that maybe you shouldn’t sell your company.  You built it up and now you’re just giving it away”

“Dad, I’m selling it.  Not giving it away.  I’m getting money – a lot of it – for it.”

“But, son, was selling it the only option?”

“Dad, I didn’t want a responsibility like that in Chicago and I wanted to be free to work at the church and not worry about anything.”

“That’s another thing.  Your mother seems to feel you rushed to take that pastoral position.  You know how church folk can be.  She don’t want them beating up on her son”

“I did rush to it.  It was a wonderful opportunity to come back home and work in a community I used to live in.  And they have the same type of church folk at First Baptist.  Mom sits beside them every Sunday.  If she can sit beside them, then I can preach to them.”

“I hear, son, but your mother.  She gets an idea in her head and wham.  Can’t nothing else get there.”

“Yeah, and I wonder where she gets the idea from in the first place.”

Marcus had actually done very well with the sell of his company.  He had arrived in Chicago to accept a job with a technical writer for a research firm.  A friend who was opening a diner asked Marcus to help with an ad for the paper.  Marcus suggested the slogan “Diner is ready.  Home can wait”.  This struck a cord with young and single commuters, and business boomed.  The friend contributed the success to the slogan.  Others started tapping into his creativity and pretty soon Marcus was a hot commodity with companies looking for slogans that were hip but not clichés.  His real talent was in helping companies market to minorities without being stereotypical.  Interesting enough, Marcus had been successful without any advertising of his own.  He had kept the company relatively small and was selective about his clientele.  His company could have perhaps grown even bigger if Marcus could have come up with creative slogan for 40’s and malt liquor.  He couldn’t.  When the opportunity arose to move back home, it wasn’t hard to find a buyer for his small company.  In a couple of weeks the deal will be final for a little under 7 figures.  The money he would make from the sale along with what he had saved over the last seven years would allow Marcus to claim he was a millionaire, but that wasn’t important to him.  What he really cared about was being free to work for God.  Marcus wanted to do good and for his life to have meaning beyond what people normally considered success.  There was no doubt being a pastor was his call.

Marcus finished watching Miami knock Detroit out of the playoffs, consoled his father because his team didn’t win, and promised his mother he would come to dinner Sunday after church.  He went to dinner with Delvin and they laughed and talked for about an hour after dinner was done.  It was about 9 P.M.  when he got to his new home, which happened to be an old house.  Marcus loved it though.  I liked its openness, the large windows, and high ceilings.  It needed a little work, but overall it was in very good shape.  Some would say that it was really too big for one person, but Marcus thought it was just right.  It had plenty of room for him to do things.  And Marcus liked to do things.  There was an office downstairs in which to do the pastor study thing; a big kitchen in which to do the cooking thing; a bedroom upstairs to do the reading thing; another room to do the TV and music thing; and of course the big family room to the family get together thing.  Along with the master bedroom, the living room, and a guest room, the house had everything Marcus could want.  There weren’t much he could do in the house right now because it was mostly empty.