Sunday, 5 October 2008

My Mark.
Mark is one of seven children in a blended family. Ever since he was a boy, Mark wanted to be a soldier. According to his bestfriend Bobby, it was no surprise that Mark went into the Army after high school.
After his first years, Mark wwas accepted at West Point, something my beloved is very humble about. Unless someone (like me) tells you, you would never know.
Several years later, due to a leg injury, Mark came out of the service and went overseas as a Missionary. While preparing for his trip in California, the first leg of his missianary traning, Mark reconnected with his uncle and aunt. He had lived with them Uncle Jim and Aunt Michael  forthe first several years of his life.

There had been a tragic accident take took Mark's mother away from him. Due to a fall, Mark's mother suffered brain damage when Mark was about 18 months old. 
Mark's Dad was  still in the Navy that the time, so Dad could not take care of Mark, or his older siblings. Aunt Michael and Uncle Jim offered to care for Mark and his older brother and sister until such time Dad Reel could get back on his feet.
Mark stay with his family in California, while he went through Missionary training. During this time he learned that his uncle was now a Messianic Jewish Rabbi, and he helped him to discover his Jewish roots. While serving overseas, Mark worked with a Messianic congregtion and loved it.
So when he returned to the States, Mark enrolled in ODU,  with plans of studying medical, enlisted in the Army Reserves and went back to the church his family had attended years ago, KPC.

The same church I was now attending. 
Desiring to to connect with fellow Hebrew believers, Mark asked around the church, if anyone knew of a messiniaic fellowship. 
One of the church staff members told Mark that there a Messianic believer who is a member here. He told Mark my name and suggested he contact me.
A few weeks later, during the Easter Worship Service, Mar was up in the balcony, watching the worship dancers below. There was one dancer, however, don in a prayer shawl that caught his eye. Mark went to the gentleman he had spoken to weeks before and asked: "Who is that?"

The brother answered: "that's Elayne, the lady I have been telling you about."
It would be another four weeks before he would spot me again. 

This time, I would be on crutches, the white sock covering my cast, matching my long white dress.  On that June Sunday, Mark would not just open a door for me, but walk into my life.

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