I've been attending a business meeting here in Maryland this week. It has been a long couple of days, and unfortunately my head won't find rest with my own pillow until very late Friday night. Compared to my last trip this way, the travel particulars have gone fairly well - and I'm hopeful that Friday will afford me no new adventure tales to tell. But this is not my topic tonight, so I'd better move on.
One of the attendees at this meeting bears a remarkable resemblance to an old college roommate of mine, who passed away five years ago in a tragic accident. It took my breath away, because his appearance, his frame, his gait - all of these remind me so very strongly of Van. It is just uncanny. More than once, I've found myself thinking back ….
At first glance, it was an unusual pairing. I was nearing the end of my freshman year at Auburn, all of 18-19 years old. Van, if I recall correctly, was seven years older. Van and I struck up a friendship after serving together on the same work team during a Spring Break mission trip with the Appalachian Service Project. Van was generally quiet and reserved, while I was young and uptight and a bit too opinionated for my own good. I was still relatively new to my walk with Jesus, and it showed. But although he was often quiet, people usually paid attention to him when he spoke. I know I did. Which is why I was caught off guard when he asked me if I wanted to be his roommate. We were both active at the Wesley Foundation (we were voted co-rookies of the year together for the 1989-90 school year). But sitting there at the lunch table in the cafeteria, I jumped at the chance. First, I needed a roommate, and so did he. He had found a duplex on Oak Street down from the high school. It was a great little house. Second, and more importantly, I knew that I could be myself around him – something that isn’t always easy for guys to do with other guys. I knew instinctively that I could learn from him. I don’t know what his motivations were, if he had any. Perhaps he knew that I needed some mentoring. Whatever his reasons, God knew what He was doing. And I am blessed to this day because of it.
Both Van and I stayed in Auburn the summer of 1990. Van was in school (forestry), and I worked for the university. Both of us served on Wesley’s summer leadership council (I went on to serve the full school year). And while there should be plenty of memories from that time, as much time as we ended up spending together in the house or at Wesley, I don’t remember too many specific things. I do remember that Van would constantly be washing his Chevy Blazer. Our driveway was under a grove of sweet-gum trees, and the pollen output was unbelievable. Every night, without fail, he was outside with the hose washing off the pollen. I seem to recall one time where he remembered a little too late to roll his windows up before he started hosing it down.
We occasionally had people over at the house, but for the most part, home was our getaway place. I can’t tell you how many nights Van and I would sit in my fabulous red/orange Holiday Inn castoff lounge chairs watching television. (I still have those chairs, so you can imagine how old they are now). That was a good summer.
The 1991 Gulf War was the first major war that I was old enough to fully understand. Indeed, it was quite a personal thing for me, as my father was deployed for the air war portion of that conflict. It was during this time that I leaned on Van more than he ever truly realized. When the war started, school became very secondary to me. I remember being glued to CNN every waking hour I wasn’t in class. At least it seemed that way. At home, Van and I would sit there in silence watching the coverage of the war. We talked about it, of course, but more often than not, we would just sit there and watch. Van seemed to know when and when not to say something. And I knew he was praying for my dad, and for my family. Van didn’t offer platitudes, but he did offer understanding. It was what I needed. Looking back, I’m convinced that Van was the perfect roommate for me during that difficult time.
There are a plenty of other memories, but 20 years later, many of these have muddled together. There were plenty of laughs, trips to The Flush for ice cream, things of that nature. Those were good times. I learned a great deal from Van about how to approach life (and to be honest, I should probably remember and relearn those lessons). He was always careful about the words he spoke. Even when angry, he was very careful in his choice of words. Any critical feelings he may have had towards anybody, he usually kept to himself. He also knew when I was overreacting about something, and through his quiet approach would guide me back to reality. Then again, he may just have thought I was nuts. But if he did, I never knew it. The fact is, Van was the mentor I needed at that time in my life, whether he was aware of his role or not. I looked up to him. I asked for his opinion all the time. He had my respect, and I am certain he had the respect of many, many people. He was a good man. It is true, I don't think about him much anymore, because after all, that was a long time ago, and we were roommates for only the one year. But I do miss him. He was my roommate, my friend, and my mentor. God used him in my life. I can pay him no greater honor than to thank my Father in Heaven for allowing our paths to cross. And I am grateful that a chance meeting with a stranger this week has given me a chance to remember a good friend and brother.
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