Mark Metherell

From Sarah Metherell:

I am Mark’s wife, Sarah.  I can’t begin to explain to you how wonderful Mark was as a man, a husband, and a father.  I wouldn’t know where to begin and where to end.  So, I hope you don’t mind, but I am going to read to you some of the letters and other things Mark wrote over the years (he’s a much better writer than I am) and share a few stories.

Right after we were engaged, when I was living in Argentina, and Mark was heading out for a six month deployment with the SEAL Teams, he wrote the following letters.  They show his character and our love and relationship in a way that is more humorous and more meaningful than I could otherwise hope to express.

(Mark’s Letter 7.20.98)
Sarah,

Can infatuation last for two years?  Can a man spend two years thinking of a woman, only to find out that it was simply a fleeting fascination that has disappeared?  Of course not… this is true love, and it doesn’t happen everyday.  Come to think of it, it only happens to a select group – a chosen few – an elite group of lovers gifted by God with each other – molded in the fiery furnace of passion!  Sarah, I have fallen so deeply in love with you over these past two years that I no longer think of myself, but of you.  I want to give you the world… of course, all I’ve got right now is a used snowboard, a really great surfboard, and an old BMW, but hey (!) you get ME.

Dear Sexy,

Today is my last day in paradise.  In fact, I’m flying out in about four hours, so I decided to send you one last Aloha from Hawaii.  The powers that be have changed my schedule once again, and I am now going to Texas, as was originally planned – it would be a nice surprise if people could just stick with a plan. 

Anyway, I am writing to you from a bench under a palm tree in front of an aquamarine bay.  In the distance, steep mountains sit quietly, their sides are ribbed from centuries of rains and erosion, making them appear like cathedrals of vibrant green.  Until a few moments ago all I could hear was the wind blowing through the palm trees, but an endless line of helicopters just showed up making low sweeping turns to land at the airfield on the base.  This has abruptly ruined the illusion that I’m at a resort hotel sitting here awaiting your return from the bar with two margaritas. 

This morning, we received one last kick-in-the-rear from this exercise.  We received gas mask training.  This wonderful evolution consists of donning a gas mask, walking in a room filled with tear gas then… that’s right (!) taking that perfectly good mask off the face and getting lungs filled with sweet, wonderful gas before redonning the mask.  Afterwards, walking outside, my face covered in snot, tears, and drool, I realized that this stuff definitely wakes you up in the morning.  It’s even better than a cup of coffee.  If you took this mentality a bit further, we would have shark attack training where you get bitten by real sharks, or combat training where you are shot in some non-vital area – a leg perhaps.

Our separation is much more painful than getting tear gas in my face.  In fact, gas me every day, just so long as I can come home to you.  Still, I can see that God is at work in the lives of those around us, and that His love is reaching others through us.  This is part of his plan, this separation, because it makes us stronger by both of us coming to Him.  It’s a miracle that we came so far while we were so far away – A Miracle I Tell You!  I love you so much Sarah.  You are the most precious thing God ever made, as far as I’m concerned.  What a wonderful, caring person you are.  Hooray for Sarah!  You’re a right lusty wench too (Big Kiss).
I love you so much,
Mark

More recently, we each had to write an autobiography as part of our adoption application.  Mark wrote the following about our marriage.

Sarah and I have a weird marriage.  We both feel that the honeymoon phase of our relationship has not gone away (we’ve been married for almost 8 years). And we don’t believe that it needs to go away.  Perhaps it is because I travel and we therefore value time spent together, and therefore we don’t take each other for granted. We definitely have differences of opinion, but it is through compromise that these differences are settled.  I learned very early in our relationship that if Sarah was sad then I was miserable, so I try to listen and to be empathetic to Sarah. 

Our relationship took on a whole new dimension when Cora came along.  Mark loved babies, but I was having a hard time thinking of what to say about Mark as Cora’s daddy, so my sister asked, “Well… what pops to mind?” “He wouldn’t let me have her!” I replied.  Mark got so excited every time he heard Cora waking up from a nap.  As soon as she peeped, he would ask (rubbing his hands together) “Can I go get her?  Please.  Please.”

Since I’m mean in the morning (something Mark told me soon after we were married), Mark would get Cora in the morning and I would put her to bed at night.  He was trying to let me sleep in, but he and Cora would be downstairs making such a rukus laughing and gurgling, that I always ended up wanting to get up and join in the fun.  He put her to the task from the time she was about two weeks old with baby push-up sessions and a few months later, moved on to crawling.  I came down one morning to find her in the crawl position, and he was moving her right arm and leg forward, and then her left arm and leg forward.  He didn’t realize that that’s how a horse walks, but not how a baby crawls.  If he had had the chance to teach her to swim, I’m sure it would have been much more technically correct. 

In the adoption application we filled out more recently for baby #2, Mark wrote this:
“We were able to adopt Cora as a newborn, and God has blessed us with a healthy, happy baby who is a real joy.  And she is SO good!!! I know that it is not supposed to be so easy.  Cora has a very funny personality … very precocious, and fun.  We can’t wait for her to have a brother or sister.”

Later in that same application, Mark wrote:

My strongest influence is Jesus Christ.  He is my touchstone and it is from Him that I gain strength.  While my job is fairly dangerous, I truly believe that God wants me out there.  He is the one who protects me, and challenges me to quietly show God’s love.  It’s a funny thing, I tend to talk about my faith more with Muslims then with other Americans that I work with.  I think that it is a parallel that we have, our faith in God that bridges a fairly substantial gap in our cultures. 

To summarize (if such a thing is possible) the kind of husband and man Mark was, following is the inscription he wrote to me in his favorite book, Refiner’s Fire.

Sarah,

This is one of my favorite novels.  It is the story of a life full of adventure and magic, of someone who takes risks.  Someone like you.  I pray continuously that God will be with you as you take those risks and that He will be at the center of our love.  My prayer is that I will never hold you back, to let you grow, spur you on to reach any dreams you have, and to give millions of passionate kisses to you for the rest of our lives. 

I love you – Mark

When Mark’s good friend from work came to tell me about Mark’s death, he gave me a coin.  The coin has a cross on one side, and on the other side says “Fear Not” A few days later, I came across a return address label on a note from a friend.  The label read, “Fear not, for I am with you.” In reading through some of Mark’s letters, I found the following letter that I will leave you with.  At the top, the letter quotes Isaiah 41:10.

Isaiah 41:10 Do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Dear Sarah,

I read this verse tonight and thought of you in a new country alone, and I realized that you are not really alone.  You have a friend and protector.  “Do not fear, Mark,” He is saying, “for I am with Sarah.” That is his promise to both of us, and it makes me feel a lot better when I think of you alone… with God sitting with you.

From Alex Metherell:

I have been thinking about what a privilege if has been for us to have been the parents of such an outstanding young man.  As I look back I have come to realize some amazing things about Mark.

For example, I cannot recall a single time when he lost his temper. - - Well there was the time when he was about 4 when Auntie Dee-Dee gave him a 2 wheel bike.  Upon trying to ride it for the first time he fell off and said to his mom “Give it to the Salvation Army.”

He never showed any fear - - not even the time when he was 5 and Alison was 3 in Miami and I was in Medical School.  They had just gone to bed and I crept in with a human skull and a flashlight shining inside while making moaning noises.  Alison screamed in terror and 5 year old Mark just laughed his head off.  - - Of course, I got properly scolded by Pam.

This fearlessness served him well when he became a SEAL.  When faced with a tense dangerous situation he would become very calm and controlled.

One such situation was when his SEAL team was deployed to Kodiak, Alaska in winter. He was out in a small open boat – a RIB I think it was – when the outboard motor quit.  There was another SEAL with him, along with a visiting Admiral who came along for the ride.  The seas were pretty rough and the boat was drifting towards some nasty rocks.  The Admiral started freaking out while Mark calmly figured out how to get the engine restarted and they got safely out of there.

This fearlessness and a lack of a temper gave him a unique ability to defuse a tense situation.  When faced with hostility his amazing gift with words would calm everyone down immediately.

Mark loved people, especially children.  With kids he would make funny faces, tickle them and, in effect, become like one of them.  He was like a “Pied-Piper.” Children would flock to him because he was so much fun.

His people skills were unsurpassed.  Even with people who spoke an unfamiliar language, he could communicate immediately.  No one was afraid of him.  These personal traits and characteristics qualified him uniquely for the job he was assigned to, most recently.

He never really told us much about what he did or where he went.  He did not want or need any recognition for his work.  He just loved doing it and told us this was his dream job.

A couple of years ago, when he came back from one of his deployments, he told us a little bit about how he was living.  The people he was with, were among remote feudal tribes in a region close to Pakistan.  These tribesmen don’t even trust people from neighboring tribes, let alone a foreigner.  He not only made friends with them – they welcomed him in as a brother – so much so, that he was invited to be part of a wedding.  This is unheard of for a foreigner.

Such were his people skills.  I can just see him growing a beard, playing with their children and winning the minds and hearts of the people.

His most recent mission was serving as a Special Advisor training Iraqi Special Forces.  These brave Iraqis were made up of the sects who for generations have been killing one another, but these Iraqi patriots set aside those differences – no doubt with the help of Mark – to serve a more noble cause.

Mark and 7 Iraqis, who were the best-of-the-best of their Special Forces, were killed by a massive IED that destroyed the lead vehicle in which they were riding in the early hours of April 11 on the outskirts of Baghdad. We are not surprised that Mark was in the lead vehicle.

I feel confident that out of that blood soaked soil will grow a stable, peaceful, free Iraq with a government OF the people, BY the people and FOR the people, with complete freedom of religion and expression.

When this happens they may look back and count those 7 patriotic Iraqis among the Founding Fathers of their reborn nation. They will, hopefully remember Mark Metherell as a patriotic American hero who stood by their side.

Mark was the ultimate peacemaker.

Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount—“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.”

From Pam Metherell:

Alex and I named our first born child Mark for three reasons:

1. Because it was Biblical
2. Because it sounded great with Metherell
3. Because it meant “Warrior”

Occasionally over the past years since he graduated from Wheaton College and entered the Navy SEAL program I have thought maybe a “wimpier” name would have been safer but it would not have fit.
First and foremost Mark was a GODLY son who loved Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior since being introduced to Him at 4 or 5 by his best friend Scott Crowell who told him he would go to hell when he died if he did not pray to have Jesus in his heart and he immediately prayed to do so. Two little blonde kids sharing the most important lesson in life.

Actually it was Mark that brought our entire family to a saving knowledge of Christ. Although Alex and I had not been attending church, we had wanted to have Mark baptized when my parents were visiting from Scotland in the summer of 1969, and as we had been married in a Presbyterian church in Scotland, we looked in the yellow pages to find a Presbyterian Church in Newport Beach.
The first one only did baptisms at certain times of the year but Charles Dierenfield said he would be happy to have a private ceremony in the chapel at St Andrews. Because of his graciousness we started attending church there and were invited to join the Ensigns the young couples group which had monthly speakers.

At one such meeting Chuck Missler spoke and gave a statistical analysis on how one man, Jesus Christ, fulfilled over 300 Old Testament prophecies. Alex as a scientist computed the numbers in his head and became a Jesus “freak” on the spot.

I liked the transformation and would accompany him to Bible studies. At one such study in Huntington Beach the teacher was explaining the meaning of “original sin” and pointed to a newborn baby girl in her mother’s arms at the back of the room. “If that baby girl needs Christ in her life because of original sin, what about those of you who are older?” I surrendered my life to Christ that night and that baby girl grew up ------ became a Christian --and married my son Mark.

Alison, Mark’s sister, became a believer as a little 4 year old at the neighborhood Good News Club where they gave out doughnuts to those who asked Jesus into their hearts. The teacher explained that she could only do it once!

Caroline, Mark’s other sister, became a Christian as a 3 year old when she was scared on learning that I was having some minor surgery and I told her that I had Jesus in my heart to take care of me and she wanted Him in her heart to take care of her too.

Mark was a LOVING son who loved his sweet wife Sarah passionately. After first meeting her he told me “she is the most awesome woman I have ever met”.  A friend writing on his website expressed it
perfectly, “only the brightest gem would do for Mark. The gem that fit so tightly into the nooks and crannies of Mark, that joined together they became the brightest star”.

He was a PRECIOUS son who adored his baby Cora because “brown babies are so much cuter and isn’t she just the cutest! He said recently “the only problem is she makes Sarah and I look so pasty. We are going to have to spend a lot of time at the beach”. On his blog he wrote to a friend who is considering adoption, “We love Cora so much. She is much cooler than anything we could have produced. Brown is so much more interesting than pasty-pale.”

He was a NOBLE son who loved and respected his parents and was loved and respected in return.

He was a LOYAL son who loved and protected his two sisters Alison and Caroline who were born 2 years and 7 years after him and was so proud of them and their accomplishments.

He was a COMPASSIONATE son who loved my mother, his 97 year old Nana, and wanted Cora to call her “Super Nana”. He played kings in the corner with her whenever he was home and always allowed her to win because she was “so small and so cute!” Dave, a good friend, is taking over that assignment in Mark’s place.

He was a CARING son who loved my sister Wendy whom as a baby he always called “Dee Dee” and still did whenever he saw her.

He was a KIND-HEARTED son who loved my late Dad, his Grandpa whom he described when he was a little boy, as “the wisest man in the whole wide world -----– except of course for Dad.

He was a GRACIOUS son who loved Sarah’s parents Gail and Peter and the rest of her family so much that Alison and Caroline were concerned that he had become more of an Ochs than a Metherell ------ and he almost had, enabling us to become one extended family.

He was a CORAGEOUS son who loved growing up at the beach where he could monitor surf conditions from his bed, and would dive in to join dolphins and whales that he spotted swimming in the bay. On Monday, there were hundreds of dolphins leaping and somersaulting in the surf.

His burial plot at the Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery is on a bluff overlooking the ocean across to Coronado, where he will be buried with full military honors. What a perfect spot for a Navy SEAL and a California surfer dude!

He was an HONORABLE son who loved his Cottage-style home on Brooks Street in Laguna surrounded by some of his best friends.  That same street where American flags, at half mast, waved in the breeze under brilliant blue skies all week, and where on Friday evening a week ago, under a bright moon and sparkling stars, candles were lit, and Amazing Grace was sung, in his memory.

He was a PATRIOTIC son who loved his country and his “dream job” which took him all over the world on secret missions and amazing adventures, and we are now just learning of the many lives he has saved, both physically and spiritually. A friend wrote that “he was an ambassador for freedom in every sense of the word”.

He said that if anything happened to him “he would be on the most exciting adventure of his life”, which he is on today, making Heaven more inviting to those in our family who are left behind.

His last words to us on the day before he died were “I love you both.” “I am fine.” “Don’t worry.” He IS fine and we don’t have to worry any more. In closing----one of his favorite books-- and oh, how he loved to read ---- was written by Stu Weber a fellow alum. from Wheaton College, also in the Special Forces. The title of his book sums up Mark perfectly in 2 words ------ Tender Warrior. 

Mark “you have fought the good fight, finished the race and kept the faith. Well done, good and faithful servant”.

My mom was cherished by my big brother Mark.  He used to say that Pam Metherell might be small, but boy is she mighty (and practically perfect in everyway)!  My mom in turn cherished her only son with that all encompassing almost painful love that you only know once you become a parent.  Some of my fondest memories of my big brother was watching him grab mom in the kitchen early in morning while she was still in her long, pink flannel nightgown and he inevitably was in his khaki shorts and holey surf t-shirt and spin her around the floor like they were at the wildest ball ever.  Then with his crooked eyebrow raised - and that ever present twinkle in his eye he would ask me for the honor of a dance and then my sister and if we were really lucky - even my dad.  My mom loves Mark so much that when she realized he was intent on joining the seal teams, she stopped trying to convince him otherwise and wholeheartedly supported him - even when behind her cool demeanor I know her heart was fearful.  I remember she even drove down to Coronado to pick Mark up after he had completed Hell Week and when I say “picked Mark up”, I mean it literally.  He was in congestive heart failure, after a week of little to no sleep and constant training he wasn’t able to walk by himself and she had to almost carry him into the car.  She took him home, ran a bath for him so he could actually get his clothes off of his body and took care of him like she had done so many times before.  She loves her boy and he truly loved his mom.

In the last week we have been hearing about how so many people wanted to be like Mark Metherell when they grew up but whenever I hear that I can’t but help think that Mark Metherell wanted to be like Alex Metherell when he grew up.  You see our dad made the decision a long time ago that no child of his was going to live in a home like he had lived in.  Dad grew up in household filled with a lot of heartache, but he made the decision early that he was going to love and serve his wife and his children.  Take one glance at my big brother and you will know that he has followed dad’s lead and made the same choice.  If you talk with my dad about Mark you can’t but help to see the incredible pride he has for his son it almost oozes out of his eyes and is evident in the smile that comes to his lips when he says his son’s name.  Whenever Mark talked about Cora he had that same pride oozing from his eyes and that same smile on his lips whenever he said his daughter’s name.  I remember Sarah saying this last Christmas that she couldn’t believe how much alike Mark and his dad where becoming.  I am not sure who felt more complemented by her comment Mark or my dad.  Thank you mom and dad for raising Mark intentionally the way you did and for allowing Mark to become the man that God wanted him to be.

I remember once on a family vacation in Hawaii sitting at night on the shoreline with my mom and dad watching Mark and a friend prepare to go night diving.  He had his wet suit on and he cracked one of those glow sticks usually reserved for Halloween and attach it to his mask.  He then without hesitation jumped in the water and was off.  We sat on the banks for a really long time and watched as his light got further and further away.  Mom and dad started to get a little nervous but I was oddly comforted by his light knowing that if I could see his light I knew he was still OK. 

Well, big brother I still can see your light whenever I see the look of love mom has in her eyes when she looks at a picture of you or when I see the look of pride on dad’s face when he is telling a story of all your bravery or when I hear a story about one of the countless ways you made your friends laugh or when I see Sarah loving care for your sweet Cora – it is then that I know you are OK.  Even though it is excruciatingly painful to re-imagine my life without you in it and maybe there won’t be any more dances around the kitchen floor or crushing bear hugs in which I wonder if you are ever going to let me go - I know you will be the first one in line to greet me when it is my turn to meet my Jesus face to face.  We promise to tell your stories to Cora as she grows so that she knows just what a truly incredible, kind and brave man her daddy was.  We promise to hold Sarah in our arms when we know her heart is bursting from missing you.  We promise to spin our moms around the kitchen floor and spend time deep in conversation with our dads.  We promise never to forget you and the many ways in which you have touched our lives.  But most importantly we promise to live our lives completely true to who we are and in a way that would bring glory and honor to our Lord Jesus Christ.  Mark you were my hero long before you joined the service and you forever will be my hero not because of what you did during your life but because of who you became.  We will miss you, big brother.

Love you!
Monster

From Rev. Jeff Tacklind at Mark’s burial, Rosecrans National Cemetary.

ROSTRUM

WELCOME

I would like to welcome you all here today and to express how honored I am to stand with you all in recognition of Mark Metherell, an extraordinary man who lived a life of incredible significance.  It is an honor to commemorate a moment such as this with family of such depth of character, commitment, and love, and with soldiers of such stature and nobility, and to celebrate together a life so worthy of being celebrated.

Proverbs 1:5 says that wisdom rests quietly in the heart of a man of understanding…and Mark was truly such a man. 

Hugh Ross, a friend of the Metherells, and a brilliant astrophysicist, once said that when he was testing his students, if he observed one that was clearly demonstrating that he understood the material on the test, he would simply take the test away and give the student an A.  Hugh said that he believes that sometimes God does the same thing.

If there is anyone I can think of that deserves such a grade, it is Mark. He exhibited an incredible inner strength and depth of character.  He was a man who believed whole-heartedly in the purposes for which he gave his life.  And he lived fully and completely in every moment.

His obituary states, that Mark was killed in Baghdad in the early hours of Friday, April 11, 2008. Mark served his country with a deep love for his work and a passionate commitment to the ideals he supported.

John 15:13 says, “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.”

Mark was a man who loved greatly.  He deeply loved his family, his friends, his country, his teammates, his beloved wife Sarah, in whom he was always completely infatuated, and most of all, his God whom we served, sacrificially and with his whole heart.

Mark has been repeatedly described as a warrior poet.  He was a phenomenal story teller, and a lover of words.  He loved liturgy for its beauty, reverence, and depth.  I have chosen some readings today that I believe Mark would have wanted read on such an occasion.

INVOCATION

I would like to begin by reading the Apostle’s creed.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Creator of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:

Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day He arose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,
whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and life everlasting.

Amen.

SCRIPTURE AND SERVICE

I also thought it would also be befitting to read a Psalm that Sarah would prayer when Mark was away.
Psalm 91 says,
1 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
3 Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
8 You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
9 If you make the Most High your dwelling—
even the LORD, who is my refuge-
10 then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
12 they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
14 “Because he loves me,” says the LORD, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”

Psalm 23
1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.

In Jesus’ parable of the talents, the Master affirms and rewards the servants who are faithful with the talents they were given.  To the wise servants who increased their talents, the Master said, “Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things’ I will put you in charge of many things.”

Mark was faithful til the very end.  His death has left an enormous void, but one that many, many are clamoring to fill.  It has been incredible to watch the commissioning that has taken place in so many lives as the result of his passing.  But I have every confidence that his presence in heaven has had as profound an impact there, and that Mark has simply gone on to a greater assignment and a greater glory as he co-reigns with his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

BENEDICTION

As we close, let us pray the Lord’s prayer together. 

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.

COMMITTAL

SCRIPTURE AND PRAYER

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
13Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. 14We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 15According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18Therefore encourage each other with these words.

1 Corinthians 15:51-55, 57
51Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— 52in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. 53For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. 54When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
55"Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
57But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Prayer of Comfort from the Book of Common Prayer

Grant to us who are still in our pilgrimage, and who walk as
yet by faith, that thy Holy Spirit may lead us in holiness and
righteousness all our days. Amen.

Grant to thy faithful people pardon and peace, that we may
be cleansed from all our sins, and serve thee with a quiet
mind. Amen.

Grant to all who mourn a sure confidence in thy fatherly
care, that, casting all their grief on thee, they may know the
consolation of thy love. Amen.

Give courage and faith to those who are bereaved, that they
may have strength to meet the days ahead in the comfort of a
reasonable and holy hope, in the joyful expectation of eternal
life with those they love. Amen.

Help us, we pray, in the midst of things we cannot understand,
to believe and trust in the communion of saints, the forgiveness
of sins, and the resurrection to life everlasting. Amen.

Grant us grace to entrust Mark to thy never-failing love; receive
him into the arms of thy mercy, and remember him according
to the favor which thou bearest unto thy people. Amen.

Grant that, increasing in knowledge and love of thee, he may
go from strength to strength in the life of perfect service in
thy heavenly kingdom. Amen.

Grant us, with all who have died in the hope of the
resurrection, to have our consummation and bliss in thy
eternal and everlasting glory, and, with [blessed Mark and]
all thy saints, to receive the crown of life which thou dost
promise to all who share in the victory of thy Son Jesus
Christ; who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy
Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

BENEDICTION
Numbers 6:24-26
24 “ ‘ “The LORD bless you
and keep you;
25 the LORD make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
26 the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace.” ‘
Amen.

MAN OF MANY MISSIONS

Mark truly was a man of many missions, personally, spiritually and professionlly. Mark and Sarah have been dedicated supporters of Growers First, Inc. by way of contributing their time, talent and treasures since the inception of Growers First. Sarah fills a role on the GF board for their family. They have been a significant presence in so many ways. To put in perspective how significant and dedicated Mark and Sarah were and are to Growers First, this photo of them among the Mixe Indians of Oaxaca was taken on their anniversary during one of the first trips that Growers First offered. Mark and Sarah were a unique team that complimented each other in every aspect, including our organization.  Mark will be deeply missed. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the entire Metherell and Ochs families and the many families they have touched around the world.

The Growers First Family

Excerpts from today’s Chicago Sun-Times article: Goodbye to a wise, godly friend
RELIGION | Former classmate killed by roadside bomb in Iraq embodied all the qualities I like to believe God possesses

April 18, 2008

BY CATHLEEN FALSANI Religion Columnist

For full column go to: http://www.suntimes.com/news/falsani/902260,CST-NWS-fals18.article

...On April 11, my college buddy Mark Metherell died in Iraq when the vehicle he was riding in near Sadr City struck a roadside bomb. He was killed instantly. Mark was 39, a native Southern Californian and former Navy SEAL who had been working in the private sector helping to train Iraqi forces.

A week ago, when I signed on to my Facebook account and saw that Mark’s best friend had written “I’m sad that Mark died in Iraq today” as his “update” message, I hoped it was a joke. Mark and his best friends—two guys named Dave who were his college-mates and, more recently, his neighbors in Laguna Beach, Calif.—have a wicked sense of humor.

When the other Dave sent me an e-mail saying “it’s no joke,” my heart gained 50 pounds and sank in my chest, where it remains, a painful boulder.

How was it possible that one of the most alive people I’ve ever known was gone?

Mark was a year ahead of me at Wheaton, but he stayed for a fifth year to finish a degree in literature (and biology), and we graduated together in 1992. While he wasn’t one of my best friends, he was certainly one of my favorite friends—ever.

Mark was many marvelous things. Wryly and riotously funny, he could convey more humor with one wonky eyebrow than most people can with their whole bodies. He was deeply intelligent and wonderfully wacky. An adventurous, sea-loving surfer (even in Lake Michigan), he was literate, faithful, kind.

And he was a hero to me long before he proudly served his country in the armed forces and beyond…

...My fondest memory of him, however, took place in a dive bar called Punky’s not long after we had graduated. Mark didn’t engage me in conversation very often (I didn’t think he liked me that much, actually), but he took me aside in a brotherly fashion to tell me something important.

I was about to embark on a new romance, and I don’t think he approved of the suitor. Mark said he wanted me to know he thought I too often sold myself short and that I was special. He said I deserved to be cherished by someone who would appreciate all that I am.

Years later, when I met the man who did just that, I had Mark’s words to thank for helping me recognize it.

To me, godly is the word that best describes Mark. By that, I mean he embodied all the qualities I like to believe God possesses.

Loving. Wise. Strong. Tender. Surprising. A friend who is listening and watching even when we aren’t aware of it…

...Goodbye for now, sweet face.

See you on the other side.

I wrote this paper at the beginning of this year (8th grade) for social studies because we had to write about a veteran so I chose Mark.

Mark Metherall the Seal

My uncle, Mark Metherall, is too daring to even put in words. He served as a navy seal for eight years and has been to and seen some places that you can’t even imagine. I found out when I was about 9. The main training Mark did was called BUDS. Basic, Underwater, Demolition, Seal training. That part of training was the selection course that took six months in San Diego. Then, he went to air born school in Georgia. There they learned how to jump out of planes. A story he told me once about when he went parachuting and landed on an office building balcony all in his camouflage and face paint. I thought that was a hilarious story. So, as you can see, he’s very adventurous.

After air born school, when Mark was a beginning Navy Seal, they didn’t know what to do with him, so they sent him to work with marine animals. He did this for about six months, and mainly worked with dolphins and sea lions. He likes to tell my cousins and I about when he was working with the animals. One story was about when Mark was training his dolphin, Jake. They were out in the water when off in the distance Mark saw some other Navy Seals training and sneaking on a boat. Mark told Jake to go attack the Seals, so he did. The Seals got really frightened because they thought they were the only ones out there.  Mark also made many other animal friends and enjoyed working with them.

As a Navy Seal, Mark;s job was to be a part of the commando force. The commando force did direct action missions, otherwise known as attacking the enemy bases. He said their motto was surprise, speed, and violence of action. That was a good motto that made sense. They needed to surprise the enemy, be fast about it and use violence towards the enemy.

Mark also traveled to many countries. He went to Japan, Korea, Guam, Thailand, Kuwait, and many places in the Persian Gulf. I think that would be the best part about serving. You get to travel to a bunch of exotic places and experience different cultures and foods. He also went to different places in the U.S., but it was mostly out of the country stuff.

Mark said that if he could be a Seal again he absolutely would. He said it was like being a rock star. Being a Seal must be a pretty cool job, then since most people wouldn’t say that about their job. He also liked the part where he could jump out of planes and go diving. He’s told me some crazy stories about when he dove in blowholes. That is something he love doing, but I would probably never do that (I ended up diving in a blowhole in December 2007 with him). 

Being in the service affected Mark in two different, very important ways. One way was that it made him more focused. The second one was that now, he can accomplish almost anything that he sets his mind to. I think those are are two great things that came out of what he did. Mark is the best uncle and has done the coolest things ever. It was great that he helped his country and enjoyed what he did, but I’m glad that he’s done with the out of the country stuff. Now, his job is just in the U.S., so we can see him when we go out to California to visit. Also, he can stay home with his wife, Sarah, and my cousin, Cora. Mark is one of the most loyal, caring, and adventurous guys I know.

Love, Bella

Well, I think it’s fair to say that most everyone on this forum knew Mark better than I did. But even from a distance, Mark made a pretty big impression on me...maybe that’s just one more sign of what a special and unique guy he really was.

Mark and I landed on the same floor our freshman year at Wheaton College, and were both from Southern California. I thought that fact alone should be enough to crown us as the cool kids on the block, but it was immediately clear to me that Mark wasn’t in the business of being very pretentious. He was obviously secure in who he was and gave everyone a fair shake.

Like most of his classmates, I was curious about why a hard-core surfer would decide to spend his college years in freezing cold Chicago. But that was hardly the only paradox about Mark. I soon learned that he was an astute pre-med major, though I rarely saw him crack a textbook. He was usually hanging out in the lobby chatting up the chicks or had his nose buried in some non- academic novel. 

Then, while still a student, I heard he actually found time to start writing a novel of his own… and a few of my snobby lit major friends even admitted that it was really good storytelling. But no matter what he was doing, Mark seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin, strolling around campus in his vans and Bermudas while wearing his Wheaton swim team parka, and always sporting that big affable grin.

Occasionally we talked about missing the left coast and how much we craved a burger from In N Out… and we joked about transferring back to school in California if either one of us slipped one more time on another icy sidewalk in that sun-forsaken part of the world.  But I think the funniest thing I remember about Mark was the way he stashed his chew in the heater of his room…at least he was honest enough to admit it was one of his vices that even “the pledge” just couldn’t shake.

So considering all of Mark’s anomalies, I was hardly surprised when I heard he bailed on med school in favor of going into the SEALs. I only saw Mark a handful of times after he enlisted, since we had a mutual friend who was also a SEAL. But I loved hearing their stories of “drownproofing” in BUDS training or being followed by sharks while swimming in formation miles out in the Pacific. Like most of the general public, I was fascinated with their experiences, and so proud to have a few friends serving in the SEALs.

Mark and I lost touch several years ago, but I’m not surprised he continued to be a light and a joy to so many people. As a father myself, I feel heartsick for his wife and daughter who obviously loved him well. Our family’s prayers will be with you Sarah and Cora in the difficult days ahead. And one day, Mark, I look forward to seeing your smile and hearing more stories again in heaven. Thank you for your joyful spirit with family and friends, and your brave service to our great nation.

Ron Romberger

Mark flew out to New York for Scott and Merry McMillan’s wedding back in July of 1992 . My detail may be sketchy on some facts.
Mark arrived in NYC on a Friday afternoon. My brother Charles and I picked him up from the airport and drove straight to Southampton, Long Island. We hit the water near dusk and surfed until after dark, benefitting from the moonlit night. Mark was the last one to exit the water, dripping and grinning in his usual fashion, complementing the board that I loaned him (a 5’10” T and C that was about 3 inches thick) It just seemed way too small for his 6 foot-plus lankiness, but he ripped on it anyway.
We spent the night at my friend Nate Kirby’s house in Wading River on Long Island, and Mark instantly entered into friendly, and sometimes deep conversation with Nate’s family.
The following morning it was back to the beach for an early surf, a quick change, and off to the wedding, at least and hour and a half away. Mark arrived with his hair still wet, ready to stand-up next to his life-long friend Scott.
The following day, we surfed one last time, and then headed back to NYC to get Mark to his flight. On the way, we stopped on Canal Street to go to an art supply store (don’t ask).
So here things got interesting and “New York-ish”. We were gone from my little red civic for no more than 10 minutes and when we returned, it had been broken into.—a screwdriver jammed into the door lock. Mark’s bag was gone: books, wetsuit and plane ticket. That seemed like all he had brought on the trip, never one for needing much in the way of possessions. Classic. A bunch of my stuff was gone as well. So I called the police, filed a report, to much police skepticism, and wasted a good half-hour. At some point, Mark, unflappable as usual, took off on his own, presumably looking for his stuff. After a short time he came stalking back from up the block with his newly retrieved empty bag and a few of his books. “My stuff is for sale at the flea market in the empty lot up the block” he told us, so we “relocked” my car and proceeded to scour the flea market. Mark just walked up to a table and grabbed his wetsuit and the rest of his books, saying “this is mine”, not angry, just matter-of-fact. He recovered everything but his plane ticket if I remember correctly, and the airline just issued him a new one. It was as if NYC tried and tested him, and he looked the city square in the eye and stood his ground.

I still can’t get my mind around this. There is this unreal feel to my life right now, the idea that I won’t see Mark again until Heaven. I don’t remember when I first met Mark. It was sometime during our time at Wheaton College. He said it was our freshman year, but my first (vivid) memory of Mark was when he was living in the ratty off-campus house near the dorms. The place had been rented out to students for decades and it was a real dump. I remember Mark charging up and down the hallways shout-singing “I WANNA BE AN AIRBORNE RANGER, I WANNA LIVE A LIFE OF DANGER” on and on, over and over. We would hang out and smoke cigarettes (mostly I would smoke, he would dip) in the basement and talk about writing (we were both in an independent study with the same prof for whom we had to write a novel), or class or books or girls. It was during these times I told him about my brother Chad Luck and his goal of becoming a Navy SEAL. Mark was quite taken with the idea. It suited him well, considering his love of the ocean.

That was sometime in 91-92. This was also the during the time that Mark was supposed to be studying for his MCATs to get into medical school. That was the original plan. So, every now and then, I’d drop by the house to see who was there, see if anyone wanted to catch or movie or get a beer and Mark’s response was usually “No, dude, I gotta study for the MCATs, but I’ll have smoke with you.” So we’d go down to the basement and smoke my Lucky Strikes (I was so cool) and talk. Finally, one night, I drop by to see him and ask if he wants to hang out. This night, he doesn’t even have time for a smoke. The MCATs are the next day. So we agree to hang out after he’s taken the test.

The next day comes. I drop by looking forward to this whole MCATs ordeal being over. I come into the house and Mark is lounging on the couch. I ask him how the test went. He looks up at me and grins.

“I didn’t take it” says Mark.

“What?” I’m shocked, “You’ve been studying for this test for almost a year.”

“I know. But the time came and I knew if I took it, I’d have an out. I don’t want to have any outs. I want to burn my bridges.”

“What are you gonna do?” I ask

“I’m gonna be a Navy SEAL.”

I wasn’t that surprised. I sensed something in Mark even back then. It was the Warrior Heart. Not many men are born warriors. My brother was. And so was Mark. Its in their nature. And I think it gave Mark joy.

Several people have commented on this board about his legendary first run, how it was ten miles long and he puked three times. Well, I took him on that first run. He asked me to help him train to get ready for BUDS. I don’t want to diminish his legend, but my memory of that first run is that it was six miles, three miles out and three miles back on the prairie path. Seriously, I feel like taking someone on a ten mile run for their FIRST workout makes me out to be sadistic. Actually nearly twenty years on, even six miles seems pretty sadistic. And I set the pace pretty brisk, doing 7-7:30 min per mile. And Mark hung in there, pretty tough. About mile four, he starts to lag. I glance back and he’s stopped by the side of the path and he’s just HEAVING. Vomiting until he’s dry-heaving.

I stood there and watched him and wondered if he really had what it took. I asked him if he wanted to walk the last couple of miles. He spits, wipes his mouth and grins at me.

“Let’s finish this run.” says Mark as he takes off past me. Suddenly I had a feeling he would make it. We went on many runs after that, but I don’t remember them. I only remember the first one. Because I saw something Mark at that moment. It was that Warrior’s heart. He was born to be a warrior, born to be a SEAL.

Over the years, Mark became more than just my friend. He became very close with my brother Chad after following him into the Teams. He spent many evenings with our whole family, when my parents would drive down to San Diego or when he would come up to Los Angeles. My parents loved Mark and Mark enjoyed spending time with them. He made us all smile and laugh, the California surfer with the laid back attitude and the inherited British mannerisms. Our prayers and love are with his parents and sisters, and his wife Sarah and daughter Cora. He will be deeply missed by the whole Luck family.

But Mark....we will see you later. 

Many people, including me, have written about how subdued Mark could be. He also had a goofy, wild side that came out from time-to-time. Last Christmas, my wife and I hosted a holiday party at our home. Somehow, I was able to convince Mark that wearing big plaid Christmas pants was important to my wife (right). So the evening of the event, Mark was taking forever to get down to our house—I always expected him to help me tap the wassail a little ahead of the crowd. Sarah called after the party started and asked if I had any tuxedo studs that Mark could borrow because he couldn’t find his—my wife did promote it as a formal party—and this is what he showed up in. Unreal, he totally stole the show.

We ended up walking down to the Sand Piper, aka, The Dirty Bird, later that night. When we walked in (I think Mark was wearing the first plaid tuxedo ever into that bar), a girl looks at Mark and says, “You’ve got to be kidding.” He didn’t even acknowledge her, using his best British snubbery tactics. We got our Sarahs some drinks, went to the dance floor and started slam dancing to a ska cover band. It got so out of hand that they had to close early. Big plaid can do that.

The paradox of Mark’s outfit is a funny metaphor for who he was—half goofy and half professional. Living life in Tuxedo Plaid.

American Pride

Shortly after the terrorist attacks that hit our nation on 9/11, a surge of patriotism emerged throughout the land. People began to proudly fly the American flag everywhere.  There were flags on cars, flags on homes, flags on hats and flags on dogs.  One of the most moving displays I saw during this time appeared right here in Laguna Beach when a local art gallery in Laguna Canyon projected a large, bold image of the American flag onto the mountainside for everyone to see as they drove in and out of our city at night.  It was beautiful.  And considering the times and circumstances we were facing as a nation, it was breathtaking. But after the war began the flag on the mountainside disappeared. I missed it when it was gone. Seeing that flag at night was a reminder to pray.  A reminder to pray for our nation, for our leaders, for our soldiers, for our freedom and for our safety.

When the friends and loved ones of Mark Metherell began putting flags in their yards in honor of Mark, the memory of that canyon flag immediately came to mind.  Upon inquiring with 7 Degrees art gallery about it I learned they had received negative mail and complaints to a point that It was decided by the City that it was an unapproved display of art and they were forced to stop projecting that flag. But as they listened to the story of Mark Metherell and heard of his character and his service, they decided to see what they could do.  The projector and the flag image were stored away, but if they could retrieve it they said they would fly it again in honor of Mark until after his services, even if they get calls and are once again forced to take it down. 

Last night, Tuesday, I drove by the gallery and there it was – boldly shining on the mountainside.  Proud, large and flying high. 

So if you live in the area of Laguna Beach in southern California where Mark grew up and where his family now lives, drive into Laguna Canyon and look for it on the north face of the mountain across from the Sawdust Festival. It will be there through Sunday night, April 20th.  If you are not able to drive by it for yourself, I’ve posted an image of it below for you to see.

God bless you, Mark.  Thank you.  And God bless every American and non-American who is fighting for truth and justice.  We appreciate you and we regard you with honor.  God is with you. 

Vicki High

Mark was my husband David’s best friend, and I adored him—though it took a year or so after a very funny first impression of Mark for this love and adoration on my part to actually take hold! When I first met Mark nearly 15 years ago, David and I were living in a damp, drafty little cottage on Oak Street in St. Helena, in the Napa Valley. Enter Mark Metherell… and David Burchi with him. I had heard so much about “Metherell”—David talked constantly about how brainy and kick-ass he was, and how he was a surfer and a poet and loved literature—to me he sounded like some kind of minor god, and I couldn’t wait to meet the guy. So when he and Dave Burchi showed up for a visit one weekend I was anticipating a civilized weekend of quaffing wine and talking about Dostoyevsky with the legendary Metherell and Burchi… Well: while David and I finished up our workday, Mark and Burchi had hit the local watering hole called the Pastime, and they had hit it hard.  By the time David and I got home from work, Mark and Burchi were well on their way, and Mark threw up in my bathroom for two days straight. I was annoyed to say the least. I’m ashamed to say that at some point during that weekend (maybe right around the time I was cleaning vomit out of the shower) I told David that his friends were idiots. Mark and I were not off to a good start, and let’s not even get started on Burchi!

Fast forward a few years to my first real memory of getting to know Mark and realizing that he was not in fact an idiot, but a great human being. David and I had had our oldest son Schuyler, and Mark had come to Northern California to visit us just before New Year’s 1995. I remember that it was about a week after Mark Foo had died surfing Mavericks, and we drove to Half Moon Bay to get a glimpse of the spot and pay our respects. We stood on the bluff overlooking Mavericks; the breaking waves sounded like thunder. It was sunny but cold. I don’t remember what we talked about that day, but I remember that Mark carried Schuyler in the backpack, and we stood there on the bluffs in quiet conversation for quite some time. That weekend, I discovered a bit of the Mark Metherell that I had been hoping meet. He was soft-spoken but straightforward, kind and funny with our baby son, and fully in possession of that unique-to-Mark quality that I have come to love: depth of character AND goofiness, happily, simultaneously coexisting.

Over the years I got to know Mark even better—he had become a Navy SEAL, and was always off doing really cool, dangerous-sounding things that he couldn’t tell us about or he would have to kill us. Our visits with him were sometimes few and far between, but he and David always picked up right where they had left off. And then enter Sarah: David and I didn’t get to meet her until we came to Laguna for their wedding weekend, but Mark had told us about her, and she sounded every bit as amazing as he was…and when I got to know her, I found out that she was, and is. Two incredibly smart, talented, daring world travelers had found each other and fallen in love...It has always seemed to me like Mark and Sarah’s life and adventures together were like something out of a movie. And one of my favorite memories of Mark is the way, almost at a loss for words and with his characteristic humility, he described Sarah to my husband just before we met her at the rehearsal dinner: “Dude, you have just got to meet her. I don’t even know what to say. She is just SO HOT I have no idea what she’s even doing with me!!” He shrugged and shook his head, as if to say, I don’t understand this, and just don’t blow my cover! And, as anyone who knows Mark and Sarah will attest, his passion for Sarah never wavered. Mark was so, so in love with her.

I treasure my first impression of Mark, vomit and all, because it makes me laugh. It contrasts so sharply with the more recent memories I have of a man who became a close, dear friend over the past 15 years. And anyone who knows Mark knows that what made him so amazing was that he was a study in contrasts, a paradox. You can’t sum him up by pointing to just one of his many fine qualities, because it’s really the beautiful tension between his seemingly opposite qualities that made Mark who he was. 

He was a man’s man who (I have heard!) could be blunt and bracing, but I knew him to be gentle and tactful. He was a man of action who didn’t like to sit around and waste time, but he always seemed to have time to talk to my children and take them spearfishing and surfing. He was a man of God whose uncompromising faith informed every aspect of his life, but he was refreshingly un-churchy, un-stuffy, and free of clichéd answers and religious jargon. Mark was fiercely intelligent and well-read, a lover of stories of great battles and heroes; but he was also capable of telling the funniest, most profane story you can imagine, with perfect comedic timing and a twinkle in his eye. Another contrast I find so funny: I used to tease Mark about the fact that he feared and hated public speaking and being the center of attention, but jumping out of an airplane? No problem!

I could go on and on: I knew Mark to be a skilled soldier but also a devoted, diaper-changing dad. He was warrior but also a poet. He was a child of privilege, born to a loving family, with every conceivable advantage in life, but was one of the most humble, unassuming people I’ve ever known.

If I could say one more thing to Mark, it would be “Thank you.” Thank for being the friend to my husband that you were. Thank you for being “Uncle Mark” to my sons. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being a loving husband to my friend Sarah and an absolutely smitten father to Cora. Thank you for your service to our country and to the cause of freedom. And if I were pressed to sum up Mark in one phrase, I would say that he was a prince in flannel shirts and flip-flops.

Since Mark loved books, and was a citizen of the world and a man of faith, I want to close with a quote from the poet-priest John Donne. Most everyone has heard his famous statement that “No man is an island”—but this is a slightly less familiar part of that quote that I think speaks particularly well to Mark’s life:

“All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators: some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation; and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again….”

I had the honor of being Mark’s platoon commander at SEAL Team Five from 1997-1999.  We became good friends during that time and I was proud to have him at my wedding in ’99.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that he was one of the anchors of the platoon… a rare breed, even among SEAL operators.  In addition to being one of the more experienced guys in the platoon, and the best surfer, he was our lead communicator, possibly the most critical role in a SEAL platoon- responsible for ensuring that wherever we were- whether in the arctic (yes we were there), or in the rugged mountains along the Korean DMZ (there too), or some tiny island in the Pacific (there too) or on the front lines in the Middle East (yep), that we always had good radio contact with our supporting aircraft or boats, and satellite and computer communications back to headquarters.  When you’re a small team behind enemy lines, your only life-line to any type of help is your communicator. Obviously this job required a huge amount of technical expertise, but most don’t realize it also entails tremendous physical effort.  Because we’re so often on our feet, slogging through the snow or up a mountainside, how much we carry is always an issue of contention.  And 2 guys in particular are loaded down like mules: the heavy machine gunner (who’s carrying a huge weapon along with thousands of rounds of ammo), and the communicator (carrying at least 2, sometimes 3 radios, at 20lbs a piece, plus a ruggedized computer, plus several antennas, plus numerous batteries called ‘bricks’, plus his own gear and weapons and ammunition.)

To illustrate a standard job for Mark: right before we deployed we had to pass a graded training mission off the coast of Alaska.  After several days of preparation, with little sleep during those busy days, in late afternoon we embarked on one of our high-speed boats for a 6 hour hammering ride through rough seas.  Finally we launched in our small rubber Zodiacs which brought us closer to our insertion point.  After a 30 minute swim in the icy water, towing our 100lb rucks and weapons, we made it through pounding surf to shore, only to then scale massive cliffs, at night, with Mark hauling the heaviest equipment.  Reaching the top of the cliffs we then were able to patrol to our target, 6 miles inland.  Throughout this grueling approach- just to reach our objective, we welcomed any chance to stop and rest for awhile.  Unfortunately, while the rest of us sat down and maybe pulled out something to eat, Mark had to pull out his communications gear, check in with our support craft, then figure out the correct bearing and azimuth to the satellite- and type out an encrypted message to headquarters and receive any additional instructions.  Plus he was almost always doing this at night, usually in bitter cold or rain or snow, and sometimes having to climb a tree to get the satellite dish in a good line-of-sight position.  But Mark never failed, and even though we were back on our feet and moving the second he packed everything up, he never once complained. 

Many times I thanked God for Mark- and this was before I became a Christian.  He was always unflappable, always on top of things, never complaining, always upbeat and ready for anything.  The nicest guy in the world but tough as nails.  I later came to realize that a big reason he was different was his Christian faith.  He was down to earth, easy going, but at the same time his actions were without reproach, both on and off the job.  I’ve had several friends who were killed in the past 6 years, but hearing about Mark hit me particularly hard.  He was a great man, a shining light in a dark world, and will be missed.