July 18, 2007

is this the party to whom I am speaking?

And so it continues in the land of email…

Is this the same Dave Demar that I know? Either way could you let me know?

I'm looking for David E. DeMar, formerly of Farmington, New Mexico. If you are he, I'd love to hear from you and catch up a bit. If not, many apologies for bothering you.

…fun stuff.

An old buddy from way back in the day came through town a week or so ago. We had not seen or heard from one another in just short of ten years. We were pretty tight back in the college days. The day after we graduated from undergrad I had moved out to New Mexico by way of northern Nevada. Eventually, during a chilly winter on the high plains, having found myself surrounded by angry middle-aged divorcées in my place of employment, I split town for Japan.

I showed up at Dave’s little apartment and took up teaching English as an accidental roadside attraction between day tours and ferry rides across the sea to Pusan, South Korea. Those were interesting days that require time to offer adequate adjective and metaphor in expressing the wonder and adventure of my early 20’s.

My pal Dave had found me on that new-fangled-internet-deal that everyone’s always talking about. It seems, when slid through a search engine, my name has circled around to being attached to a legit email address and job description…this searching appears a common practice when old friends fall off the radar for decades at a time. As evidenced by today’s entry into “is dave there?” files.

Tim, a braver man than I, and one whom stayed put while surrounded by the angry middle-aged divorcées, contacted me today. His son is 14. I remember making his ever so pregnant wife banana cream pies when I landed at their home on my return from Japan. Those were some interesting days in the little town of Aztec.

It is odd to respond to emails asking me if I am who I am, from a friend that knows me as I was…I laugh, and respond in a resounding, “Yes I am the party to whom you are speaking…” [can an email resound?] This eventually leads to phone calls, chatting, and in the case of Dave D, a quick visit in the 100-plus heat afforded to us by the month of July.

Trying to condense the years past into informational blurbles was awkward at best, so I quit trying. He knew where I’d been, and could see where I was now…the “what happened” part could be told slowly over the next few years. I had sent out the “what happened” letters years before during my time at the mission. From these handfuls of letters I received only one response…so it goes with our pursuit of the Lord.

Last time we talked I was running million-dollar jobs and flying all over the west, and now I live in my buddies garage…we laugh, as there is agreement of being in a better place (the ‘spoken’ witness of God’s role in this left for visits down the road). After a cup of coffee, a good supper, seeing the sights of Redding and some ice cream - I get the look. “You know I was worried after hearing about this ‘big’ change in your life that you may have gotten all weird…like the moonies or something. But it seems like you and your friends have your heads on straight.”

The next morning my friend is off to Santa Rosa, leaving with plans of my visit to his family in the fall. And now I see reason for another good stop for the ever impending trip to my storage unit…Taken back that my old friend’s children are almost driving – I see God pulling His community together in His time, through treads I would have thought dried up and blown away long ago.

1 comment:

Sabriel said...

This is a nice post. It reminds me that you have found redemption in God, even if you are often reminded of how you might not deserve it. It's underlying message to me is that there is a such thing as second chances and unlimited grace. It also says that David, you are getting older! Is it possible that a man with who is so younge at heart sometimes is aging? It probably feels as though you are not, given the scope of your experiences, but I see a kid in you sometimes. Good to hear from you Dave, Tanya.