Back at the Ranch

There are plenty of moments while working here when I have been disappointed by the young men. Whether it was a fight in the local church yard or the food free-for-all at a fancy play, at times, their complete social inept and lack of respect can be almost crippling. There are times when they pull some stunt so mortifying that you don't even recognize the kid who just accomplished the horrible feat, you just sit perplexed, wondering if he even has a soul. There are some fantastic stories from those very rare occasions, but today's was far from one of them.

You see, what outweighs the dim moments are the incredible ones in which their light truly shines; where the capable, loving, successful young men they truly are inside comes shining through for the rest of the world to see, not just me. These moments are the pegs on which I hang my joy, my satisfaction, my drive. Today was, by far, the biggest peg yet.

On February 8th, at the age of 43, Mark Douglas Pettit passed away from this life. I would love to be able to describe for you how much he meant to the Ranch, but my words are hardly adequate. In short, he was a huge man, both in stature and in heart. An avid fisherman, Marine, wrestler, and boxing enthusiast he was no doubt 100% man. He embodied masculinity -- no one, whether you knew him or not, ever doubted his masculinity. He came to make men, and he did for over 17 years. In the days when there was no 24 hour staffing he lived in the boy's houses, raised his two children there, and shared not only his family but his life with literally hundreds of young men. All in all, he was a man's man.

Yet, it wasn't that inherent masculinity that was ultimately his strongest influence. Although he was a mammoth of a man, he carried a gentleness about him like none I have ever seen. He was more than capable of holding his own and dishing out a well deserved plate of tough love, but it was the moments so soft and serene that made the real man shine through. And those soft moments were the ones that changed lives.

I burnt well beyond the midnight oil last night with a young man reflecting on the years of influence "Mr. Mark" had. Yet, what he will ultimately remember about Mr. Mark was the soft moment when Mark casually pointed out the successes the young men was experiencing, however small they were in his own eyes, and said the words the young man had never heard before, "I am proud of you." To you and I that is a sweet gesture of some kind of significance, I'm sure, but to this young man it was a life changing event. He still vividly remembers that day, five years ago, when Mr. Mark "gathered all of my individual successes together and forged the key to open the door to a better life." In five seconds he shared five words that still ring true five years later, and will continue to do so for many years to come.

Today at the funeral were those same boys from the first paragraph, who could have taken this opportunity to do what the outside world would expect from them, creating another story to add to my now, many months later, humorous collection of social faux paws. Instead, dressed in suits, looking and acting like men, they gathered on their own accord, because they wanted to, because they wanted to honor a real man, Mark Pettit. And when the time was offered for those who wished to share, they rose to the occasion again, standing tall, big, strong, yet speaking in the same meaningful, soft voice as the giant they were honoring. Before a packed house each young man came forward, and, with Mark's combination of gentle strength, not only recalled memory after gentle memory, lesson after heartfelt lesson, and comfort after sincere comfort for the family and friends of Mr. Mark, they created for me peg after powerful peg on which I hang my joy, my satisfaction, my drive.

That way tonight, when I take them all out to dinner after three hours of basketball, I can pull each one aside and tell them the truth, maybe for the first time in his life: "I'm proud of you." And with Mark's strength and God's help, maybe that will be the moment that unlocks their door to a better life, after all, it's what they've already done for me.