Mark Heinmets–a great friend, a true bro, a fellow member of the Class of ‘03, and an awesome guy to hug–passed from this life to the next on the morning of August 24th due to a climbing accident. Details of the accident are available at: Gazette.com
Mark surprised me with an e-mail four days ago in which he indicated some of his plans had been recently rearranged which had opened up some scheduling availability for him to come visit me while I studied abroad in Hong Kong. I was really excited by the message—thinking Mark might come visit a few weeks into the process made the entire prospect of spending a semester across an ocean seem much more palatable.My response back to him started with the words, “First things first: do know that I would totally love to see this happen, but I can completely understand that with the time/financial commitment involved you decide at any point in the process that it’s not going to work out.” Now, sitting in an airport waiting to board the plane that will bring me home to say goodbye to my friend one last time, I realize that not only will Mark be unable to join me on a trip to Hong Kong, but he’s been reassigned to a new journey and won’t be around to accompany me on this adventure through this rest of this life. But, the investment Mark made in my life will surely only appreciate with distance and time, though the investor will be watching from the other side of eternity.
Every time I talked to Mark, he rekindled a flame within me to love life. He was an incredibly positive guy. He meant it when he said, “Oh, I’m great, John!” whenever he answered his phone and when he reminded us that “life is awesome” when we asked for prayer requests. His optimism was profoundly authentic–not created by a forced smile or a refusal to confront difficulty, but instead fueled by a tremendous awareness of the larger picture and what really mattered. He shared that joy with those around him through smiles and laughter, through encouragement and servanthood, through a willingness to make his time and his life available to us all.
His hopefulness was not limited to the present but also a hallmark of his approach to the future. In a recent conversation when I confessed my anxiety over the daunting responsibility of growing up, I remember his bright words of confidence as he described the thrills that family, careers, and fatherhood would bring. And, now, I realize that those are some thrills Mark will not experience in this life. But, I find solace in knowing that Mark did so much for so many people, that while the future appears cut short, the life he led was more full than any of us will ever know.
Mark also showed me how to dream large and wager big. He was a man of responsible risk; someone who cared for himself and others, but who would not be stopped by challenges or discouragement while pursuing his passions. He found fulfillment in protecting the defenseless, so he learned to fight fires. He felt called to combine his snowsport passions with his faith, so he planned to move to the slopes and launch a ministry through his daily activities. He was eager to do the extraordinary–whether it was climbing mountains, canoeing rivers, traversing new continents, thrashing the helpless in foosball, delivering pizzas to customers who hadn’t ordered them, or putting a car on top of a high school.
Mark impacted my life in countless more ways–influences that will certainly be evident as I continue this Earthly journey and confront persistent reminders of all that is bright and positive, strong and kind, giving and extraordinary. Mark’s testimony of faith was a continual reminder that we don’t have it all figured out, but we serve a God who does. Mark’s departure has broken my heart, but I ask daily for the faith to know that Earth has no sorrow Heaven cannot heal.
So, Mark, I thank you for not only the remarkable job you did in twenty years, but the incredible man you became. I thank you for your hope and confidence. I’ll never forget your humor and adventuresome spirit. You’ve impacted us all through your faith and love. You leave a great void in our hearts, but also an unforgettable example for our futures.
I thank you for being a six-foot-four Swedish angel, in this life and the next. Thank you for doing what you could, where you were, with what you had. Thank you for changing my world.
