One year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds. The Earth has rotated on it’s crooked axis 365 times. It was travelled all the way around the Sun to arrive at the exact same place in space as it was one year ago. All this time has passed, but on that day one year ago, time seemed to stand still.
It was one year ago that I said goodbye to my friend Orie Wenger. I’ve been thinking about writing a post about my feelings of the moment when he left, and it’s taken me a year for my emotions to calm down enough to write something worthy enough to be tied to his name, so here it goes.
The first time I attended Mt. Zion Christian Fellowship was on Easter 2003. It was the first time I had been to church in nearly 9 years. My girlfriend at the time and her family attended and invited me to come. I absolutely fell in love with the church and the service. Afterward, once my girlfriend’s family was assured that I actually enjoyed myself and wasn’t freaked out by the service, her mother mentioned to me that the pastor was missing a finger on his left hand. Now, I did what any normal person would do, the very next Sunday, I went back and the entire service was trying to see if I could see his hand.
Some time later, Orie took over teaching the high school ministry and that was really the first time I got to know him personally. Let me tell you, I honestly think that man enjoyed making people uncomfortable for their own good. One night at church, he had everyone break into partners and they were going to pray over each other. Now, I had only been going to church for a year and didn’t really know anyone very well and I still wasn’t comfortable with outwardly religious display. Everyone partnered up and I ended up the odd man out. Guess who became my partner… that’s right, Orie. The first thing he asked me to do was to pray over him. I was so scared, but I did it. Afterward, I really felt a trust and connection to the man.
Through the years I got closer to the people that worked at the church and would spend most of my free time during the day hanging out there and helping with anything I could. I would always see Orie come out of his office walking down the hallway and if he was happy, he was always singing or saying “al-le-lu-ya”! If he wasn’t in a good mood, he would hum, and you knew to keep out of his way. But no matter his mood, when he would pass me or see me, he was just say “Ste-Vaan”. I miss hearing that.
Fast forward to Lydia and I. Around the start of 2006, Lydia and I started becoming close friends and so I was around her house and dad more. I got to know Orie on many new levels, some I bet that most people never did. I sweated with the man. I bled with the man. I got splinters from his porch. I helped him pour concrete. I helped him build things. He was my friend.
When he announced that he was sick with cancer, I was scared but I never lost faith and hope. Every day, I woke up and prayed for him and spoke healing over him. I knew without a doubt that the cancer would go away, I never once thought otherwise. In the end, his cancer was gone, he went home whole.
I can’t believe that it has been a whole year already. It has gone by so fast, but every day has gone by too slow as well. The pain is still fresh and so is the memory. I will never forget Orie. Some people called him Pastor. Some called him brother. Some called him son. Some called him Papa. I called him friend. He was my friend, one of the very best that I have ever had and my life will never be the same for having known him. I miss you, friend.
