Older brothers
Brothers...
And prayers...
So I thank God for brothers and prayers, and today, as every day, for Schuyler. Happy birthday, little brother, I love you.
Brothers...
And prayers... I believe in the power of prayer. Now, I have had plenty of experiences that might have made me sway one way or the other on the subject. But to this day, there are just two times that always stand out and make me a believer. One I don’t remember, but am reminded of it daily when I think about my brother. The other I will never forget.
When I came into this world I had three older sisters (whom I love dearly) and a little while later came yet another sister (also, dearly loved). People still gasp sometimes when I tell them I have four sisters. But this post is about brothers and prayers. I’ve been told the first following story, one I that I don’t remember, but like to believe is true.
As a 5 year old little boy, when my mother was pregnant with number 6, someone walked in on me in my room one night. I was down on my knees and praying fervently for this child to be a boy. I loved and still do all my four sisters and have no doubt it was by divine design that I have them. But the Heavens knew that I needed my baby brother, and I needed that prayer to be answered. So I believed, and I got my brother. And thank God for Schuyler, who Heaven knows, 25 years later and now states away, I still need.
The second prayer that I know was answered was a while later, but again, at a time when I needed my little brother. I was playing in our basement when I heard the commotion upstairs. I vividly recall the look of panic in a friend of my brother, Gary’s eyes as he frantically looked for help. Then my memory takes me to an unfamiliar old woman coming to our front door solemnly telling someone to call 911. And just as vividly I recall running out onto our front lawn to see the commotion at the intersection next to our house. A car stopped in the road with a shattered passenger window; a bike with a twisted frame; and people huddled around the kid lying in the street. No, no, no! Not Schuyler...My heart sank to a deep place where it has been only a few times in my life. "I need my brother," was all I could think. I remember much of the rest of that day well: the firemen first to arrive, and the look in Schuyler’s eyes as he was attended to by the medics, by then on the floor in our house.
Schuyler would be fine in the end as it would turn out – some pretty bad gashes, stitches, broken bones and just pretty banged up all around. His collar bone had broken and fortunately in just such a way as to avoid much more serious consequences. But I did not yet know how bad this was going to be.
My last and strongest memory of that day is after Schuyler had been taken to the hospital, and I could not get the impression of him and his face lying there hurting, and me feeling helpless to do anything. I was scared. I knelt down, remembering that heaven had once known I needed my brother. I thought if I could just remind God that I still needed him then he would be OK. He would have to be. I was terrified and crying as I offerred up another prayer. I still needed my brother. That prayer was answered. So I believe.
Now I have two little guys of my own. We were secretly hoping Cal might be a girl. But when he was born, I was taken back a bit at my joy at him being a boy, because I know as well as anyone ever could that in some cases a big brother just needs a little brother.
When I came into this world I had three older sisters (whom I love dearly) and a little while later came yet another sister (also, dearly loved). People still gasp sometimes when I tell them I have four sisters. But this post is about brothers and prayers. I’ve been told the first following story, one I that I don’t remember, but like to believe is true.
As a 5 year old little boy, when my mother was pregnant with number 6, someone walked in on me in my room one night. I was down on my knees and praying fervently for this child to be a boy. I loved and still do all my four sisters and have no doubt it was by divine design that I have them. But the Heavens knew that I needed my baby brother, and I needed that prayer to be answered. So I believed, and I got my brother. And thank God for Schuyler, who Heaven knows, 25 years later and now states away, I still need.
The second prayer that I know was answered was a while later, but again, at a time when I needed my little brother. I was playing in our basement when I heard the commotion upstairs. I vividly recall the look of panic in a friend of my brother, Gary’s eyes as he frantically looked for help. Then my memory takes me to an unfamiliar old woman coming to our front door solemnly telling someone to call 911. And just as vividly I recall running out onto our front lawn to see the commotion at the intersection next to our house. A car stopped in the road with a shattered passenger window; a bike with a twisted frame; and people huddled around the kid lying in the street. No, no, no! Not Schuyler...My heart sank to a deep place where it has been only a few times in my life. "I need my brother," was all I could think. I remember much of the rest of that day well: the firemen first to arrive, and the look in Schuyler’s eyes as he was attended to by the medics, by then on the floor in our house.
Schuyler would be fine in the end as it would turn out – some pretty bad gashes, stitches, broken bones and just pretty banged up all around. His collar bone had broken and fortunately in just such a way as to avoid much more serious consequences. But I did not yet know how bad this was going to be.
My last and strongest memory of that day is after Schuyler had been taken to the hospital, and I could not get the impression of him and his face lying there hurting, and me feeling helpless to do anything. I was scared. I knelt down, remembering that heaven had once known I needed my brother. I thought if I could just remind God that I still needed him then he would be OK. He would have to be. I was terrified and crying as I offerred up another prayer. I still needed my brother. That prayer was answered. So I believe.
Now I have two little guys of my own. We were secretly hoping Cal might be a girl. But when he was born, I was taken back a bit at my joy at him being a boy, because I know as well as anyone ever could that in some cases a big brother just needs a little brother.
I can’t possibly fit the great things about Schuyler into a post, and don’t think he could ever understand anyway why I need him and look up to him as much as anyone I’ve ever known.
So I thank God for brothers and prayers, and today, as every day, for Schuyler. Happy birthday, little brother, I love you.
