Yesterday, I was trying to make arrangements with my brother to give him his birthday present. This is the conversation that unfolded:
Me: …I’m not sure if I will be home, so just call me.
Sandy: Why? Why aren’t you going to be home? What are you doing?…Do you have a boyfriend?
Sandy: Why not?
Me: Well (pause as I tried to come up with a clever response to no avail)….I don’t know.
Sandy: I think I know.
Me: Really? Why is that? [insert sarcasm here]
Sandy: You are too picky.
Me: Well, shouldn’t I be? [sarcasm continues]
Sandy: How’s that working out for you? [sarcasm countered]
Me: Pretty well, I think. I’m not really worried about it. God will take care of it.
Sandy: [Laughing skeptically] God’s gonna take care of it? (pause) Are you out on Match.com or anything?”
Me: No. No, I’m not.
Sandy: What if God needs some help?
Me: I’m pretty sure God doesn’t need any help. (pause) What is wrong with you, anyway? What’s up with these questions?
Sandy: …I’ve just been thinking about you lately, and…well, I just don’t want you to end up alone.
I’m pretty sure those last nine words were the sweetest that my brother has ever said to me. At first, they caught me off guard. Shocked by the sincerity in his voice, and the love that was so obviously behind them, I struggled to find the words. When I did find them, they seemed inadequate: “I appreciate that.”
I hung up the phone and felt an unfamiliar and slight shift in my heart. It wasn’t until later in the day, when I was sharing this moment with Robyn, that the tears came. But why? Why the tears?
You see, as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to know that my brother loves me and cares about me. The sincerity behind his words told me both.
Today, as I breathe in deeply the sweet aroma of my brother’s sentiments, I feel some old wounds begin to heal. Wounds inflicted long ago that the devil has used far too often.