It was Sunday. Mom was up early as usual. I could hear her T.V. come on. Dad was probably relaxing down stairs, flipping the channels to find his cooking show. Sometimes he made mom a nice breakfast before she left for church and sometimes he went to church with her. I rarely, well I should say…never went. Christmas, Easter, maybe Mother’s Day; that is about the extent of it. I am a rebel. I know it. I enjoy being one. My mom prays for me. I really don’t care. She has her thing, I have mine. My belief in God is just fine. I don’t have to be all churchy and holy to know God.
“Jake, mom calls up stairs. Jake…can I talk to you for a minute?”
“What?” I yelled back.
“Can you come down here? There is something I want to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait…later…?” I said still half asleep.
“Jake…please. It will only take a second.” mom pleaded.
Half dressed and a few expletives later I am standing in the kitchen looking at my parents.
“Jake, your brother is coming for a visit. He will be here at the end of the month. Do you think you two could patch things up?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he will ever forgive me. I’ll probably just leave and go somewhere else so you guys can all visit. I really don’t want to deal with all that drama.”
“Jake, it’s been five years now. Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger. This makes us so sad. You need to admit your deceit to him and tell him of all the circumstances and maybe he is at a better place to be more understanding. Time does heal things you know.”
“Let me think…give me some time…”
I head back upstairs. Five years ago, I had lied. The lie cost my brother a relationship, a relationship he never was able to repair. It also destroyed our relationship. My rebellious attitude was never going to allow me to apologize back then. My brother left. My mom prays.
That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I could not get to sleep. I kept going over and over in my mind what to say, how to explain, if I should at all. My pride was really messing with my head. I also kept thinking about my mom and how this hurt her so. Well, I was the one still hurting her all these years with my anger. All of a sudden, “boom”…I was on the floor. How in the heck did that happen? I haven’t fallen out of bed since I was a little kid. Not only did I make a loud noise, but I was in pain.
Mom and Dad both came rushing in. I could not stand up, dislocating my hip. At the E.R., the doctor proceeded to snap it back in place, give me something for the pain and a set of crutches.
While in the E.R. I told my mom how anxious I was about Evan coming.
“Mom, I sent Evan a letter. I sort of explained things and also I got tickets to the game.” I unexpectantly confessed.
“Well, that’s a start.” Mom replied.
My brother arrived. I avoided him for two days. Finally, I had the courage to limp into the house and see him face to face. Evan grabbed me and immediately gave me a hug. I was in awe and shock. He handed me an envelope. Inside were two tickets to the game. Not my two tickets…but two tickets he had bought himself. We had been thinking the same thing. I began to say something and he quickly stopped me. He was different. Was I different? I felt such a burden coming off me, like a pressing force had been holding me underwater for so long and the only breath I could take was also filled with angry words towards those I was suppose to love.
“Well, it looks like you have been wrestling with God as usual”, my brother Evan chided.
Yeah, except this time, God didn’t just touch me, he gave me a big shove.” I truthfully answered to Evan.
Yep, and now we have four tickets to the game… a blessing I am sure we can enjoy.
My hip will click sometimes, and when it does, it reminds me of a promise I made to myself. Nothing will ever come between my brother and me again.
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