My oldest brother Jerry

Yesterday brought the conversation one hopes never to have: My oldest brother Jerry, severely brain-damaged at birth, was given a diagnosis of likely cancer. The treatment for his weakened body would be invasive and painful, with uncertain results. 

A painful choice was made through tears, prayer, and loving conversation. Jerry would be placed in hospice care. Four siblings of a gentle and loving 80-year-old man made the decision, which was painful yet hopeful. 

Gordon Cosby, from Church of the Savior, once said we must realize that we all sit next to someone seated next to their own pool of tears. To love one another and to listen to one another and to help each other grow as apprentices of Jesus, we are invited by life to pay attention to our own tears of grief.

God is present to us in our tears. 

David knew this as he wrote in Psalm 23, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”  Tears are not the enemy. Painful decisions are not the enemy. Suffering is not necessarily the enemy either. God is present in our tears. Henri Nouwen described life as “the time in which sadness and joy kiss each other at every moment.”  

As I write this, Jerry is still with us. Our tears are still with us. Our love for him will always be with us, this grandson of Swedish immigrants. When Mary went alone to Jesus’ tomb, a most remarkable thing occurred: Jesus was present to Mary in her tears and suffering. She did not recognize him until Jesus spoke one word. It was the word of resurrection, redemption, acceptance, healing, and joy. “Mary,” he said. In that single word, Mary was given the gift that we all long for—to be known by Jesus and to remember that Jesus calls us by name.

All of this returns me to a question James Houston asked when I needed it most. On a late-night call, we discussed many issues when he suddenly turned a sharp corner with what seemed like a random question.

“Did you know yourself to be loved, deeply loved as a ten-year-old boy?”   

Of course, I was loved! But I did not say it aloud.

I knew my parents loved me. But James knew that our adult selves are shaped by experiences, memories, deficits, and even the trauma of absence for our childhood selves. 

I now live in memories of Jerry, my older brother, who continued to function at about the cognitive level of a 6-year-old. Today, he is in hospice care. Each time I call him, I wonder if this is the last time I’ll hear him say my name aloud or close the call with his gruff, “I love you.”  

James’s question is one of the most important questions to ask of mentees. 

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t know myself loved in that way at age 10,” was my answer. “I quite thought so,” was his response. 

Later, it served us well as a primary topic for the ongoing conversations of spiritual friendship we call spiritual mentoring.

 Ask and journal:  Did you know yourself to be deeply loved at age 10?

 

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Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com: https://www.pexels.com/photo/tears-on-face-of-crop-anonymous-woman-4471315/
Photo by August de Richelieu: https://www.pexels.com/photo/father-and-son-hugging-4260097/