Awoke to 5 text messages from my mother that composed one long text chronicling my baby brother's nightmare of last night and this morning where he was kidnapped, assaulted, car-jacked, robbed, and fired upon.
Before my brother, Drew, was born, my dad received confirmation from God that Drew had a great calling on his life.
Within 12 months, he's had 2 near death experiences; the other I wrote of in August.
An hour ago, I received this text from my mom:
"Drew said the two guys were so stupid that he felt like he spent the night with cookie monster and big bird, i cracked up"
At 7 a.m., I received the following 5 messages containing the below text, character for character (I only excluded names)"
"Hey kids, dad and i are on our way to OKC to see drew, he got off work last night and was at the gate of a gated community where XXX and XXX live, and two black guys held a gun to him and told him to scoot over, they were wild, wrecked his car, took drews phone, his gold ring i gave him, they gave him a hard time, but he eventually got away and took off through some woods running for a few miles, he is banged up,they were shooting at him, he was running and hiding. Poor guy was praying the whole time. He went door to door until someone helped him and they called the cops. Please, please pray for him pray they find the guys and his car. He is ok, but emotionally shattered, he is giving god all the glory."
Upon the initial surreal experience of reading this, knowing it was my baby brother's experience, I, of course, was reading as fast as possible to get to the part that mentioned he was okay. I didn't know that part existed. That part could have easily been the opposite, and all that could have entailed. Upon my reading reading, I felt he had to be okay, he had to be okay he had to had to....
Last night I was on a terrace on the Upper West Side, having Cotes du Rhone and hors d'oeuvres on a gorgeous spring night while my brother was quite literally running through hell.
"Consider the lillies." "Death brings perspective." etc.
When my baby brother is tormented by the least financial concerns or whatever petty concern overwhelms a teenager, I pray. When he escapes death, I have to believe there is a God who listens. There is only the slimmest of rare circumstances that prevented me from receiving a text in which my brother was not alive and not jokingly calling his tormentors Big Bird and Cookie Monster. For this moment, I'll be eternally grateful. And hope to maintain that gratitude, regardless of what else happens for the remainder of my relatively short time span on this rock of soil, water, blood, and wonder.