My Brother

Ryan Billington

5-8-07

Parables of Jesus

Good Samaritan Story

            Once upon a time in a city far away, my older brother, Dustin, and I attended the prestigious church grade school of Lake City Junior Academy.  Dustin and I had been close for as long as I could remember and even before, shown through photographs and parent-directed films of our youth.  My memories begin to dot the horizon of my past around the year I was in first grade.  At this time, my family recognized that I had diabetes, and our lives were forever changed.  Because of her fear and her desire to watch over me with this new and frightening disease, my mom decided to home school my brother and I my second grade year.  It turned out quite well, and my brother and I had more free time than ever before.  These days were filled with Legos, friends, special forts, gardening, and 2^nd grade Olympic games of street hockey of the youngest versus the oldest brothers. 

            The year past quickly, without many problems from my disease, so my parents decided to send us back to our local church school of Lake City Junior Academy.  The transition was painful and traumatic for me.  All my friends and found new ones, and I found myself at an odd place floating between groups of 8 to 12 year olds, looking for a niche.  The adjustment continued in a agonizingly slow way, dragging out over the next 4 years of school.  Despite the closeness that I had with my parents, home life deteriorated, and I found an explosive temper that lived inside me that lashed at those closest and most vital to my life.  God seemed distant, an object we learned of in school and in church, of who I new much of but did not actually know, a frightening enigma that determined my eternal destiny.  Everywhere I went, problems arose and it didn’t take long for me to find the common variable of all the catastrophes—I created problems.  Fortunately, I had many talents and gifts, and a mindset beyond my years that was forced upon me by my disease.  These and my family assured me of my value and that I could only attempt to live as best I could.  It was in this turmoil that this story takes place.

            It was a wintry spring day.  My brother and I had to stay awhile after school because my mom was working on some project or program.  Most of my friends had already been picked up, so there were only “big kids” around on the playground.  I didn’t know what to do, so I stuck with my brother.  Several the other upper graders were friends or acquaintances of Dustin, who was a few years younger than them.  I think they came over to ask if he wanted to play a game, or shoot some hoops.  They began to make a few playful jabs at me, wondering what I was doing and commenting how I didn’t have the skill or age to be able to play with them.  I remember feeling quite embarrassed and lost, wondering what I would do and how long I would have to be alone before my mom could take us home.  These thoughts were interrupted by the voice of my older brother, who offered some solution, said that I was his brother, and that I could play with them.  I can’t remember any details after that, such as what game we played, or even if we played.  It really didn’t matter.

            It’s been many years and most of my memories are faint.  But that day has always stood out.  I can’t remember the weather, the date, or even what grade I was in.  All I remember is the worth instilled upon me by my brother.  I was his little brother, and he claimed me regardless of how good I was, or what the bigger, “cooler” kids said.  That claim of acceptance and companionship meant the world to me.