WHERE ART THOU, OGH MY BROTHER

The evening that the General died she came and bid me farewell. The General's Aide had called a little earlier to tell me that she had crossed over and beyond the veil. I lay down on my bed to collect myself and reflect. Like a whisk of mist, I felt her presence. I knew she was there to tell me she had entered into another dimension. I felt peaceful and not at all alarmed.

The day of her funeral, I’d made a commitment to say a few words in her memory. I sat there in my grief at a complete loss. I decided to try and communicate with her. “Mother, I know you're here and I need your help. You served the Lord all of your life. Will you please ask Him to give me the strength and the words to pay homage to you?” A great peace came over me and I was able to do what I’d so desired. I had no doubt about her spiritual presence.

On the 23, of February in the year 2000 I was lying on my bed. I had been working on this account of my early childhood with our family for several months. I had decided early on that I was going to devote a chapter to each of my siblings. I had delayed in writing about my older brother until last. Suddenly, I felt the General’s presence. Then in my mind’s eye, I saw her. She was to the right of my physical presence, hovering about eight feet in the air. I couldn’t focus my physical eyes on her but I knew she was there. She was neither young, old, physical or spiritual. She was, therefore, she is. I felt a peace come over me, and I wondered if I was dreaming. Then, in a voice, which was not audible, she spoke to me, “I know you're getting ready to write about your brother, Darrel. I’ve come to help you. There are some things you all must know.”

“Please, tell me what you want me to say.”

“When you sit down to write, you will know.”

The following day I sat down at my computer and waited for what seemed like an eternity. I had begun to think I might’ve imagined the event of the previous evening. Suddenly, the following impressions entered my mind.

“When my son, Darrel, was born I was a young woman of twenty-three. He was delivered after much pain and a long labor. They took him from my body and slapped him on his little rear. He was bloody, and the cord was still attached, when I first saw him. He was hanging upside down and crying. My heart jumped with joy. I’d participated with God in creation. It was a glorious moment, and felt as one with the Creator. They washed him clean, and I took him to my bosom. I felt his warm mouth as he found my breast. It was a happy, comfortable feeling of contentment. I had fulfilled one important part of God's plan for my life.

A couple of months after he was born I sat in the rocking chair nursing him. I looked down and our eyes met. I felt his little mouth pulling on me gently. We were united as only a mother and child can be. As I looked, the gates of heaven opened her doors and the power of love engulfed me. I knew, at that moment, I had been given a divine responsibility. I was required, at whatever cost, to always protect him. He stopped nursing. I held him away from me and looked at him for a long time. He’d smile, throw his little hands up, stretch and goo. It was one of my happiest moments.

Before my second son came was the happiest time of my life. My husband and I were so much in-love. He’d come into the house with a big smile and pick up our son. We thrilled in each other’s presence. He’d grab me around the waist with one arm and hold the baby in the other and we’d dance the dance of love. We were full of hope, our future stretched out before us. My husband loved me and he was a hard worker. There was no reason to think we wouldn’t be comfortable in our lives. I had previously made a commitment to the Lord to do whatever He asks of me. I knew, from reading the Bible that was required if we were going to be happy.

The spring after my oldest son’s birth, he started to sit up. I would dress him in a diaper and place him on a quilt in front of the screen door. He’d play there for hours in the cool breeze. I would tie old spools, from thread, together and give them to him. He’d shake them up and down and sing as he rocked his little body to and fro. I’d happily watch him as I worked. He was long and lean of body and had a slim face. He was such a beautiful child to look upon. I was so full of love for him that I thought my heart might burst. He was my firstborn and I would never love another child in quite the same way.

I loved my husband in a different way than I loved my son. Daily, I renewed my life with Christ and studied the bible. I was determined to do everything in my power to follow his teachings. I was blessed with a special faith from the very first day I accepted the Lord. I never had any doubt that the Holy Spirit accompanied me in all things. I felt His presence and trusted in Him, all the days of my life. I never had any doubt about what was the right thing to do under any circumstance. I was human and had my faults, but I stood redeemed. I always remained ready to be taught by the Holy Spirit if I had erred.

I would have gladly given my whole life for this first born. I felt the love that I had for him alone, gave me more happiness than anyone deserved. I knew my husband had lost his mother at an early age and needed lots of attention. There were times when it was quite trying. He drained me. He looked to me for all of his emotional support. All he’d missed in his earlier life; he now wanted from me. He was often jealous of our son, even though he loved him. He always had to come first. I knew that was the way of a family in accordance with the teachings of the Holy Bible. Therefore, I accepted it. Had I not been committed to the teachings of Christ we would’ve had conflict. But I knew if I did the best that I could, He would take care of us.

When my second son was born, he came out fighting mad. He had a bushy head of hair and a fiery, red face. He cried for three solid months. I loved this second son, but he was not of a gentle spirit like my firstborn. This child perplexed me. My husband seemed to delight in the fact that I was pulled away from our firstborn to care for him.

I knew from the beginning that my second son was going to be conflictive. He was nervous, easily spoiled and quick-tempered. He’d hold his breath and almost pass out. He was difficult to keep dressed as he had almost no hips and the diapers would slide off. Yet, somehow, I knew this second son had been given a special place in the family. His ability to communicate and his warrior like personality drew us to him. Years later he would come to unite and lead us in times of crisis.

Although I loved them equally, I felt a closeness for my first son that I didn't have for the second. My firstborn was orderly and obedient. From the beginning, he brought me joy. Never, did he bring me grief. He had tenderness and a sensitivity about him that endeared me to him.

My second son not only challenged me but everyone around him. He was always at war with his older brother. When the oldest pulled left, he’d pull right. When they were together there was no harmony. I searched Genesis and read the story of Cain and Abel. I spent hours praying for peace between them and all brothers. My oldest was strong and determined. I assumed that he would dominate, and the second would follow. This was not to be. The younger one was slighter of frame and narrower in the shoulders, however, he was not to be conquered. He was an angry child, and struggled to free himself from the domination of being born second. He seemed determined that my efforts to train them to work together and love each other would fail.

When my firstborn was six years old, my husband took him as his helper. As the years passed he increased his labor. My husband was a boy himself, and the responsibility of a family lay heavily on his shoulders. I didn’t understand that my baby was being denied a normal childhood at that time. I was too busy caring for the others. My oldest, being so willing and loving, took on the work of a man by the time he was ten years old. He didn't play games like other children. He seemed tired when he wasn’t working. Having to take on responsibility at an early age gave him an air of seriousness, much like that of an adult. His relationship with the farm animals was a working one and he showed no interest in having a pet.

I watched him grow into a beautiful, handsome young man. He had pure, honest, blue eyes, and blonde, wavy hair. When he smiled, it melted my heart. He was my angel on earth and his voice was like music to my ears. Before I was ready, he’d grown up and fallen in love. Time had passed too fast, and before I could act, he’d missed his whole childhood. I lamented the loss, but I followed the Holy Word. I knew that God’s plan was for a young man to grow up, find a wife, and cleave to her. It was in the Holy Bible. I never questioned it. I received peace from knowing that this was the way of the Lord.

The struggle of life went on. He left my side and followed the path of his destiny. He never once, in my whole life, said a crossword to me. I never doubted that he loved me. I knew he stood at my beckon call. I also knew if I did summon him, it might cause conflict in his marriage. My love for him was, and is, great. I remember those gentle moments when he suckled my physical breast, and looked up at me with those beautiful, pure, blue eyes. I want him to know how much I loved him. We will soon be together again. Crossing through the veil is a wonderful experience. None of you must fear it. We, of this side stand ready to receive you. This has been a special gift that I’ve been allowed to communicate to you. I hope everyone will recognize it as such and not reject it.”