I left my dad to his mail and returned to the living room to find Liz snoring gently from the couch and Brady nowhere in sight.
It was time to start thinking about what we should do for dinner, but before I went to the kitchen to rustle something up, I decided to search for my brother. I found him upstairs in his room, just sitting on the side of the bed and gazing out of the window.
Summoning my nerve, I gave a light rap on the doorway and stepped inside.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
From somewhere in the distance, I could hear the distinct whoosh of wood on metal. Skateboards. Stepping further into the room, I moved to Brady’s bed and sat as well, watching through the window as Chris and some of his friends skated past on the street, whooping and hollering all the way.
“I heard what you said to Dad about football,” Brady told me, his eyes still on the kids. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I glanced at him, at his innocent young face, so unmarked by time, and I could clearly see the sadness of too many lost yesterdays that we as brothers had never shared and never would.
“My mom was born Amish,” I began softly. “I know you know that. And I’m sure you know she gave up everything about her Amish life when she married Dad. But she passed something on to me before she died. She passed on her love for that other life.”
Brady shifted, his eyes still on the kids outside who were now just specks in the distance. “Why are you telling me this? You don’t owe me any explanations about why you decided to stay.”
“But you’re wrong. I do. When Dad came back for me, I could barely remember that I had ever lived anywhere but right there in Lancaster County. My mother’s parents treated me like their own son, and I felt safe and loved there. I was afraid to give up that security because I’d been forced to give it up once before, when my mom died and Dad sent me to live with people I had only just met. I didn’t have the maturity to figure out what I was turning my back on, Brady. I didn’t stop to think that my staying meant you would grow up with an older brother you hardly ever saw. The truth is, the three of you seemed complete without me. I didn’t want to mess with that. And I confess I didn’t want to be messed with, either.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t believe Dad let you go like that. He would never let me stay somewhere just because I wanted to. He should have made you come.”
“I think he wrestles with that decision too. But I also know he was torn by wanting to do what would honor my mom. When she died, he didn’t just lose a wife, you know? He lost the mother of his child. There were no easy fixes. I understand, and I have forgiven him. None of us is perfect.”
Outside the window, the whirring sounds of the skateboard wheels had all but faded.
“You’re going back, aren’t you,” he said, his voice flat. “For good this time.”
“I am going to join the Amish church, yes. It’s what I want. It’s where I belong.”
“Because we’re not good enough for you.”
I sought his gaze, but he still wouldn’t look at me. “Because I am Amish to my very core. Because I can see now that this is God’s will for my life.”
He grunted.
“You told me, Brady, just after I got here, that you love football but that you would give it up before you would live your life as a slave to it. You have the right to decide what kind of life you’re going to lead and if football is going to be a part of it. We all have the freedom to decide what kind of life we will lead. I am choosing to go back because it’s the life I love. It’s who I want to be. It’s who God made me to be.”
Finally, he turned to look at me, his eyes still filled with accusation. “If you’d made the right decision the first time, none of this would be happening now. Don’t you get that?”
I let his question settle between us, his pain hanging there in the air.
Lord, show me how to make him understand.
A burst of laughter wafted up from far down the street. Chris and his friends were racing back our way, and in that moment, I knew what to say.
“Look at Chris,” I said, pointing out of the window.
Brady did as I said, turning back. “Yeah? So?”
“So what do you see when you look at him?”
He shrugged, defensive. “I don’t know. He’s a kid.”
“Right. He’s young. In fact, he’s still just a child, right?”
Brady glared at me, as if to say, Enough already. “Fine. Yes. He’s just a child. So what?”
I waited a beat and then replied, “So he’s just about the same age I was when our father left the choice of where to live up to me. The same age I was when I made the choice that ended up having such a big impact on your life. On all our lives.”
I wasn’t trying to excuse what had happened. I wasn’t trying to justify it. I was just trying to get my brother to see the truth, that a very adult decision had been thrust upon me when I was still just a little boy.