Missing our brother

Brandon had spent the last four years hitchhiking around the country and landed in Andover, Kansas.  He hitched a ride north until a cop picked him up and brought him back south to Andover.  Discouraged, he sat outside the local McDonalds to rest.  Now Andover is a relatively small town.  A friend of ours remembers pulling through the drive-thru to order and sees Brandon sitting there.  He thought, "hey homeless," in disgust and drove away.  Later, he felt so terrible ab out seeing Brandon and doing nothing that the next time he saw someone who needed help he was the first to volunteer.  Turns out the guy he picked up was in need of rehab in a bad way so he went the extra mile and checked him into the rehab facility downtown.  And more, he went back every week to pick him up and bring him to church.  Homeless guys can be good friends- as was the case with Brandon.

Eric saw him walking by the church with his inner frame backpack- his life on his back.  Seems Brandon was trying to get another ride north and then on to New Jersey to see his mother (or so the story goes- you never really know if these guys are telling the truth- turns out he was).  So he stopped to rest with us for the night. 

The first thing you notice about Brandon are his eyes- like blue marbles- and a kind, shy smile.  That, and he smelled really terrible.  I once asked him if he ever bathed.  "You're making fun of me," he laughed.  "Not at all," I remarked, "I'm simply concerned about your health.  I wouldn't want you to come down with something... like mange." 

Even with our boys running around the house he slept soundly, wrapped in a puffy down blanket in the center of the living room.  He refused to take a bed.  The blanket had a hole in it so every time Brandon moved there was a puff of white feathers in the air which settled all around and over him like snow.  He reminded me of the peasant companion in "Dances with Wolves-" the guy who takes Kevin Costner to his "post-" the gross guy who has egg and grime all over his face and in his hair and farts while he's sleeping... well, that's what he reminded me of.  Eric pulled him to the bathroom mirror where they stood like two chimpanzees grooming little Brandon- picking the white feathers (and fleas were not out of the question)- from his hair.

He came to church with us that morning.  During the singing he read through my Bible and spent the sermon writing out a long Scripture that he liked on his arm.  Pastor Steve announced that our "new friend Brandon" needed a ride north- just as far as anyone was willing to go.  Bob and Patricia immediately volunteered- driving him the three hours north to Kansas City and buying him a bus ticket for the rest of the trip out east to New Jersey to see his Momma.  So we said goodbye to Brandon but our boys continued to pray for him every night.  We didn't think we would ever see him again.  That was March.

Long story short, he came back in October and has been with us ever since.
He's one of my favorite writing topics because his life amazes me.  He now has his driver's license and a full time job.  He initiates working around the house and playing with our boys.  He is "uncle Brandon" and my little brother.  I'm "big sis."  He just left last Monday for Connecticut- three months with his work.  He said, "I wonder if I will drive past any of the old bridges that I slept under." 

Brandon, we miss you brother.  Be safe and we'll see you when you get home. 
Nothin' but love,
b.