A Dream about my Lost Brother

The title of this post may have grabbed your attention.
To clear things up, I want to tell you that the boy I will talk about was never certainly going to be my brother.
I will give more details later, but although he was never officially my big brother, he will always be in my heart.
That being said, here is the post I had planned to write:
Last night I had a vivid dream.
Before I tell it, I want to give you a pit of background.
After my parent were married, they hosted a sweet, young boy from Belarus in the summer.
His name was Stas.
He began coming home to spend summer with my family, before I was born, when he was 8 years old.

In fact, Stas was here in the US with my parents when I was at the time of my birth. 
It was a work of God for us through him that I was born at home instead of in VA.
My parent were going to Virginia to see family for July 4th, but Stas suddenly got a high fever and my parents decided to wait. 
And then I was born unexpectantly the next day 6 weeks prematurely on July 3d.
God worked for me and my parents through this sweet little boy, and I will always have him to thank for that, among other thing. 

Stas came every year for 10 wonderful summers.
My parents and I (though my parents remember it better) had the privilege of seeing Stas grow up from a sweet little 8 year old, to an even-sweeter-still 18 year old.
One year my little 6 year-old heart was broken when my big brother, Stas, never showed up.
I have missed him every year since.

Stas was wonderful.
My parents could speak more to this, I have absolutely ZERO memories of Stas misbehaving or giving us a hard time.
What I remember is my "big brother" playing baby dolls with Brandon and me,
swimming in the pool with him, his sincere smile,
 and - maybe my favorite - Stas reading Brandon and me a story book in Belarusian and not being fazed when we laughed our heads off because of how funny the language sounded to us.

And then he would leave.
I don't remember many of the early years,
but I do remember one year when I woke up early (after he had left) and I went upstairs to his room.
All his things were gone.
Every toy was put away.
Every trace of him vanished.
I looked for a picture of him, and couldn't find even that.
That may have been the last year he ever came.
Somehow my 6 year-old heart knew that I'd never see him again on earth.

Stas had a special possession.
It was a stuffed animal Pooh Bear, who he would never take back to Belarus with him for fear of it getting stolen.
 He loved it, and I, as young as I was, could see that.
Years after he left the last time, I gathered Brandon and David in my room and showed them the Pooh Bear. 
I told them how Stas had cherished it.
Then I told them that I had promised to myself that I would keep it for him every year until he returned.  I would not let it get thrown or given away.
I was Stas's, and Stas's it would remain.

But, in my dream,
I was standing in our playroom (of our new house, which Stas has never seen) with my parents.
Kaden and Bethany were there playing as well.
I turned around, and there was Stas, about 16 years old, not saying a word, only standing there with a huge smile on his face and joy in his eyes.
My mouth dropped open and I just stood there, speechless.
Words escaped me and I didn't know what to do.
Not like the awkward silence that occurs when someone forgets their line in a play or anything.
No, it was nothing like that. 
It was a total, joyous overpowering that rendered me speechless.
Suddenly, I ran from the room to get something.
I came back with the Pooh Bear, and placed it in his hands.
And then my dream ended.

In my dream, Stas looked exactly like this

I don't know what exactly it means.
Maybe I will see Stas again on earth.
Maybe God's trying to tell me that I'm released from my promise, as simple as it may be.
Maybe Stas has found a family wherever he is.
Perhaps I can stop remembering him with the twinge of sadness over my loss.
Whatever it may be, I know that God has it under control, and I can simply trust him.
I love you, Stas!

1 comment:

Gandy said...

I think of Stas so often...anytime I hear anything about Russia, or adoption, or grandsons, or big brothers......He so loved being a part of your family...how I, too, wish he could have stayed. Seems so unfair that we had to send him back each year after his visit, but we all knew that this was the only way he could come back the next time. I'm so glad that we had a chance to meet him, and to watch him grow and to be his family forever.