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.
*sigh*
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!
