"Could be today!"

My brother, Steve, mom and dad's first born, had Down's Syndrome.  

We loved Stevo.  I am sure my siblings would agree: we miss him more than we would miss each other if any of us had died.

Like most people with Down’s, Stevo was by nature joyful and friendly.  (It has occurred to me that, if God created us to be happy, then Down's people are the normal ones; it is we who are disabled.)  Steve was an absolute joy to be around - except during one dark period in his life....

Steve was the oldest of five children.  As we all grew up, he seemed to us a perpetual ten year old.  Steve was always…. Steve.  He didn’t change. Even today I can't think of Steve as a man; He will always be a kid in my mind. As we younger siblings progressed through school and then college and then, one by one, got married, Steve noticed that he wasn't moving on with "life".  He was, after all (as we used to put it back then), retarded; he wasn’t stupid.  He knew something was wrong.  

I became aware of this one day when Steve was with me, in my car, driving to West Lafayette to spend time with our family.  Steve said something (I don’t even remember what it was) to which I replied, “Oh, Steve.  You dummy.”  Of course, I didn’t mean any harm.  I said it in the same joking way I would have said it to either of my other brothers or my sister.  But, Steve heard it otherwise.  I looked over to see his head in his hands. He was sobbing.  For the first time, I became aware of just how much Steve understood about his condition.  He was smart enough to know he wasn’t smart.  He knew that being “special” didn't feel very special.  He understood that he was… different.  

As that realization grew in him earlier in his life, so did a root of bitterness that the enemy seized upon.  In his 30’s, Steve began to behave like a rebellious teen.  He became sulky and defiant against his parents, with whom he lived.  He stopped doing the chores he had for so long done willingly.  He refused to go to church.  He began to speak ill of Jesus.  He even burned his Bible.  Mom and Dad were gravely concerned.  They earnestly sought God’s intervention.  They prayed over Steve.  They prayed that the demons that tormented him would depart - never to return.  Steve’s reaction was often that of rage.  My parents felt unsafe.

Then it happened.  One morning Steve woke up transformed.  His countenance was full of joy.  All he could say was, “I saw Jesus!”  “I saw Jesus!”  “I saw Jesus!” The Lord had revealed Himself to my brother in a dream that night.  The bitterness and anger had been replaced with peace and hope.  That is when he started saying, “Could be today!” to practically everyone he met.  "It could be today" that he would again see Jesus.. He could not wait to see Jesus again! 

As for many of us, life was still hard for him, like it was at the moment I made the insensitive comment to him in the car.  Like us, he had to continually go to the Lord for strength and patience with his lot in life.

My brother finally saw Jesus again - for the first time in the flesh - about five years ago when he went to heaven at the age of 65.  I wish I could have been there when he finally did, to see the joy on his face.  That's why I am so looking forward to the Bema, that moment when Jesus tells us Steve's whole story - with all the parts about which we had only a hint.  I can't wait to hear from all the people Stevo encouraged during his life.  I can't wait to find out how many of them are in heaven because of Steve's faithful life.  

Thank you, Jesus, for my dear brother, Stevo.

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