During football season, my son played with a boy, we'll call him "Donny". He was a freshman, still wet behind the ears, and learning the ropes at the huge high school they attend.
Donny is African American and lives in Section 8 housing. He hasn't seen his dad since he was 4, which may be good- he spends a lot of time in and out of jail. The mom doesn't pay much attention to the kids. Donny is the oldest, and he has 3 little brothers and sisters in elementary school. The mom has had a string of boyfriends, but the most recent one actually seems to care. That in itself is amazing. But the boyfriend will take the kids to school, feed them, pick up the house- things the mom doesn't even do. It was actually the boyfriend that signed Donny up for football- because he knows what kind of trouble a boy that age can get into if he has time on his hands.
From the outside we watched as the coaches worked with Donny. They gave him encouraging words and praise when warrented. Our family pitched in when we saw a need. One day on the sidelines of a scrimmage my husband noticed that Donny kept taking off his cleats when he wasn't on the field. When my husband questioned, he found out that they were "last year's shoes" and about 2 sizes too small. My husband turned to me and said- "Baby, don't we have an extra pair of cleats just hanging around the house?" I knew that look and the tone of his voice. "Yep, I'm trying to remember what size... well, what size are you Donny?" He told us an 11, and my husband and I quickly agreed that we "were pretty sure that's what size these were". After the game I ran out and picked him up some new cleats. When my son asked how he was suppose to explain why they were brand new and in the box, I told him that lying isn't okay, but this was a different situation. We don't want to make him feel bad.... just tell him I bought them for your brother, but they didn't fit, and I couldn't return them without the receipt. Donny was happy to get new shoes, and never questioned our "story".
But even new shoes couldn't save Donny's football season. He was made to sit on the bench time after time due to failing grades. In reality, he was failing all but one class- PE. There are children that are not good test takers, and children who have difficulty in other areas. But in all honesty, we just always felt this child was "slow". In my mind, I always suspected that he may have been born with fetal alcohol syndrom- he shows a lot of the classic symptoms for it. But at any rate, he could not pull up his grades. Because we gave him a ride home every night, I asked him a little about it. He told me that with football and watching his brothers and sisters there was just no time to study. I'm pretty sure even if he did have the time, he wouldn't have a parent to take questions to. By the end of the season, Donny had quit the team. I felt bad.
Football could have been his way out...
But it wasn't.
My son still sees Donny from time to time at school. He's running around with guys looking to jump into gangs. When I ask my son about him, he just shakes his head and says, "Mom, he's really bad".
I myself ran into Donny the other day. He was at the store with his little brothers and sisters. And then it dawned on me.... He's not just some poor black kid living in the projects.
He's also a BROTHER.
It makes me think about our son. He's the oldest. That's a big responsibility for a kid. All of our kids look up to their oldest brother. Why wouldn't they? He's a great kid. He maintains a 4.0 gpa while playing on the football and wrestling team. When there dad deployed for almost 2 years, they counted on him to fill some pretty big shoes. Our youngest was born 3 months into that deployment. It took almost another 3 months of my husband being home for the little guy, now 2, to stop calling his brother "daddy". Because for him, he never met "daddy" until he came home. He just associated that term with a man. A big, strong, protective, played cars with you MAN. I think while the big kids are at school he must ask 100 times a day if we can go pick up his brother. He rushes him at the door when he gets home from practice and plants snot filled peanut butter kisses on him. Our oldest is a great big brother. He'll let the little ones play in his room while he tries to get his homework done. He makes time for them. He loves them. And because of that, they look up to him. They want to be just like him when they grow up. And more importantly, they TRUST him.
But that's okay. Because our son is a good student, a good citizen, a good person. He helps those with less and tries to be a good witness of God's grace and mercy.
What will Donny's brothers and sisters look up to? Another gangbanger? When they see Donny doing drugs, or fighting, will they still trust him and think that's what they should do that when they get bigger? Will he show them the right way to make a bed or how to learn multiplication tables? Or will his example show them they can fail at school, give up trying, and live off others?
I hope not. I hope Donny can save himself from that cycle. Because it's not just about him. Those kids don't have a Daddy, so they need a big brother.
I think somedays we all need a big brother.
