One of "Those" Calls

Tonight I received one of "those" calls. You know, the one you never ever want. The one saying, "Your brother got into a car accident."

My brother. My beautiful and incredible brother. My cautious and well mannered, kind hearted and gentle spirited little brother.

He's okay. Somehow, he left unscathed. Firefighters and EMT attribute it to wearing his seatbelt. I love seat belts, and even more now. My brother just texted me and said, "The fire department said I should be dead or at least broken bones that im a living miracle".

The truck was not so lucky. It was a rollover accident. According to my brother, both side mirrors gone, all windows broke, dashboard caved in, all of the doors are bashed in, and he had to climb through the windshield (which apparently was no easy task). This leads into 439084923490 problems for my family, but we're just so glad he's okay.

The kicker? My parents aren't there, they just flew in to see me for the weekend.

My brother's okay. I talked to him on the phone. We're texting now.
I love my brother.
He's the coolest kid I know. And I know a lot of cool kids.

Weirdly Honest

Even though I've been (somewhat) open here about my struggles, I haven't really been very open in "real life".

The other day, I told someone about my struggles in my faith. They responded with love and empathy and compassion and kindness. They also admitted that it was kind of weird for them, because I was one of the strongest Christians they knew. I really appreciated that honesty. I appreciated him saying that he sort of struggled with the idea that I was struggling. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around it. Believe me, it's been hard for me to wrap my mind around it too.

I don't remember exactly how he worded this question, but he then essentially asked me how my actions had been affected. I laughed because he wasn't the only person to ask me this. The people who I've engaged in real conversations about this have all asked me similar questions. I assured him my actions hadn't changed and I was "still making 'good' decisions". I think he was torn between believing me and..not so much.

One of the hardest parts about admitting my struggles is knowing that it's going to be just as weird to the people I talk to about it as it is for me. Every single person has this surprised look on their face and in their tone of voice. It's a look/tone that I appreciate, because I know that shows where and who I was.