This post is really long, READ IT ANYWAY!!!

I remember everything about my best friend, even though I haven't had any contact with him for 20 years. His life changed mine; God used him to shape me in ways I didn't understand for a long time...probably still don't really understand completely now (despite my tremendous depth of brilliance and intellect - ha!). The end of my 5th grade year a "new kid on the block" (you got the right stuff) had moved into our neighborhood. I didn't know him very well, but for some reason all of the other kids hated him. I would guess that it was because he was extremely poor and everything that goes along with that, but that couldn't have been it because that was the norm for kids in our neighborhood (they were probably just big fat jerks). I only know of one family that still had mom and dad together (not mine); and actually only one that did not have a parent on drugs or booze, which we witnessed alot back then (my dad was the one who wasn't). I don't think the reason matters, they hated him because they wanted to. Because everyone hated him I tried to hate him too, but the kid kept coming around...sitting next to me on the bus, coming by my house every day, standing by me at the bus stop. Was he trying to make everyone hate me too? That wasn't very friendly of him! The summer came and for my 11th birthday my dad said I could invite 12 friends to a party at a new place called "Pelican Pete's"...go karts, video arcade, mini golf, batting cages, pizza, cake, the whole nine yards. This would be a big deal to the people I had as friends, and to me. I don't think I had done it on purpose but I invited 13. The day of the party I realized my error and knew what I needed to do - I had to disinvite Brandon, "the new kid on the block" (hanging tough). Everyone started to arrive to load up in my dad's tiny pickup. Boys will lap up if it means the chance to slam their friend's go kart into the wall with their go kart and spin them around. When Brandon showed up I told him the bad news - I had overinvited and he couldn't come. There just wasn't enough room, my dad couldn't pay for the extra person, I gave him a few really good reasons. I expected anger - which would have been a just reaction. He was heartbroken; he didn't say anything and just walked down the street toward his house. I went into my house and lost it - crying uncontrollably out of guilt for what I had done. My dad did what my dad has always seemed to do...the right thing. We loaded up the pickup truck and started to drive. He pulled up to Brandon's driveway and walked with me up to the door so I could apologize for what had happened, and invited him to go along. If it had not been for my dad that day I never would have done the right thing; I would have gone along with everyone else for who knows how long hating someone just because. But my dad helped me past that, bringing me to a point where I could be friends with this kid because someone I looked up to thought it was good - after this no one else's opinion mattered. We had a great time that day - I think (I might have been biased since I was the one getting all the presents and stuff). For the next year Brandon and I were inseparable. The "new kid on the block" (please don't go girl) came over to my house almost everyday, with his two little brothers in tow. I was 11, Brandon 10, and little brothers 6 and 4. The circumstances in their families past somehow led this 10 year old to be responsible for the upbringing of his two little brothers...and he never cared. The way he treated them, I could tell he loved them. I don't remember ever meeting their mom; she worked at a few different restaurants at once as a waitress, just to pay the rent and keep them eating. Some of the best times I had though were spent at their house, where they had nothing. No nintendo, no VCR, no trampoline or basketball hoop. Just each other. I remember my dad would give me money to go to a store about 2 miles away on my bike so I could get a soda and candy or ice cream or whatever. Brandon and brothers would go along, with money from mom for Milk and Bread. They had no bike and the brothers were too small to ride mine. Brandon and I would take turns towing the little brothers on the handle bars. I was learning that my life was meaningful; that what I did mattered to someone else. Brandon always told me I was his best friend, that he told his mom at night when she would come home about me and all the great fun stuff we did. What's weird is that I remember spending the night at his house several times and mom never coming home - maybe he had these imaginary conversations with her, and told me what he wanted to tell her but never had the chance to because she was too busy to listen to him. The next summer, between 6th and 7th grade, my dad decided he wanted to ruin my life. We moved about a half hour away, which to a kid that age might as well be across the world. I had to go to a different school than all my friends and I couldn't ride my bike to all of their houses. And I couldn't hang out with Brandon everyday. They had no phone. For the first 2 months on weekends my dad would drive me to Brandon's house; I would stay with him at his house for the weekend because he couldn't leave his brothers alone to go to my house. As July 14th approached my dad had told me that he was going to take me to Adventure Island Water Park in Tampa for my birthday - the most exciting place I had ever been that I was old enough to enjoy...and I could invite one friend. It was a no brainer for me, I invited Brandon. He begged his mom and managed somehow to cover his shifts with the brothers, Beau and Jacob, so he could go. We went Saturday and had a great time; he spent the night at my house that night and returned home Sunday. Brandon said it was the most fun he had ever had, and thanked me probably a thousand times that weekend. The next weekend my dad took his usual trip far out of his way to take me to Brandon's house. When we pulled up and I knocked, no one answered. I looked in the windows and noticed that the small amount of furniture they had was gone. My dad was really good about it, again...we went door to door for about 15 houses or so, knocking on doors (some of them people we didn't even know) and asking if anyone knew where Brandon's family had gone and how to get in touch with them. We got about 15 different stories. I imagine now (again, in my inexhaustible wisdom) that Brandon's mom was running from something (or someone) and didn't want to be found; probably 0 of the 15 stories were true - I think we could have gone to a hundred houses and never known where they really had gone. After about the 3rd house that we went to, my dad had caught on (my best friend's family was gone and we weren't going to find out where they had gone to); still he drove me around helping me try to find out where they went. Fast forward to today - sometimes people wonder why I have a heart for kids living in less than ideal situations. That friendship has single handedly formed that part of my personality. I still remember the look on Brandon's face when I invited him to Adventure Island; when we pulled up and saw the place; when we went down the slides and yelled "let's do that one again"; when we both went home extremely sun burnt (L.Dexter!!!). I, with a lot of help from my dad, had impacted someone's life for good. I'm not sure if Brandon ever got to do stuff like that again, but I do know that we had brought good into his life then. My dad did things for him that he couldn't repay, and did it gladly. I hung out with him even though he didn't have anything to offer other than his companionship, his time, things that really do matter. In return, he loved me (closer than a brother). I could tell by the way he talked to me; the way he acted toward me. After the birthday party incident we never fought; never disagreed on anything; always had each other's backs, even at the expense of many friendships for myself (which I gladly sacrificed). WHAT DID I LEARN FROM MY FRIENDSHIP WITH BRANDON? Love begets love. It might take time for it to show, but hang in there. Real love, unbridled, unconditional, unmerited, begets love. God loves us in this way...He gave His only Son to die for people He knew would reject Him - some people who would even hate Him. But for the chance that maybe they would believe, for the opportunity to bridge the gap that sin had created between God and people, for the chance to engage in relationship with us...He did the unthinkable. I wonder who, if anyone, has ever given up their most precious relationship for the well being of others with no promise of reward. Who is that person? What did their emotional pain look like and sound like? What impact did that act have on the person it was done for? Brandon's friendship has taught me that God's love for me has only one proper, logical reaction...to love Him back. He (God) has loved me for no reason at all - i'm not worth it. In a spiritual sense (tied in to the Brandon/Danny Quail friendship sense), I have no Nintendo to offer God to play with; no cool trampoline to jump on; no money to share. And yet He shares His bike with me because I have none; He takes me to Adventure Island and Pelican Pete-like places that I would never be able to go to. He keeps loving me, and keeps loving me, and keeps loving me. He pursues me; He comes a great distance on a regular basis to engage in a relationship with me. All I can do is love Him back. I know this might sound confusing, but I really am learning how to tie in my real life lessons into a spiritual lesson about my relationship with God. I wonder alot about what may have become of Brandon...I know my hope is that as time went on life got easier for him and his family. That he was able to experience joy, alot. That he knows how much God loves him, and has a great relationship with Him. Love begets love; unbridled, passionate, limitless, unmerited, for no good reason at all. Experience it; He's offering it. Accept it; He wants you to have it. And as for Brandon - I hope someday to be able to rekindle our friendship, one that has impacted me tremendously, in a perfect "Adventure Island" prepared for us by God that is without a doubt unfathomably better than the one we went to in July 1988. I might perhaps be the worst lover of God in the history of mankind; I'm sorry. I know I am continually doing a poor job of loving other people too; again, I apologize. Pray for me, as my single greatest desire is to be a passionate, commited lover of God; and the second is like it, to be able to love people in a beautiful, demonstrative way. Until next time, God bless.