Return of a Son of the Church

It was a surprise to see him coming across the sanctuary to give me a big bear-hug. Tall, dark and handsome, Charles looked wonderful. Now a senior in college in a neighboring state, he hasn't visited home much since going away to school and has frustrated many of us with his inconsistent contact with the folks back home.

Not that we don't understand why. We do.

Whenever I see him I think of his late father, my friend Jonah. Jonah and his wife immigrated from Nigeria. She was a nurse and he was a medical researcher. They both worked in Houston's Medical Center. Charles was the middle of three sons.

When Charles was in middle school Jonah was dying of brain cancer. In the last two months of his life his wife Rose was killed by a drunk driver as she drove home from her night shift at the hospital. Then El Jefe and I became involved in helping Jonah make legal arrangements for the guardianship of the three boys who would soon be orphans.

After Jonah's death, Charles and his brothers went to live with Dr. O, a member of our congregation and friend of Jonah's. Because all of the boys were American citizens and had never lived in Nigeria, Jonah wanted them to stay rather than travel to his native country to be brought up by relatives they barely knew. The almost simultaneous deaths of Jonah and Rose created a legal snarl that rivaled the most complicated law school exam questions I had ever seen. But El Jefe got his firm to work and everything was arranged. Jonah and his wife had been very prudent with their finances and left more than enough money to support and educate the boys.

Now Dr. O was a single father at the time to four children of his own. His ex-wife suffered from mental health problems and left the area to live with her sister. With seven children to parent, Dr. O moved into a larger home and many church members rallied around to help. The boys made the adjustment--but it was hard for everyone.

Several years passed and Charles was a senior in high school and one of the stars of his basketball team. A group of us attended as many of his games as we could to help support him. When we greeted him after the game, calling him "Charles" his friends would look quizzical. "That's my church name", he explained to them. Like many Nigerians, Charles also had an Igbo name and that was the name by which he was known at school.

That spring Charles' older brother, a freshman in college, was killed by a drunk driver one Saturday night. Just about 3 months later his youngest brother dropped dead while on a mission trip in Fort Worth with our senior high youth group. An autopsy revealed that he had a congenital defect in the vessels going to his heart that could not have been repaired. The doctors said that it was probably the result of his mother's having contracted measles in the first trimester of her pregnancy with him.

So Charles buried both his brothers before going away to school. I accompanied him to probate court with an attorney from El Jefe's firm that summer as the judge signed the order consolidating his brother's trusts into one trust for his benefit. El Jefe and another church member who is an investment advisor sat down with him to explain his financial situation and to caution him to be discreet about it--at his age it would be easy for him to be taken advantage of. Charles followed their advice. He was very uncomfortable with this money because it represented the loss of his entire family.

Then he left for college, as planned. He had hoped to play basketball for his school, but that didn't happen. He didn't return phone calls from Dr. O and his foster brothers and sisters or the other church members who tried to keep up with him. When there were breaks from school he found ways to avoid coming home, or else stayed very briefly. He confided to a few friends that it was just too painful to return to the house where his brothers used to live with him. In his new enviornment, his story wasn't known to anyone he didn't choose to tell. He had the freedom to be himself without the burden of his tragic personal history.

"How long are you staying, Charles? " I asked him yesterday. " He said he would be here until the 28th, when he planned to go skiing with some friends. "I'll see you in church Christmas Eve," he assured me.

Jonah and Rose would be so proud of the young man he has become. He'll be graduating from college this year and plans a career in business. He's had more adversity in his life than most of us will ever have and he has suffered much for it. The fact that he chose to come home for Christmas, stay awhile, and re-connect with his foster family and church family shows that he is doing pretty well. God bless you, Charles. And Merry Christmas.