. . . I became even more sure of this thought when I heard who Grandpa met.
I apologize for leaving such a nasty little teaser. Raised by commercial paperbacks and cable television, I sometimes take suspense to super-saturated, melodramatic levels. Here's the rest of yesterday's story:
Grandpa has always been an exceptional scholar. A decorated veteran of the insurance industry, he woke up one morning several years ago and, on a whim, decided to start studying biblical Hebrew. His interest in Hebrew soon became a hobby, hobby became preoccupation, preoccupation became passion, and now he's an honorary rabbi.
A lifelong student of anything scriptural, he has been enthralled by Education Week. However, he's not exactly training for Beijing 2008, and over the past day or so, distance, as much as interest, has determined the classes he attends.
Yesterday, he found the cross-campus journey from the Mariott Center to the Martin Building a little too distant. He decided to duck inside the Wilkinson Center, a concrete oasis from the hot Provo sun. While there, he wandered past the Cougereat to the ballroom, where he found a chair, seated himself, and soaked up the air conditioning.
Then he saw someone. Two rows in front of him, there was a man who seemed familiar. Somewhere, he had met that man before. His brother.
Because of a business tangle years ago, he and his brother had experienced a falling out. They had not spoken since. He rose from his chair and draped a hand on his brother's shoulder. He said: "We've got to talk."
I wish I could write a happy, Disney-perfect ending for this story. But Grandpa's brother has been diagnosed with cancer, and he struggles still to forgive the past. His exit had been standoffish. Afterwards, Grandpa was solemn, disappointed that loose ends had remained loose, yet grateful that the Lord had mercifully granted him a surprise — even a miracle — that had cracked years of frustrating fraternal silence.
The next morning, as he was telling me about this miracle, he had a noticeable sparkle in his eye. In the past, I had seen that sparkle when he wanted someone to pull his finger, but this time was different.
"I looked in one of local phone books, Michael," he said. "And now I have his phone number."
At events like Education Week, sometimes the Lord wants us to seek knowledge. Sometimes He wants us to meet people. And sometimes, he wants brothers to reunite.
(Michael Madson is a returned missionary from the China Hong Kong Mission. He is currently a freelance writer and a student of English and French at Weber State University. His epic fantasy novel, "Lady in White," will be released in October by Mother's House Publishing.)