ROSHAN

Sunday, November 27^th, 2011

In my room, at 8:45 PM

Do you remember Roshan? The 16 year old I went to Everest with? (I want to call him a kid, but I can't really do that, he's too smart and grown up; but I can't exactly call him an adult either). I had seen him earlier in the day and he seemed depressed about something. He had told me he'd talk to me about it later. Well, I just got done talking with him.

He saw his mother today...the first time he had seen her in 15 years. He was 1 ½ years old when he saw her last; when she walked out on the family. Apparently now she has become a Christian. Maybe she is wanting to try to make things right. Roshan – who wants to be called “David” now that he's recently been baptized – went to his pastor's house this morning. His pastor's wife is the sister of Roshan's mother. His mother was there. He said it was very strange to see this woman there, who kind of looked like him. Then he asked his pastor who she was and his pastor told him. She wanted to give him a hug, but of course Roshan was surprised and upset and angry at the whole scene. He had recoiled a bit, then traveled home after 10 minutes or so of being with his mother for the first time in a decade and a half. That is why he was down when I had seen him earlier.

I am shocked that all this is happening so quickly to him...with his Dad kicking him out of the house a year ago because of his Christian faith, and now his mom coming back in his life after he's practically grown up. Roshan had told me before that he's never known the love of a mother. He told me again tonight. He told me some of the thoughts running through his head.

“Why? You didn't give me love or protection when I needed it most. I was just a baby on the floor, and I needed love. Why do you want to come see me now – now that I'm grown up? No!”

Hearing his story breaks my heart. I tried to help him out a bit. I told him how none of this was his fault, and that he shouldn't feel obligated to know what to do next. I told him to take time to pray about it. I told him that God, in a way, was both his Father and his Mother, that He has allowed this to happen, and that He somehow has a plan. I saw his face look down and the cell phone he was holding slip out of his hand, and then he said in his thick accent, “I don't know.” “I feel really down.”

I prayed for him out loud. Then I shared with him a verse that has meant a lot to me recently. Psalm 34:1 – 7, especially verses 4 and 5. His face seemed to brighten just a bit, until he was able to radiate a smile, that smile I have come to know and love so well. I hugged him, and then I came up here to go to write this. I'm gonna miss this guy, my younger brother, when I leave.