The Good Brother
One day, I was walking by the beach with my favorite brother. He was holding a bamboo stick by the size of his long, slender arm.
"Brother, what does it take to go to heaven?"
I asked him as I looked up to him on my side. He stands twice my twelve year old girl height.
It was our early morning walk. Far across the sea is the sun shining and rising up on its half way to the clear blue sky. Indeed, a very beautiful day and precious moment, like many I have already spent with my good brother.
"Why do you want to go to heaven?"
He asked instead of responding to my question without looking at me. He was staring at the clear sand sparkling on our feet as we walked, as it was beautified by the golden color of the sun.
"You've always talked to me about the father. How good he is, kind, loving, rewarding and yet punishes. He wasn't there when I was born and I have never set my eyes on him. Yet you told me, he's always been around and he lives in heaven.
He stopped walking to face me. His white pijamas shone brightly with the sun at his back almost the top of his head.
I came out too with my pink pijamas. Our house is close to the seashore. It has been our habit to spend our early mornings, walking by the beach and him talking to me about our father. You see, there has always been him and I.
My brother is about thirty years old, yet never been engaged nor married. He spent his whole life loving and taking care of me.
I returned his smile so sweet that it always calmed me down everytime I am a bit disturbed and lost. For I am sure, he is paying attention.
First he helped me to sit down, then he himself sat beside me on the sand. We were then facing the calm blue sea in front of us with its little waves sounding like a soothing music to my ears.
Slowly, my brother placed his stick ahead of us on the sand and we were seated with both arms wrapped around our knees.
"Our father is like the wind. You don't know where it comes from or where it is going."
He started to say.
"Yes. You've told me he is a spirit."
I added to him.
"He is. So, if you love him, you're loving a spirit. And if you want to go to heaven, you must be a good spirit, for everything that goes to heaven is good. For the Father is good. No more, no less."
I felt my eyebrows crossed before asking him another question.
"So how do I become a spirit? Especially a good spirit."
I turned to him with big questioning eyes, aching to receive a quick answer to my rising anxiety.
The handsome face of my brother with a smile paired by his loving eyes calmed me down as he reached his arm, placing it on my shoulder to pull me closer to him.
A relieving breath left me and relaxed myself in his arms that wrapped me, while the wind blew lightly on my long hair, just as it touched my brother's shoulder length hair.
"When a human body dies, the breath left by the Father into the body to give it life, leaves the dead body for it will be turned into ashes. But that breath he gave is the spirit that comes out from the dead body."
He was explaining and as I reminished each word, I was reaching some understanding. So my head was nodding. But then, another thing intrigues my mind.
"And all spirits go to heaven."
I spurted out the words of assumptions.
A sad look replaced the smiling eyes of my brother. His smile left. Instead, he looked at the stick first then responded with a low word.
"No."
I heard his response, for he hugged me closer as he looked back at me.
"Why?"
I enquired with a heart breaking question, almost afraid what could be his answer.
"Because not all spirits given by the father to give life to humans are as clean and pure as they were given when they were born."
Saying those words, my brother took a deep breath afterward.
I was speechless. So he continued.
"You see, my dear, what comes down from heaven goes back to heaven. The father will claim back his own spirits. It was given clean, it must return clean. Otherwise, anything dirty is rubbish."
He looked back at me to see my expression, I thought.
"And whatever is garbage and rubbish must be thrown away to the fire to be burned."
The eyes of my brother did not flip flap in his look at me. Expecting more from me, I believed.
"Yeah. Just like the fallen leaves in our backyard that you'll have to sweep away later on."
I said laughingly at him. He laughed with me too.
"You are right. I was sent to clean."
Then we decided to get back on our feet and walk back to the house because he has to clean.
I looked at his stick.
"What is that stick for you're holding?"
I asked him for the last time.
He stared at his stick with a serious, deep look in his face.
"This is what I will use to measure and tap the dry leaves from the branches of the trees that seemed to be so stubborn to let go from damaging the other leaves with their insects and bugs."
He responded with a wink as he turned to me.
"Good, Brother!"
I heartily laughed with him as we begun to set our race back to the house.
Check for more:
