So Cold

This fall and winter it’s been unusually cold and wet here in southern California.  Tonight the weather forecasters predict that it will be 39 degrees…now that is just plain burr chilly burr especially for this southern California weather wimp!

As soon as I arrived home I turned on the heater and went to bring the bird feeders in for the night.  As I entered our home the heat had just come on and I thanked God for our home, heat, running water and so much more.  Then I started thinking what it must be like for those who are homeless.  What do they do when it rains for 7 days straight like it did last week?  What do they do on a cold night like this; where do they go?

Then my thoughts turned to my brother Patrick Henry Bunts who has been missing for a number of years now.  He’s a troubled individual and has made some bad choices in his life and I don’t know what’s happened to him. Patrick’s actions and behavior lead me to believe that he may have substance abuse problems. 

The last time I spoke with him it was probably about five of six years ago at Christmas.  He called the assisted living place where my mother lived to wish her a Merry Christmas.  Our conversation was brief…I wasn’t too keen about speaking to him because of his dishonesty towards a family member. 

If I had known that was the last time I would speak to him what would I have said?

Our mother died a few years after that last conversation.  When she died, I tried to contact my brother to no avail.  He probably doesn’t even know she’s dead.  Each year since then I’ve paid to do a background check to see if there is any information on his whereabouts.  Thus far…the searches have come empty.  They have lots of old data…but for the last four or five years there has been no information on where he lives or works. 

I don’t know if he’s in prison or too drugged up to know night from day.  Is he working and living under someone else’s name and identification?  Is he still alive?   I don’t know…but thoughts of him are never far from my mind. 

If I made contact with him…I’m not sure what I would say.  Part of me would want to hug him, tell him I love him and share the gospel message because he desperately needs it.  There’s another part of me that would like to swat him right upside the head and yell, “What in the world were you thinking!”

When I encounter homeless people in the parking lot asking for money, I think of my brother.  I wonder…is he doing that somewhere?  If he is…what kind of people does he encounter?  What are their responses to him?  How would I respond if I didn’t know it was him?  Would I buy him a meal?  Would I talk with him or turn away?

When it’s a cold night like tonight…I think of Patrick and wonder where he is?  Perhaps one day I’ll find out.  Until then…I’ll wonder and continue to pray that God, who is not willing that any should perish, will bring someone along to share the Gospel message with my brother who is desperately lost.  Lord willing he’s still alive and there’s still a chance.

Missing

I tell people that you are missing
The truth of the matter is
I have no idea what’s become of you

Until “that day”
I had always thought highly of you
Believed that you were upstanding and hardworking

Then the truth of your character
Was revealed
The depths of your depravity became clear

After that
I didn’t want to have much to do with you
The occasionally obligatory phone call sufficed

Because of our mom
We had to have some contact
But then you faded away

Has it been five or six years now
I forget
Time and events all seem to run together

Honestly I found myself angry
Resentful
That you had nothing to do with our mother

No cards
No phone calls
No checking in to see how she was doing

Was it guilt that drove you away
Or because the well had dried up
It was no longer profitable for you

Well, your mom has been dead
For almost a year now
I have no way to let you know

Or are you still out there
Anonymously
But somehow still in the know

It’s hard to imagine
That the one who resorted to dishonesty
Would not seek his fair share of what remained

That’s why I fear
Wonder daily
What’s happened to you

Did you cross the wrong person this time
Reap the consequences
Of the depths to which you’ve sunk

Is your body lying in a shallow grave
Hidden…never be discovered
Will your fate ever be known

Are your remains in a morgue
The name John Doe
Tied to your toe

Are you imprisoned
Has the law finally caught up with you
Are you paying society its due

Or are you far away
In some distant land
Hoping to avoid the penalty for your wrong doing

There is not a day
That I don’t think about you
Worry and wonder what’s become of you

I don’t know where to begin
Or what to do
To find you

The search I paid for
Came up fruitless
All traces of you disappeared a few years ago

Only God knows what’s become of you
Dear brother, I pray that the Reveler of mysteries
Will reveal what’s happened to you

Susan Bunts Wachtel
February 11, 2009