Brother Nathaniel: Friend or Foe?

My brother and I sat in the open trunk of our family’s minivan, snacking on mini muffins in the middle of a deserted parking lot.  My dad had decided to leave our house that morning at 5:00 am in order to finish the 3 hour drive to Breckenridge, Colorado in time for the annual Fourth of July Parade.  We arrived in Breckenridge at 8:00 am; unfortunately, the parade did not begin until 11:00am.  This meant that my family now had 3 hours to kill in an empty grocery store parking lot.  My little brothers both slept in the backseat as my mom was dozed in the reclined front passenger seat.  My dad was sat in the driver’s seat, prematurely applying massive pools of sunblock to his arms and legs.  

Our view from the trunk was a vacant lot, surrounded by towering snow-capped peaks and a clear blue sky.  Everything about our surroundings was quiet, peaceful, and ordinary.  My brother and I bantered back and forth about the upcoming parade and discussed our plan to watch the fireworks that night from a nearby lake.  Unfortunately, our picturesque scene did not last long.  As is normal with my family, something appeared suddenly and abruptly, ending our peace and normality and catapulting us into the realm of the abnormal.

At first, I was too preoccupied with picking the wilted blueberries out of my prepackaged muffins to notice the approaching figure, a figure eerily out of place in this quaint mountain-town scene.  My brother slugged me in the shoulder to get my attention.  As I watched my muffin hit the pavement, I drew my hand back to retaliate; however, as soon as I caught sight of the approaching figure I immediately froze.  A stark contrast to the crystal blue sky and glistening white snow, a black robed figure walked across the parking lot directly toward our vehicle.  Immobile, my brother and I focused our eyes upon the approaching man, dressed in a straight black robe and tall black and white cylindrical hat.  Something about his gait, steady and purposeful, frightened me and my brother long before we saw the strange details of this man’s appearance.  Swiftly, my brother became alert and instructed me to get back into the car.  Usually, I would have argued with him and asserted my rights as an independent female, but in this situation, I was more than willing to follow my brother’s direction.  My brother called out to my dad, who hurriedly rushed back to the rear of our car and stood between the approaching stranger and my brother.  Looking out the back window, I could finally make out the details of this stranger.  He wore large, black rimmed glasses that accentuated his beady dark eyes.  A scraggly mane of black hair, strewn with strands of grisly grey flowed out from under his hat and cumulated in a long, matted beard.  He was wearing a pair of mismatched gloves; his white gloved hand held a crucifix and his black gloved hand held a weathered book. 

I sank deep into my seat, knowing that this was it; this was the moment my entire family was going to die.  I had unknowingly been sneaking into the living room while my mom watch shows like Law and Order and Criminal Minds late at night; by the looks of this man, my family would be the inspiration for the next episode.  But as I clenched my eyes shut and prepared for the impending doom, nothing happened.  After hours had passed, in actuality only 5 minutes, I opened my eyes and looked back through the window.  My dad was shaking the man’s hand and then the man smiled, turned, and walked away.  I ran outside the car to hug my dad, happy that we were all alive.  My mom and brothers woke up as I clambered out of the car, inquiring what exactly my problem was.  My dad told my family that he had just met “Brother Nathaniel”, a Christian man who attended the parade each year to share the gospel with the parade observers.  My brother and I cast wary looks at one another; we went to church every Sunday, and we had never seen anyone who looked remotely like this strange man.  Shrugging, we concluded that my dad had decided to show pity and compassion to this man and thought nothing more about the incident, until the parade.

Since we had arrived early, my family secured a prime spot for observing the parade.  We were seated on a set of stone stairs enclosed by black iron grates, raised above the observers on the surrounding sidewalks.  We watched the floats go by, eagerly stuffing our paper sacks with the many treasures and prizes the parade participants threw to the crowd.  I remember thinking that this was the perfect way to spend the Fourth of July when “Brother Nathaniel” decided to make another appearance. 

The crowds of people were packed onto the sidewalks like sardines; however, something was making these people part and create a path.  Anticipating a police officer or parade official, I looked down to investigate when I caught a glimpse of a pair of black and white gloved hands.  I tugged on my brother’s sleeve and pointed to the parting crowd.  My brother turned to my dad and motioned to the same area.  Expecting my dad to share our own worries and fears, my brother and I were shocked to see him smile at the eccentric man.  Followed by condemnations and scowls, Brother Nathaniel worked his way through the crowd shouting words of salvation and faith, approaching young children who were quickly snatched away by wary parents. When he saw our family, he stopped and beamed up at us while my dad walked down the stairs to greet him.  I stood in shock; my jaw almost hit the pavement.  My dad and Brother Nathaniel were conversing like lifelong friends, unaware or unconcerned about the disapproving glares cast in their direction. 

Our small staircase had become more interesting than the parade, drawing a crowd of observers curious about the exchange taking place between a 40 year old father and an alarming, creepy foreigner.  Just as I turned to walk away, my dad called out my name.  Reluctantly, I turned around to find myself face-to-face with Brother Nathaniel.  My dad heartily asked me to take a picture of the two of them.  Shaking I focused the camera on the strange looking man wrapping his arm around my dad’s shoulders and snapped the picture. Nearly throwing the camera back to my father, I turned to hurry away, but my dad had one more request.  He asked me to take a picture of just Brother Nathaniel.  My dad stood off to the side and I was alone facing this stranger.  After contemplating how fast Brother Nathaniel could pull out a knife to kill me, I decided to take my chances and take the picture.  Without thinking, I instructed him to smile and then snapped the picture.  Shaking hands with my father once more, Brother Nathaniel retreated into the crowds, saying farewell to my family and continued his mission work.

In the days following this incident, Brother Nathaniel began to fade from my mind, becoming nothing more than a character from a dream or nightmare.  But one day, as I booted up our family computer, I found myself face-to-face with Brother Nathaniel once again.  My dad had used the picture I had snapped on the Fourth of July as the background image of our computer’s desktop.  Every time I turned on the computer, Brother Nathaniel greeted me with his scraggly beard and gloved hands.  At first, the sight of Brother Nathaniel made my breath catch, but soon, I found myself contented and glad to see him.  The creepy glasses that rimmed his eyes began to fade as I noticed the laugh lines at the corners of his energetic eyes.  His beard, which previously consumed his face in my perspective, began to recede in prominence as I noticed his laughing, jovial smile. 

I am not sure why my dad decided to befriend this stranger, why he endured the scowls and judgments from the parade crowds, why he set the picture as our computer background; however, I believe that he has taught my brother and me an important lesson about judging others according to appearance or popular opinion.  After this incident, I began to find value in eccentricities, resisting the urge to flee every time I encounter a person who is different or unconventional.  Brother Nathaniel was certainly bizarre, but I realize now that this did not make him any less of a person.  Reflecting upon this incident, I could not be more proud of my dad;  a man willing to go against the grain and provide friendship and encouragement to a fellow human being despite the pressure from society to condemn his eccentricities.