While majoring in accounting at the University of Georgia, Brian made one B.  He seemed to handle the wide array of 'opportunities' at UGA much better than did I.  While our other two roommates and I spent our senior year praying to any god who would listen, appealing for job offers, Brian was considering offers from major accounting firms.

 He took a job with a non-profit for which he had to raise his own salary.  After marrying Julie in the early 80's (they are Gina's godparents), they settled into the Grant Park area of Atlanta.  Grant Park is now a 'returning' neighborhood.  It was not in the early 80's.  As a staff member of Georgia Avenue Church, Brian co-shepherds a congregation of what we call 'the working poor'.  Over a beer many years ago he joked, "I bet there is no one in Atlanta better than me in getting Georgia Power to keep people's lights on." 

 In the past two decades he has formed five local food co-ops.  He has secured grants to subsidize bulk food purchases and grants to purchase vehicles to handle food delivery.  Members pay a fee to belong, participate in food pick-up, sorting and delivery. I have joined him at his work.  To describe it as chaotic is a vast understatement.

 The 'defect' was there since birth.  So slight it had always been undetected.  It allowed a very small amount of blood to seep out of his heart.  It had never gone anywhere noticeable until recently when a clot lodged in his frontal lobe, the area where 'executive' decision making takes place; where we analyze, synthesize and make decisions.  That is all Brian does every working hour of his life.

 He now spends his days in various therapies, occupational, physical (having grown up in Indiana, his jump shot is as sweet as anything Michael Jordan ever knew).  They are hoping he can return to work a couple of hours a day beginning in early September.  We joked that the accompanying vocational therapist will need therapy after experiencing his job for a coupe of hours.

 At lunch with an Asheville friend this week, they said, "It is all about incarnation."  I think he is right.  Our faith is ultimately, solely about human flesh and experiencing the sacred in it.  As Brian and I talked last weekend, I asked how he was doing. He replied, "There are good days and not so good days. What has really made the difference is the friends who have come to see me."  He named both local and out of town friends.  It was clear in his eyes what that had meant, what kind of food that was for his and Julie's souls.

 I am grateful for all of you who have asked about Brian.  I am grateful Brian Cole mentined my being in Atlanta to see my friend- had not asked for that and appreciate his sensititivity to this visit.

 In the end we are all we and God have.  Human flesh.  The contact of one another.  Is it fair that a couple who have given heart and soul to human beings for decades, who could have chosen a different path, are now sitting in their home having to figure out who will be with Brian during the day?  No.  No sweet theology, no 'all things work out for those who love God', or ' there must be a purpose in this.'  What we do have is each other.  What we do have is friendships which in all seasons are still able to manifest the holy amid the absurd, the holy unspeakable amid that which we would described as damned, in moments not wished on anyone we can still see in one another's eyes that we belong.

 Peace,

Todd