Danya

I strayed back into my room this morning, after a comfortable half-hour spent outside in my warmest shawl, discussing God with the wing and watching the parade of students leaving their dorms on account of a fire drill. The night before last we had a fire alarm at 3:15 in the morning, and stayed outside until 3:50 AM, and these things tend to leave one with the feeling that a second alarm in two days is a bit thick. Thus, our dear RA took us outside beforehand and spared us the pain of being rudely ousted from our dwelling twice in 48 hours.

But I digress. On returning to the room, I found the following IM message from my little brother, Danya, who is a 19-year-old sophomore and graphics arts major at UMBC in Maryland. It read as follows:

"Hi! You're wonderful you're beautiful I miss you I love you!"

I laughed the delighted laugh of sisters who know that they are dear to their brothers. "That's Danya," I said to Helen. "In his freshman year at UMBC, he IMed me almost every morning to tell me that he loves me."

"Wow." She replied, suitably impressed. Helen knows that I was up until all hours (2 AM) a few nights ago, reading Davy's Xanga site (see sidebar if you want to be profoundly amused) and making exclamations of pleasure.

His name is David Severn, which is just plain cool. I call him Deej (DJ) because of his fascination with music, or Danya (because he loves all things Russian), or Davy (his nickname as a small child). I seldom, if ever, call him by his real name. Much of the time a sort of caressing "hey there, you. It's you!" is an appropriate mode of address.

"You're my magical sister." He tells me. "You have to stay home and bake cookies with me!"

The "stay home and bake cookies" is a code-phrase for our family. It means "Don't go away. I'll miss you too much!" It's right up there with "you can stay for another week," which means, "hey, you rock! I'm impressed!" and "you are my little bunny," roughly translated as "you are mine and nobody else's and I love you."

It was Davy who made my Ecce graphic for me. It was Davy who trudged back and forth across the fields to private school with me in every conceivable weather in high school. It was Davy who, during my first lonely year at PHC, worked at the receptionist desk (he graduated with me, but 16 is a little young for anybody to go to college) and always made me feel that seeing my face was the highlight of his work day. It is Davy who still grabs my hand whenever we are both at home, and says, "Oh, Chris! I have to show you....!" The "show you" is always something exciting, whether a story he's written, a fresh insight into Scripture, a new piece of music, or a new graphic.

We've both grown up. Davy is now at least 4 inches taller than I, but I still tower beneath him, or at least pretend to. He is the leader of our church's ministry outreach to UMBC, a fearsome responsibility for a 19-year-old, and one which they could easily have given to someone else. They didn't, though, because he is mature and humble enough even for that task. He can't live without his Quiet Times, and I've never in my whole life met anybody so loving, so witty, so funny, so wonderful. I may be magical in his eyes, but oh, my Lord, who am I that I should be blessed with such a brother?

Danya, Deej, Davy, dearest Blue-Eyed-Boy, you can stay for another week. I can't wait to come home and bake cookies with you, for you are my little bunny!