Just a speck of me is Irish, given to me by my great-great grandmother, a firey red head born in Ireland. I love Irish potatoes and emerald shamrocks and could roll down any hill covered with clover and feel completely liberated.
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My late brother Steve was born this month and often proclaimed his Irish connection. When Steve was born I was confident that I would finally be the boss of something. My two older brothers had their share of trying to mold me to their will, unsuccessfully for the most part, but when Steve was born I saw promise in my leadership. It didn't work out that neatly, however, as Steve was even more independent. From a little tyke he would run like the wind to escape Mom and home. He didn't actually want to escape, he just loved to run. While in college, Steve completed the 26 miles course in the famous Boston Marathon. I would've died in any long-distance run, but not Steve.
.
Growing up in Inglewood, I lived a stone's throw away from Hollywood. So naturally, I had a dream of becoming a star. But brother Steve would howl and moan whenever I shared one of my new songs with my guitar. I am not certain to this day whether Steve actually was irritated with my voice or just teasing but he did a good job of keeping me humble.
.
The last time I saw my little brother was when Don and I flew to Nebraska to sing for Steve and Sharilyn's wedding. When we entered the old college chapel, Steve greeted me with a big hug. We hadn't hugged much growing up so it felt good. One week later, however, my little brother and his bride were killed in a head on collision with a dump truck. They were returning from their honeymoon and were just turning onto the Interstate highway when another young man also named Steve, still feeling the affects of an all night drinking party, raced up the road to work. Later that day at a vesper's program in Hinsdale, Don and I received the tragic news.
.
Of course we were devastated and as time went on I began working through the pain by writing songs like "Simply Trusting" and "The Shout of Faith." Out of the blue, ten years later almost to the day of their wedding, I was blessed with a vivid dream. Steve stopped by and greeted me again with a big hug. It was so real I woke up with a start and silently puzzled what made me physically feel his hug. Then it came back to me, a decade earlier on Steve & Sharilyn's wedding day, Steve encircled me with his big grown-up arms. No doubt, the trauma following such a wonderful event had sealed that loving gesture in my memory.
.
Steve didn't know it but when he gave me that hug, he gave the best gift a sister could receive, love wrapped in a brother's strong arms. I am reminded in the merry month of March each year, that the gifts I give others last the longest when they are laced with love. One day my little brother is going to get his gift back, I promise!
- Nancy (the Notetaker) Troyer, The Hug
..
PICTURE ABOVE is a wedding picture of Steve and Sharilyn ... didn't they look so happy!
.
My late brother Steve was born this month and often proclaimed his Irish connection. When Steve was born I was confident that I would finally be the boss of something. My two older brothers had their share of trying to mold me to their will, unsuccessfully for the most part, but when Steve was born I saw promise in my leadership. It didn't work out that neatly, however, as Steve was even more independent. From a little tyke he would run like the wind to escape Mom and home. He didn't actually want to escape, he just loved to run. While in college, Steve completed the 26 miles course in the famous Boston Marathon. I would've died in any long-distance run, but not Steve.
.
Growing up in Inglewood, I lived a stone's throw away from Hollywood. So naturally, I had a dream of becoming a star. But brother Steve would howl and moan whenever I shared one of my new songs with my guitar. I am not certain to this day whether Steve actually was irritated with my voice or just teasing but he did a good job of keeping me humble.
.
The last time I saw my little brother was when Don and I flew to Nebraska to sing for Steve and Sharilyn's wedding. When we entered the old college chapel, Steve greeted me with a big hug. We hadn't hugged much growing up so it felt good. One week later, however, my little brother and his bride were killed in a head on collision with a dump truck. They were returning from their honeymoon and were just turning onto the Interstate highway when another young man also named Steve, still feeling the affects of an all night drinking party, raced up the road to work. Later that day at a vesper's program in Hinsdale, Don and I received the tragic news.
.
Of course we were devastated and as time went on I began working through the pain by writing songs like "Simply Trusting" and "The Shout of Faith." Out of the blue, ten years later almost to the day of their wedding, I was blessed with a vivid dream. Steve stopped by and greeted me again with a big hug. It was so real I woke up with a start and silently puzzled what made me physically feel his hug. Then it came back to me, a decade earlier on Steve & Sharilyn's wedding day, Steve encircled me with his big grown-up arms. No doubt, the trauma following such a wonderful event had sealed that loving gesture in my memory.
.
Steve didn't know it but when he gave me that hug, he gave the best gift a sister could receive, love wrapped in a brother's strong arms. I am reminded in the merry month of March each year, that the gifts I give others last the longest when they are laced with love. One day my little brother is going to get his gift back, I promise!
- Nancy (the Notetaker) Troyer, The Hug
..
PICTURE ABOVE is a wedding picture of Steve and Sharilyn ... didn't they look so happy!
*ONCE YOU START CLIMBING -- DON'T LOOK DOWN: A story of Steve's life in a paperback written in English and translated into German, by Richard Utt and Ruben & Nancy Neuharth. Published by Pacific Press. There's one on Amazon.com
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