My Friend, Barack

Before we get into today’s post, I want to preface with this is not a political post. I ask and pray you read this with the lens of it being a story of two friends meeting. 

A lot of you have been asking about my brother, Zach, and if he would be appearing again sometime soon. Well, today is your day. 

When Zach was in his late elementary school year or early middle school years, one of his favorite things was going to parades. Being in the suburbs of Chicago, we have the treat of hosting some pretty cool floats, and guests. Over the years, as most of you have probably noticed, most parades include mainly politicians looking to connect with the public and gain votes. 

Zach, we have always joked, would either become a politician or a plumber, due to his knack of knowing no stranger, and his pants somehow always falling halfway down his butt within minutes of putting on his pants, regardless of how tightly we put on his belt. 

This particular parade was in the late Spring. I, being the “too cool” high school student, decided to skip the parade and sleep in, to my own detriment. My parents and Zach secured a spot in the downtown area of our town, making sure to get a curb so Zach could quickly snatch up the candy that was thrown out to parade goers back then. 

After the bands, dancers, singers, and general festivities, the politicians walked down the street. Aside from the candy, this was Zach’s favorite time. He wanted to shake all of the hands, regardless of political leanings. Any human connection Zach makes, gives him life. Patiently, he waited on the curb, his arm stretched out waiting for the large line of people who were seeking new acquaintance with the voters of our town to shake his hand. 

Now, if you know my family, have met or seen my little brother, it is clear that Zach is different from others. Born with part of his brain missing, Zach has conquered all odds of survival and is thriving now at 25 but not without serious varied abilities. 

On this day, Zach, so eager to meet any and all slowly became more and more down cast as every, single, politician passed by, not wanting to shake his hand. Some giving a nod of notice before pulling their hand back, not wanting to “catch” whatever Zach might have been “carrying” that made him look, and behave the way he did. My parents hearts broke, watching their son be completely ignored by “people of importance” because he was different. 

Still with his hand stretched out and hopeful, Zach waited…when a dark car pulled through the parade. The windows were a little tinted, and surrounded by men protecting it. It slowly passed, but then stopped, halting the rest of the parade with it. Out stepped a young, hansom, man in a suit and tie, his eyes set on my little brother. He calmly walked over to Zach with a wide smile on his face, waved on the security and car to continue with the parade, and sat down on the curb next to my brother. He shook his hand, and answered the numerous questions asked ranging from what he had for breakfast that day to how many kids he had. Zach learned about his two daughters, Malia and Sasha, and his wife, Michelle, and all of their various Halloween costumes throughout the years. 

This conversation lasted about 10 minutes, when the man said he had to meet up with his group at the end of the parade, so they could make it to the next one he was to appear in. 

Needless to say, Zach was giddy with happiness of meeting his new best friend, and would tell anyone all about his encounter.

A few years later, in January of 2009, with the television blaring, showing the Presidential Inauguration, Zach would run around the house screaming, “MOM! MOM-MY FRIEND BARACK IS PRESIDENT!” 

Noticed. Zach was noticed by someone we had no idea who he was at the time, but would come to lead our country for two terms as president. 

As you can imagine, Zach became Barack Obama’s biggest fan purely for the fact that Obama saw him and took the time to sit with him. Over time, this story of meeting the president (before he was president) was added to the collection of Zach stories we reminisce on during our phone calls, or over secret midnight snacks when I’m home to visit while our parents are asleep. 

Fast forward to 2016. The election had finished, and we knew things would be changing come January 2017. My mom read somewhere that President Obama answered some letters personally. She asked Zach if he wanted to write a letter to his old friend, thanking him for all he had done, and especially for answering all of his questions many years earlier. Together they drafted an email and sent it off. After a while the letter was forgotten and we went on with our daily lives. 

One day, my mom and I were sitting in the living room watching The Price is Right while sipping coffee. Dad was at work, and Zach was still fast asleep. We heard the mail being dropped off and mom got up to get it. I noticed when she came back in she hadn’t sat back down, but was standing behind a ledge that we had separating our living room from the hallway, and was holding a large, light brown envelope which was addressed to Zachariah Jones. The return address had an unusual postage sticker over it, so we had no idea who it came from. 

Aside from asking questions, tastes tests, and meeting any and everyone, Zach LOVES opening mail. It doesn’t matter what it is or who it is from. Anything that comes in the mail and can be opened, Zach is all over it. Funny enough, he doesn’t always really care what is IN the envelope, he just loves opening it. Once it’s opened, it gets tossed on the counter. Knowing this, my parents know not to open the mail, especially if it is addressed to Zach, because that is his job. 

We decided to try to pull back the odd postage label to see who it was from. As carefully as possible, we pulled the sides of the sticker up. After a few minutes, I look at my mom and said…the White House? In a moment a huge panic, I thought of all of the reasons why Zach might be getting mail from the White House and came up short. I wanted to open it right then, but before I could begin tearing the package, mom snatched it out of my hands and walked to Zach’s room. 

Very groggy, Zach slowly sat up, propped on an elbow to open his top secret mail. I watched as his eyes went from heavy with sleep to open in complete shock. Slowly, with the help from my mom, he pulled out a large, signed picture of Barack Obama, and then another picture of all of the Obama’s, and then another picture of their dogs, and then a coloring book entitled “Let’s Move”, and finally, a letter. 

Noticed. Zach was noticed by someone we had no idea who he was at the time, but would come to lead our country for two terms as president. 

Zach sprawled his new treasures across his sheets while I read this letter to him. He remembered. President Obama remembered Zach. Zach gazed at his pictures with tears rolling down his cheeks, “my friend Barack sent me pictures.” 

Being seen is something ever human strives for in life. Really seen. It isn’t something that happens for many people, especially those like my brother. When it does happen, it holds a lot of weight. 

The story of Zacchaeus shows us just how this notion of being seen is so important. Being a tax collector and abuser of this power, he was hated by all around him. 

He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-figtree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.

-Luke 19: 4-6

Jesus saw him. In that moment, Zacchaeus’ life changed forever. He was now known. He was seen. He was remembered. Jesus didn’t care for his status, He didn’t care that Zacchaeus was hated. He saw Zacchaeus and met him where he was. From there Zacchaeus changed. He knew love, became an honest man and received new life.

Zach, from that day was changed. It still hurts when he is ignored. It still hurts when instead of a handshake, he gets a horrified look. But. My brother Zach has his friend Barack who sought him out of the crowd, and who sent him pictures many years later, and he couldn’t be happier. 

Friends, as a challenge for this week, seek out someone who has gone unnoticed and see them, talk to them, and maybe share a picture or a meal.