SermonStudio

It's not that I ever feel that my brother is far away. It's just that, so often, I would love to sit over coffee with him or watch him work on my 1971 bug car. I think he must feel the same way.

I am the youngest of three, separated by nine and eleven years from my older brother and sister, respectively. They included me in their lives as they lived at home and then moved on to establishing their own homes. Some of my memories with them are more vivid than others, and I can distinctly see, in my mind's eye, a picture of my brother taking me, many times, for a ride on the back of his bike.

As I sat at his hospital bedside, with the intrusion of a chemical drip in his arm battling the lung cancer that had invaded his body, we played an inane game of Battleship and said huge things to each other that will echo in my brain always ... as he told me how proud he was of me ... his little sister.

When Wayne died, I felt an incredible loss -- this person I had idolized my whole life was no longer here to hang out with. But I became aware of his presence, through little and big moments since then, keeping me safe or meeting people he would seemingly want to be a part of my life.

I believe he is just on the other side and can make himself known to me at whim.

I pulled into the Ohio Turnpike service area to fill the van's gas tank on one of my many fifteen-hour road trips touring as a musician. Parking next to the gas pump, I got out to fill the car with gas when I saw on the all-white pump, in raised white letters, the word "Wayne." I drove away from a gig in Cincinnati and happened to glance to the right of the interstate to see a big building with the word "Wayne" written across it. The traffic was congested, so I was concentrating on my driving outside of the Seattle airport, when I felt a sudden need to look at the sign on the side of the road. It read "Wayne." The day I finished recording some tracks for a new project, I started to drive home from Nashville. I felt sad. Very sad. It was the anniversary of Wayne's death. As I drove, I found myself looking for a sign of him; I had come to expect them. I had already traveled about six hours when I impatiently said aloud, "Where are you, Bro? I need you today!" It wasn't but a few minutes later when a truck passed by on my right and I felt compelled to look at it. As it passed, I could see emblazoned across the side the words, "Wayne, Wayne, Wayne." Okay! I get it!

Yes, angel, you are my big brother.

I'm still riding on the back of your bike.

Always.

Thanks for the ride.

"angel you are"

when I was a little girl you always took me along with you and I
never imagined there would come a day when you couldn't go
as you rode your bike through the streets back home
you rode me along
and you took such care as you rode me there
my big brother so strong

now you're an angel in my life
and i'm still ridin' on the back of your bike
you've got the handlebars firm in your hand
leadin' me through unfamiliar land
you're my big brother till the end of all time
angel you are
angel you are

now i'm all grown up and in charge of just where I go yet I
always seem to see reminders of you everywhere, I know
that you're there, you are always there,
you're still leadin' the way
somehow you still take care as I go here and there
even from far away

'cause you're an angel in my life
and i'm still ridin' on the back of your bike
you've got the handlebars firm in your hand
leadin' me through unfamiliar land
you're my big brother till the end of all time
angel you are
angel you are

now it seems to me that you can still somehow be a part
when you choose to be you can be here, you're not just part of my heart ...

'cause you're an angel in my life
and i'm still ridin' on the back of your bike
you've got the handlebars firm in your hand
leadin' me through unfamiliar land
you're my big brother till the end of all time
angel you are
angel you are

(copyright 2002 kerri sherwood from the album as sure as the sun)

The song "angel you are" is included on the Kerri Sherwood album as sure as the sun. This album can be purchased through the recording label Sisu Music Productions, Inc. toll-free 800-651-SISU (7478), through the website www.kerrisherwood.com, through Amazon.com or retail stores nationwide. Kerri has seven other albums currently released.