When you are a prodigal son come home for only a few months, and you still are relearning what your family is really about, family life can come at you really fast.
It was a quiet late summer day in the Dubois Family home in Tinyville, VA. Jules Dubois, the prodigal son returned to living with his parents after his exit from New York and his entire life there, had settled back into the peaceful rhythm of Dubois life, in Louisiana, Texas, Virginia, and Montreal – big, generous, and peaceful, after the manner of life Jean-Luc Dubois, their father, set forth.
There was also a lot to be said for quietly minding one's own business, and Jules' branch of the family got that from their mother, Madame Ébène-Cerise Dubois … day after average day, most of their children and grandchildren got things done and advanced the family's success without attracting unneeded attention, which was always important if one was Black French Louisianan and already commanded attention for that fact everywhere but in the bayous from which they hailed.
Jules had settled into that rhythm of life to the point that he wondered what he ever saw in the wild life he had been living in New York, and thanked God that Covid-19 had provided the pressure he needed to repent and come home.
And then came the phone call … it started simply enough.
“Bon Jour! Dubois et la Maison!”
Jules had grown up answering the phone that way for his entire childhood and early adulthood life … Dubois at Home was the name of the family restaurant, but it also meant much more … that all was well with the family and they were at home to provide hospitality to anyone who might come at need.
“Père Dubois!”
“No, Monsieur Jules – son deuxiéme fils [his second-born son].”
“Oncle Jules! C'est Amélie!”
There came a flood of words expressing love and joy that he was back safely home – this was a niece, apparently, and Jules knew there was no way in the world he could keep track of all his nieces and nephews although they surely knew about his adventures between an allergy attack and a Covid-19 scare. He didn't recognize the voice or name, but that made no difference, yet.
Amélie had big news; Uncle Jules was now a great-uncle, and this is where the confusion started … Jules had not heard from anyone that any of his ten siblings was even a grandparent yet. Gilbert his own brother had just gotten married, and his wife was expecting twins. His sister Lycelia's youngest child was just nine – niece Louisa, who was living with her grandparents in Virginia. The firstborn, Jeanne-Cerise, was 55 years old, and she did have adult children, but Jules knew all of them and there was not an Amélie in that bunch.
Monsieur Jean-Luc Dubois poked his head out of the kitchen, still holding his big stew spoon and wearing his apron.
“Qu'est-ce, mon fils? [Who is it?]”
“Amélie,” Jules said, and then watched his father's whole face light up.
“Elle a-accouché? [She has given birth?]” said Père Dubois.
“Oui oui, Père.”
“Ah!”
Père Dubois reached for the receiver, an overjoyed great-grandfather, and the conversation commenced at a speed that even Jules, who had lost a lot of his French in New York, could not keep up with until his father asked the unthinkable.
“And how is your father, my dear son Guillaume?”
Now this, Jules heard, and it hit him like a thunderbolt. He knew the names of his brothers: Jean-Paul, Gilbert, Émile, and René. There was no Guillaume – if there were, that shattered everything Jules thought he knew about his thought-to-be-ever-faithful father, and his entire family.
Major Jean-Paul Philippe Dubois, Père Dubois's second child and eldest son, had been out doing business for the family and returned to find Jules in the front yard, shaking and silently weeping, in a total breakdown.
The thing about Jean-Paul: he was not that cold elder brother from the story of the Prodigal Son, although he had all the qualifications of near-perfect obedience to his father. His receipt of his brother Jules back at home was as warm as that of his parents, and Jules welcomed his elder brother's strong embrace before his speaking.
“Jules, whatever is the matter?”
“You are the eldest of six brothers, and do not know it!”
Then the whole story came out about how Jules had learned of Guillaume.
“What are we going to do? Maman will be home with Louisa from the market at any moment! What do we tell Louisa! I mean, the whole story of their marriage and their life and everything we have been telling ourselves and this example that Père was supposed to be holding up – it's all a lie!”
Jean-Paul just let his brother cry for a moment longer … Jules had always been excitable, but these were opportunities for growth, if handled well.
“Jules,” he said, “don't you remember? We used to play with Guillaume growing up … his father was in prison, so our father just kind of adopted him like he adopted many others. I am not the eldest of six brothers; it's probably more like six dozen.”
“Wait … what?”
“Think, Jules – you remember Guillaume! Père sent him through school, and he left home for Grambling State about the same time I went to West Point.”
“Oh, wait a minute … yes, I do remember now … that's our childhood friend Guillaume, so, Amélie is his daughter?”
“And she was expecting twins, so those are Guillaume's grandchildren, and so they are our father's great-grandchildren, in love if not in law.”
Jules settled down then, it all becoming clear to him – but then he had another thought.
“Okay, so, how big is our extended family now, because Père is always collecting people to add to it!”
“Only le bon Dieu knows, and we will find out on the day we bury Père,” Jean-Paul said. “Remember, I've only been home three months longer than you and I'm still getting caught up.”
“I don't see how you stay so calm about it, though … if you're one of six dozen, how is there even enough of Père to go around?”
Jean-Paul thought about that a long time, and then placed his hand on his younger brother's shoulder.
“So, how many children does our Heavenly Father have?”
“Oh, right, right,” Jules said.
“Some of them He has assigned over here,” Jean-Paul said, “but our Heavenly Father does not over-burden his servants.”
“Right, right,” Jules said.
“Also consider this, mon frere,” Jean-Paul said with an even gentler tone. “Our father has three born brothers who abandoned the family. Two have come back home, and the door is open to the third. Consider how many other boys looking for a father to come home to might come to a door like that, to a love like that, pouring from our Heavenly Father through our father's heart.”
After that, Jules, the eldest of the three prodigals and the first to come home, wept again, but now from being humbled by the full understanding of the matter.
“I feel stupid for making this mountain out of a molehill,” he said, “but I get it now, Jean-Paul.”
“Sometimes, you just have to climb the molehill – just a little better perspective,” Jean-Paul said.
Jules embraced his brother.
“You have always been the best elder brother, ever, and I bet you and Guillaume have kept up all this time.”
“And, Guillaume has been praying for you and has been waiting to reconnect with you, Jules,” Jean-Paul said. “I think the right moment may have arrived – we are great-uncles now!”
“Heck, Jean-Paul, I don't even have children yet,” Jules said. “Gilbert is on track, and René is not even 30 yet … I feel like I've missed so much of real family life! I'm 45 and I have nothing.”
“Stop it,” Jean-Paul said. “You came to your senses and decided to be Dubois. You don't think that Père has several dozen daughters whom he could introduce you to, not to mention all these beautiful women here in Lofton County?”
“Oh, right, right. I need to get my life and my temperament together a bit more, though.”
“Just a bit more, Jules. Just a bit.”
“Louisa has been saying that I need to find a big Louisa,” said Jules with a smile.
“And if you are taking advice from a nine year old – and that particular nine year old – on the subject, you certainly do need a bit more work.”