FROM THE PASTOR’S DESK, 24 APRIL 2026

My brother, Clarence Albert Brown, Jr. was found dead in his room this past Tuesday.

He fought addiction most of his life. However, he was not just an addict.

We called him Baby Boy for the longest. Then Bay Boy, and finally settled on Bruh. He was the only boy, right in the middle of five sisters.

When he was born, we shared a house with this family with two mean sisters. I am six years older (he was born 6 February, barely one month before I turned six, 18 March). My mother had to work, our biological father decided a boy child wasn’t enough to make him stay, so I babysat him.

The mean sisters and their friends wanted to see him. The Spirit told me that they would hurt him. So I hid him in the curtains, behind a chair, on my chest, while he slept soundly. They searched every where, but, they never found us. They never tried again. I would have hurt them if they tried to hurt my baby brother.

He sang like an angel. He was a novelist and a poet. He was wicked smart and could make a rock laugh. And cooked like a chef.

His addiction, which exacerbated his diabetes, had caused him to loose half of both his feet. When he told me he wasn’t going to rehab, but, would rent a room in Baltimore and rehab himself, in his old drug stomping grounds, I knew he wasn’t going to make it. My beautiful Baby Boy wasn’t going to make it. And I couldn’t protect him from his drug addiction. Lord knows I would have, if I could have. He was tired. GOD took him Home.

Sometimes, brothers and sisters, we can’t save our loved ones. Sometimes the cracks are too deep, the traumas too hard. All we can do is love them and pray for them. Love each other anyway. GOD and they will make the decision whether or not it is time to come Home and rest.

Baby Boy, I will always love you. You are finally alright.

Your Brennie.