I just returned home from celebrating a milestone birthday for my brother. His whole family (minus one son-in-law) was there along with my mother, sister, and a niece and her family. Though I know he means a lot to his daughters and wife as a father and husband, and to my mother as a son, for my sister and I, he is our brother, and that is its own special category.
He never got a choice at being a brother. He was born into it.
He didn’t have to accept the role. In fact, one year he didn’t. When I was a freshman in high school and he was a junior, he was telling everyone I was his cousin. But I forgave him, because at that point in his life, he didn’t claim to have any family.
But the rest of the time, he accepted the responsibility, which was what?
I was only 18 months his junior, so he was my playmate, my competitor, and my irritant. (He woke me once by lifting my bed off the floor and then dropping it—multiple times.)
He was my protector (He would float down the creek with me); the source of all knowledge (He had an answer for everything); and the fixer of all problems (After my college graduation he drove my Ford Galaxy four hours to my grandparents. No big deal? Well, something was wrong with the accelerator cable and he had to work it by hand. Good thing he was 6’3” with long arms.)
From then on, he was my hero.
Neither the years nor the distance have changed our relationship. Whenever we are together, he’s my big brother. I still turn to him for advice. Feel safe and secure when I am around him, and still believe he can fix anything and has the answer to everything.
James 1:17 says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights . . . .:
I thank God for this wonderful gift of my brother.
He never got a choice at being a brother. He was born into it.
He didn’t have to accept the role. In fact, one year he didn’t. When I was a freshman in high school and he was a junior, he was telling everyone I was his cousin. But I forgave him, because at that point in his life, he didn’t claim to have any family.
But the rest of the time, he accepted the responsibility, which was what?
I was only 18 months his junior, so he was my playmate, my competitor, and my irritant. (He woke me once by lifting my bed off the floor and then dropping it—multiple times.)
He was my protector (He would float down the creek with me); the source of all knowledge (He had an answer for everything); and the fixer of all problems (After my college graduation he drove my Ford Galaxy four hours to my grandparents. No big deal? Well, something was wrong with the accelerator cable and he had to work it by hand. Good thing he was 6’3” with long arms.)
From then on, he was my hero.
Neither the years nor the distance have changed our relationship. Whenever we are together, he’s my big brother. I still turn to him for advice. Feel safe and secure when I am around him, and still believe he can fix anything and has the answer to everything.
James 1:17 says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights . . . .:
I thank God for this wonderful gift of my brother.
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