As we’ve been spending so much time with the situations arising among my husband’s siblings lately, I’ve been thinking about my own family so much more. Then I remembered I’d not finished my little series on being the middle child.
You’ve heard the phrase, “save the best for last,” haven’t you? I think that’s what my parents thought when younger brother, Brad, came along. My assessment is highly prejudiced, however, so I ask him and my readers to take this post with a grain of salt. You’ll see why in a minute.
|L-R: Me, Mom, and Brad (one month)|
Brad was born when I was eight years old. My older brother had married when I was six. I had enjoyed two years of bliss with my status as the only child. Now, it was gone in a flash!
There was crying, wailing, little sleeping with this unhappy, colicky little one in the house. Later, the pediatrician determined his discomforts were all caused by enlarged tonsils and adenoids which couldn’t come out until he was six! Sounded like an eternity to me.
Finally, he began to grow into what I thought was a human being. I learned quickly that toddlers can move rapidly through your things. Things would go missing from my room. I’d find them in the strangest places — bathrooms, behind the sofa, under the dining table, inside cupboards.
The worst was yet to come — he kept growing and growing and growing. Pretty soon he was in school and friends the same size and age were invading the house. By this time, I’m in my teens and don’t want them around. According to my parents, the playmates were good for Brad so they would stay.
Then he became a teenager interested in all things automotive, both under and over the hood. Fortunately, he wasn’t yet old enough to drive, but he wanted car magazines and books. Always with the borrowing of money! How was a non-working individual going to pay me back? He didn’t!
Despite my best efforts as his big sister to get him in trouble and keep him in hot water with Mom, Brad always managed to find his way out of trouble. Many nights were spent in my bedroom with the door closed with him sharing with me what he’d been doing that night, and his daring me to tell Mom. He knew I’d tattled on him many times and he was very cautious as he grew older to make sure I kept my mouth shut. Now I’ve figured out I could have charged him for my secrecy.
I could tell you more but I don’t want to bore you. However, Brad grew into a very responsible and successful man married with a lovely family. He’s now enjoying being a grandpa and looking forward to another on the way.
Writer’s Disclaimer: Despite what I’ve written about our time growing up, separated by years on both sides of me, I love my brothers very much. Currently, we are 80, 66 and 57, and not only are we separated by years, we are separated by 2,000 plus miles.
Recent events in my husband’s family have made me aware just how precious life and family are with respect to who we are and who we become in this ever-evolving thing we call life. I have taken much for granted over the years, including my brothers. I hear God calling me to change that attitude into one of being more constant about contact with them and letting them know I care for and love them.
Q4U: What about you do you have some family or even friends with whom you’ve grown distant? Why not think about drawing a little closer in the coming weeks? It only takes a little effort on our part — that’s all it costs!
proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you.
Keep company with him and learn a life of love.
Observe how Christ loved us.
His love was not cautious but extravagant.
He didn’t love in order to
get something from us but to give everything of himself to us.
Love like that.