My Life Down the Road: Little Brother

Christopher Jon is my little brother. Though he stands well over six feet tall, towering above the rest of our family, he's still my baby brother.

I used to be the baby. I was the youngest of all the cousins, enjoyed being the center of attention and always got the most presents at Christmas. But that changed when I was six years old. Mom and Dad brought a strawberry blond baby boy home from the hospital. He was so cute you couldn't help pinching his cheeks. He remained a cutie-pa-tootie until I had to share a bathroom with him.

A preteen girl should never be forced to share a bathroom with her younger brother. I dreamed of the day when the toilet seat would be lowered and the toothpaste wouldn't be splattered all over the place or completely dried up because he forgot to put the lid on. The mystery puddles on the floor would be water from the shower and if we were out of air freshener it wouldn't be a national emergency. I even remember the potty training stage when Mom brought him a game involving tiny paper boats. The object was to sink them successfully then watch as they were sucked into a swirling vortex of toilet water. Need I say more?

As he got older, things got more interesting. When he was old enough to appreciate the movie Star Wars, which made it's debut in 1977, my parents bought him the eight track. Yes, I said eight track. If you're too young to have any idea what that is, look it up! He listened to it over and over and over - stretched out on his stomach in the living room on the green shag carpet, building tiny Lego spaceships, and reciting every line of the movie along with the accompanying sound effects. He nearly drove us crazy! When Ghost Busters came out in 1984 Mom gathered a bunch of spare parts and junk from around the house and he built his own Ghost Buster's backpack. He also dug some nifty underground tunnels in the backyard using Daddy's good tools. When my father fell into one while doing yard work he discovered his missing tools, buried and completely rusted. Dad still talks about it even though Chris replaced them long ago.

He had the worst allergies ever - mold, mildew, dust, and cat hair, which required weekly shots. Mom became permanently attached to either a dusting cloth or a the vacuum cleaner. The only time in my life I threatened to run away was the day we had to give our cat away. I put my worldly possessions in a wagon, announced to my parents that it was either me and the cat, or Christopher, then I walked down the street, sat in the dirt and cried. Needless to say, Mom and Dad choose Chris over the cat.

Chris was a bit hyper-active as a kid. Maybe it was sugar, maybe it was allergy medication, maybe he was just full of energy and needed to burn it off by running circles around the rest of us. In light of that I'm still not sure why my parents were so shocked to come home from an outing one night only to find him pinned face down, spread-eagle in the family room with me sitting on top of him. It seemed like a good idea at the time - the easiest way to babysit while my parents were gone, literally. Mom wasn't pleased. "We're going to drive around the block and when we get back I don't want to see this!" Unfortunately the same scene greeted them when they opened the door the second time. It escapes my memory which one of us got into more trouble that night.

There were times during Christopher's teenage years I was doubtful Dad would allow him to live past the age of seventeen. Daddy often quoted Bill Cosby, "I'll take you out, boy, and make another one just like you!" Those were difficult and tenuous years but things have changed.

These days we talk several times a week on the phone. He comes for dinner and stays to play boards games with the family. He attends church with us when work doesn't get in the way. We find time to hang out, take a walk, watch a movie, talk about our lives, and do grownup stuff together. He lets down his guard and shares his heart with me more than he used to. Sometimes I think about Chris as a little boy and I remember all the crazy, creative things he used to do. Sometimes I think about the years we were afraid of losing him or of him losing himself in bad decisions and the wrong sort of company. He's come through some really hard situations and is a better man because of the lessons he learned.

He's learned to be responsible, to work hard, to be loyal, to be a good friend. He's learned how important family is and he's learning that you can't live your life as an island because that's not what God intended. He's learned that we need each other; we need people in our life who challenge us and who love us enough to tell us the truth. He's learning to give himself away and find joy in not living a completely selfish life.

I've always loved my little brother but I find him becoming more dear to me as the years go by. I'm really glad my parents chose Chris over the cat and Dad let him live because the best years are ahead of us.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,

plans for wholeness and not for evil;

to give you a future and a hope.