On Not Understanding...

This is hard to write. I wrestle with the ideas and words behind this so much that they get caught up in the rafters of my heart and bring about no good change. But here it is:

I do not understand my little brother sometimes. While I usually can guess semi-accurately what he's thinking, and I always know what he means when he says things, there are so many times when I don't understand the silence, or the reason for his thoughts, or exactly what makes him tick. Innumerable times every day I wonder why he says what he says, or does what he does. And when people ask me to explain, I can merely shake my head and say "I don't know".

And I love him. That is even harder to express in words.

I beg God for grace to SEE what I cannot– the reason for who and what he is. But even if I can't see that, I know that there is one Who can, and it is my calling to passionately love this one who was fearfully and wonderfully made by Him.

The spontaneous hugs he gives make tears well up.

The jokes he crack make me shake my head in wonder.

The hymns he sing stretch the corners of my mouth.

The way he looks at me confuses me to no end.

His way of thinking threatens my view of the world.

We play basketball together, and I wonder in the wind about how he sees things. How his heart works, what he thinks of me, and why I can't pry inside.

But maybe I don't need to. He hands me the ball and tells me it's time for one-on-one.  He finds joy in each of us shooting, scoring, and keeping the steadily rising scores even in his head. He laughs, hops, and all around him glows.

This is where we grow, barely talking-- just laughing and knowing exactly who we are in that moment. We are the kids holding the ball, feeling the wind, hoping in the Lord.

And I love my baby brother. Beyond words.