Deciding that this blog has been pretty heavy lately, I've decided to take a detour.
All my life I've been surrounded by "maleness". When I was little I had 3 big brothers and a dad who were all larger than life to me. Our neighbors pretty much all had boys my age so boys are who I played with.
Then when my dad remarried he married a woman who had one son and one daughter. There was a little femininity added to my life, but only twice a year.
My dad and step-mother went on to have 3 sons together. Do you realize what that means?
Three big brothers, three little brothers.
Then I found a wonderful man and married him. Guess what we had? 4 boys.
However, it's my step-brother I'm going to focus on tonight.
His name is Mike. Mike is one of the sweetest, most patient people I know. My dad would sometimes treat him abominably but Mike put up with it with quiet endurance. I remember one time we were all swimming at my dad's. We were getting cold and tired and ready to call it a day. Everyone but dad. He started teasing Mike and chasing him around, hoping to throw him back in the lake. Eventually Mike sat down on the dock thinking that would stop dad. Ha. Dad simply grabbed Mike by the ankles and pulled him down the dock and dumped him in the lake.
When Mike crawled out of the water his back and legs were absolutely covered in splinters from the dock. He was a mess of pain filled, red, oozy slivers for a long time.
Another time we were having a bubble blowing contest to see who could blow the biggest bubble. Mike managed to blow one bigger than his head. Guess who popped it, spreading the sticky goo all over Mike's hair and face? (I'll give you a hint. It wasn't me.)
It's not just my dad Mike put up with. He just told me recently about an event that happened on his honeymoon. (Hope you're not reading this Mike because I'm a big picture person. I know I'll get some of the details mixed up.)
Anyway, he and his new bride decided one night to go get a pizza. It was one of those massive, thick, cheesy Chicago Style type thingies. On the way back to their motel a young girl missed a light or something and plowed into their car. Anyway, the poor girl was so distraught Mike and his wife decided to sit down and share their pizza with her while they waited for the cops to arrive on the scene.
Mike and I became friends the minute my dad married his mom. We laughed together, and made up really goofy poems and teased our 3 half-brothers mercilessly. I always felt safe with Mike. We would spend hours together fishing, talking and rowing around the lake. Mike's friendship was like a gentle breeze where the rest of my life was turmoil. At some point I stopped going to visit dad and Mike and I lost track of each other. It wasn't until my dad's funeral that we saw each other again and renewed our friendship. We are now email penpals.
The other day Mike asked me when I was going to blog about my Cool Step-Brother. Never.
You're not cool Mike. You're something WAY better and God used you to comfort a hurting little girl when you didn't even know you were doing it.
