There’s something I’ve always wanted.
It has driven many of my relationships.
It’s a longing that I think every man feels at a certain level but hesitates to express.
It’s a big brother.
We want and need fathers, their strength, and protection.
We need our moms and no kidding benefit from their presence in times of duress.
But a big brother. He’s the guy who’s been there but is also available to talk you through the times without passing punishment on to you. He knows the ropes and went right before you. He has empathy. And if he’s being raised right, he’s going to help lead you from your shoulder, rather than from in front of you.
Three of my children have an older brother who just turned 6.
He’s learned how to sacrifice what he wants because toys take a back seat to the companionship of his siblings.
When Leo was born, Peter met him and instantly went for the toy trains to bring him one. Even at 3, Peter knew he would need to teach this little guy how to play like a boy.
When we come into the hospital, Leo shows Peter around to see all the cool things. Peter shows Leo how to be brave. He also advises Leo on which toys to pick out in the triage room.
There’s no one who can frustrate him more efficiently.
There’s no one aside from Désirée or me who can make the monsters seem smaller.
We just got biopsy results back.
No need for radiation.
One more road we won’t have to travel to the end of this journey. No matter what roads are coming, we’re walking together. A baby boy with a smile that stops traffic, a ballerina who praises Jesus with her mind and heart, a momma who doesn’t give up, a daddy who can’t stop wondering at the strength and power of the love poured out over us, a brave little lion, and his big brother.
Peter. The bear.