Big Head

It's probably not nice to call him that on his birthday.

But a cap that fits his head also fits perfectly on mine, so who are we really insulting here?

It's my most recent of nicknames for my beloved brother since I've been working for his best friend all summer. Every other day Jordan would demand, "call yo' big head brother up her'." I've called him by many other names throughout our childhood. Starting with "wook" moving on to "wookie" then dufus and lucas, to mr. pOlice man and Lukie. It's enough names to cover each of his roles in life. Husband, son, police man, Christian, friend. I, however, am particularly fond of his role as brother.

He's one of the few people I cherish as much as I cherish Emily. And for all intents and purposes, I've cherished him longer. No offense to Em, but she hated me. So really, offense to me. ;) Hate isn't the word. There is just something so annoying about a little sister getting all up in your room and taking stuff or mixing up your shampoos to make a concoction or entertaining your company or stealing all of your attention just by being born that you just don't really get over quickly. So while Em and I have some very fond memories of each other in our earlier years, interspersed are some less than pleasant. It's natural for sisters and I hardly hold it against her. But for every time I can remember getting upset as a kid, I can remember Luke doing his best to calm me down.

I went to Luke to be held as a baby. I patiently sat as he and dad played crash bandicoot on the nintendo because I felt cool just watching him. I proudly looked on at basketball games and ROTC marches, at each event feeling like a VIP because that was my brother out there. I came home from school with a story of a girl threatening me, so he strapped pillows to himself and made me fight. In the eighth grade (and ever) I didn't have a boyfriend on valentine's day and even though he had no money, Luke bought me and emily roses and m&m's to tell us how proud he was to be our brother. One night on the way home from church I mentioned that I couldn't drive a stick shift, so Luke did his best to teach me in the Harvest Foods parking lot. It didn't work because I had to pee SO bad, but it was the thought.

In a lot of ways, Luke pushes me. Like with the stick shift. He helped teach me to ride a bike. He told me I'd be okay when he strapped a leash on the back of his bike, put me in roller blades and told me to hold on while he peddled. And I was. He lets me help at miscellaneous projects and assures me I can do it. He teaches me to make a "W" with a roller paint brush to get the best coverage. He makes me kill the roach to help me overcome my fear of roaches. I really can't remember other specific times right now, but there have been a number of cases where I didn't think I could do something and he'd say "c'mon, Sade." And, so as to never disappoint my big brother, I would.

Where Emily teaches me a lesson in my strengths and weaknesses by having a personality so different than mine, Luke shows me strengths and weaknesses by mirroring a lot of similar personality traits.

For example. One day Stephanie, Luke and I were in the kitchen. Luke got a glass from the cabinet and shut it. Then I got a glass and it, uh hmm, slipped my mind to shut the cabinet door. Stephanie turns around to see the open door and sighs a sigh that says this is a battle she's not willing to take on. Still, she decides to grumble a bit under her breath to me.

Closing the door nonchalantly she mutters "this is so like him."

"what?" I ask.

"gets a glass and..." She goes silent mid-sentence and turns to her cutting board.

"what?"

It dawns on her that I was the culprit. Not her beloved husband. It is something he would do. It's just something I would do, too. There are many, many behavioral similarities like these. Not the least of which being our speech patterns. This summer I have adopted his habit of making every "a" a long "A". The bAthroom. An Apple. It's become so second nature that I can't even think any more up right now. I do know now to make a concentrated effort to shut the cabinet door.

I used to get so upset when Luke was in trouble. Especially the older he got. One time I remember him crying in his room after some big conversation he had with mom and dad. In my mind he was the brother who could do no wrong. And since he was the strong, invincible one I was always overwhelmed to see him broken. After all, he was the one assuring me I could handle... fill in the blank. So if he couldn't handle something, I felt defenseless. This one time I went in his room, he was maybe 16, me 9, and asked "are you okay?" It was a bold move on my part because I don't handle sorrow, however fleeting, very well. He gave an unconvincing "yeah." Appropriately unconvinced, I went to his side and awkwardly hugged his neck. He moved to hug me back and said in that familiar voice "thanks, Sade."

I felt the exact same kind of helplessness when he (voluntarily) went off to military academy for his junior year of high school. Again when he left for boot camp. When he subsequently came home on medical discharge. Leaving Ouachita. Losing his truck. Etcetera.

Emily has always been the "friend" little sister. Close enough in age to share a peer group and interests. When Luke was in trouble, she was the one to offer advice or express her disappointment. I was the "adoring" little sister. Less constructive in my childlike devotion and less poised to offer insight. But I empathized. Empathized because even back then I viewed life similarly to Luke. Very, very type B. The mistakes he made I could easily see myself making.

And because of him, I haven't had to.

Not that Luke's life is even close to my example of what not to do. It's what he does well that makes me admire him. It's that he has pulled through so far which inspires me. Luke doesn't do things half way. He's not a half way friend. He's not a half way cop. He's not a half way husband. Etcetera. I can't recall a time when he didn't call out as I left the house, "I love you, Sade." Not ever has he been ashamed to tell me that. I realize that some people won't ever get it from their siblings, and it is one of the greatest treasures I have as his sister.

He's passionate about what he loves. Lucky for us.

He's sociable as all get out. He's smart, but doesn't just save it for a classroom. He finds everyday ways to apply his knowledge. He's handy like that.

Most of all, He is dedicated to finding out God's will for his life. I'll never forget the summer of 2007. Because I am 7 years younger, I've never really done a lot with just me and Luke. So to spend 3 weeks with just the two of us representing the family on mission trips was a completely new experience. We spent 2 weeks in Brazil in June with a great group of 5 others, meeting faithful translators and missionaries while serving a poor community in Manaus. I saw Luke's heart for people really shine on that trip and watched him once again fall in love with missions.

Then, in July, we went on a youth trip to St. Louis for M-FUGE. The whole week was about giving and the "underground" of being a Christian-- Service and attitude and the things people don't see. On the last night I saw Luke at the end of the row of chairs in the big auditorium. He had bowed his head at the end of worship and sat in his seat to pray. Around him, the audience cleared out, even our group. I walked with them, but stopped short of the exit. I looked back, seeing him still. I didn't know if I should stay or go pray with him or just move on, so I just went and sat next to him with my hand on his shoulder. After a few minutes in this silent room, he got up and hugged me and we went about group time. I couldn't help but remember that night in his room. Two big memories I have that were not necessarily outstanding in their time. But they are exemplary of our dynamic and the example Luke sets for me.

It's not about being around someone all time. It's not about failure or fear. It's not about age or circumstance. Love is knowing someone is there. It's knowing you can just be. There need not always be words or advice or scorn. Sometimes love is just a willing pair of arms and the humility to let them wrap around you.

And while it may not have been the best thing to have had a childlike faith in my brother (especially with the roller blade/bike combo situation), it means I do have the capacity to have such confidence and trust in God. Having a brother who will be there to protect me further leads me to believe that I have a God even nearer.

On the eve of his 27th birthday, my prayer is pulled from a devotional book he gave me right before I left for freshman year at UMW. The prayer itself is not a part of the published book, its what Luke wrote on the very first page and dated "29 March 2007."

Oh Lord, open my eyes to see you. Open my heart so that I may experience you in a real way. A way that changes my life. In a way that brings me to my knees... to experience you in a way that would change the lives of those around me would be my life's goal... Oh Lord, King of Kings, show me but a portion of you so that I may count myself changed.