Brotherly love

I just came back from a trip 15,000 miles from home to celebrate the union of my brother and his wife. Here are the words I dedicated to him during the festivities.
---------------------------------------
For many of you who do not know, I am the other sister -- the one who lives in the U.S. and the one who was the youngest in the family for seven glorious years until you came along.

My 'baby' brother.

You were the brother we brought up -- we watched after you, we picked you up when you cried, we held you back when you went too far. You were also the younger brother we didn't always have room for. Remember my 16th birthday party? You were nine and you kept turning down the dance music because it was just too loud for you. Look how things have changed. Then, there was the time when you would stand infront of the TV when your sister and I were trying to watch the Donny and Marie Show because you wanted to watch something else.

But you weren't always in the way. Remember the time when the three of us stood on our coffee table and used it as a platform to 'dive?' Two of us were old enough to know better ... well, at least ONE of us should have been. We did a few spectacular 'dives' off the table/diving platform but of course it was only fun until something breaks. We ended up popping the top of the table under our weight -- the big centerpiece of the living room -- but your sister and I fixed it before mama and abah got home that day and I don't think they ever found out.

You might have heard us jokingly refer to you as the 'unexpected surprise' of the family -- coming seven years after me, and 10 after your sister. Almost like a question mark. But, the truth of the matter is -- you are like that second parenthesis in this family. Mama and abah started this family more than half a century ago and put in place the first parenthesis. They were the first 'arm' and under its wraps, they had your sister, me and with it, all the colorful, rich moments that we've had together.

You are that other arm that completes this embrace. You, my brother, complete the family. You are the brother with the mischevious, loving, well-intentioned ways -- even if it's sometimes in your unconventional style. You brought a certain element of balance into the family; more importantly, you brought into the family your beautiful bride -- a girl as lovely inside as she is on the outside. And, tonight, you've given us all a reason to pause our lives just long enough to rejoice in the celebration of love in your life and in ours as well.

I am so proud of being your sister and I am incredibly happy you've found the person to share the rest of your charmed life with. I know Mama is looking down on this very joyous occasion and she is absolutely beaming with pride.

I love you and I wish you and your bride all the best a sister can ever wish her younger brother.

Glass door

Grounding Words has been such a generous project. The challenge of etching my thoughts in digital permanence, stripping layers of emotional scab has been miniscule compared to the higher consciousness, deeper relationships and sweet sincerity it has drawn to me.

One such serendipitous relationship is with my guest blogger, K. G. She and I have peeled off a couple layers of personas to reveal to one another a kinship we share -- our daughters. I've invited her to share a note she sent to me on a beautiful insight she gained in her travels as a mom.

Some of you may know that I had carpal tunnel release surgery this Wednesday (hence the slight hiatus -- my article on Vicodin and its psychedelic colors, and the perils of a one-handed typist will be forthcoming ...) And, you may have read that I had been planning to get this done in an earlier blog. That is the pain that K.G. references in the beginning of her note.

K is embarking on a new chapter in her life as she prepares to wed her daughter off in two weeks. I point out the obvious strength I sense about her, me crumbling just with the thought of college in a couple of years.

Thanks for letting me share, fellow traveller.
------------------------------------------------------------
I wanted to wish you well today as you have your pain issue resolved. You could look at this as a process in your evolution. Without pain, we don’t realize we have problems. Without problems, we can never be truly understanding and compassionate for others experiencing similar life issues.

I was thinking about your daughter last night. It reminded me of a time I was caring for children in my home. We had about 15 children after school and after a snack they went outside to play to let off some energy. My helpers were outside at the time and I was inside cleaning up after snack and I saw something that shouldn't be happening (can’t really remember anymore what it was) and I proceeded to rush outside.

Earlier that afternoon, the sliding glass door had been cleaned. It was as though the door wasn’t really there and I tried to run through it. Predictably, I slammed into the door nose first and found myself flat on my back!

Sometimes parents have to act as that door.

We give our children a glass to look through to see the outside world, wonder about it and hopefully ask questions about it. But, when they try to go through the door before they are ready, we are the door that holds them back. Sometimes they are grateful and other times, they hurt their nose. Would I remove the door because I slammed into? Of course not. It was there to keep my family safe. It protected us from the inclement weather and those would invade us. But, I did learn to be more cautious running out the door.

Only by running into the ‘parent door’ do our children learn not only to be cautious but that parents are firm in their convictions and their dedication to keeping us safe. Eventually, the door will open and they will go out but they will always know that the door represents where they came from and uncompromising love. Sometimes they run back until they get used to the feeling of freedom and need to feel the security of safety behind the door again.

Finally, one day they step out and don’t come back but they know the door is always open to them. That gives them the courage to keep moving on.

I hope this gives you some hope and confidence when you have to be the ‘door’ and feel the pain.