To my older brother and "baby" sister: please know that I love you both, more than I am able to describe - you are both so different, and remarkable people that have shaped my life in so many ways. You are well worthy to be looked to as wonderful examples of God's heavenly presence in the family here on earth. I am honored and humbled to be your brother.
To my fellow "middle" colleague: You are a treasure, you have always been a treasure. Maybe we share some of these thoughts. Our lives are all voices - your voice is sweetness to my ears. I hope you know that.
To all my other readers:
Please do not be put off by the style of this expository essay; it is written in the form of random thoughts and feelings. Regardless of whether you are a "Middle" or not, you may learn something about yourself or someone whom you love in this post - at least that is my prayer. And be patient, it is long. Strangely, this piece was written for a friend and was not designed specifically for me, my brother, or sisters - but I hope they read it, and in so doing, sound the depths of my devotion for each of them.
I have no remembrance of ever being a child alone - he was always there, first. Since he came before me, I would never know what his young life was like before I arrived, I just know he existed on earth before me. I can really only remember him from the age of five or six, and he was seven or eight years old by then. I do not remember him being a nice fellow either - surely he resented me intruding in his singular love affair with Mom and Dad. How could he not? Perhaps he was unhappy with himself or his life, or more likely, I was simply an easy and most appropriate target at which to aim his frustrations - regardless, it was only a temporary madness. And I was occasionally the cause of my own pain, perhaps more often than not. No regret or forgiveness is necessary between us now.
Firstborn are always prized, as they should be. But taxes are due on receipt of great prizes - and strange as it may seem, the Firstborn must pay them. Yet that seems just to me: with great blessings comes great responsibilities - responsibilities require toilsome times. The gift of being Firstborn is not a free gift. Few are found worthy of Firstborn status - he is one of those few. How could I resent that? How dare I not be grateful for it? How foolish would it be for me not to look to him for leadership?
It has taken many years to learn the truth. Looking up to him does not diminish me. Valuing him does not make me less worthy. In fact, as his wealth in wisdom grows, so grows mine also. Has He not designed it so that the example of a Godly man inspires those around him? It is rightfully so. Yet I am heedfully reminded - he is a man nonetheless, defiled by imperfection, just as I.
The first I knew of her was that her spirit was sweeter than blooming honeysuckle on a warm and southern spring day. Yet delicate, and like the primrose, often blooming only in the night - unseen by many, except by those of us watching. For so many reasons, the world does not deserve such delicate beauty of the heart. Harsh touches hurt deeply - petals dulled. But true beauty, like gold, is not dimmed with time. In fact, when gold is fired, it becomes more pure. She has always been my friend. She has always loved me. She has always been loved. But she has not, perhaps, always felt loved.
She and I communicate in deeper places, where words do not exist and are never heard - not because words are not of great value, but because they are unnecessary in those places. She is my "middle" - the body's core of strength lies in the middle. She would be greatly surprised to think of herself as strength, but she shouldn't be. She is special, and not to me only. Her name means "grace" or "favour" - I am graced with great favor to have her.
It took her many years to be heard above the din of her reputation - spoiled youngest child. She is the only one I remember being born, remember Mom bringing home in a bundle. She was a bundle, and now, in more mature ways she remains a bundle. She is no longer "the baby", hasn't been for years, but she did mostly receive benefit of the doubt when she was young. The rest sometimes resented her for that - we just did not know, we could not have known, could we? When God touches a heart, He sets it on a path of true change. This is to us His grandest gift, for no man, woman, or child alone can change another's heart, only God in his infinite grace can do that.
For many years now, she has unknowingly served as my touchstone - where I turn to seek renewal of my "better angels". In her youth she was a talker, she could keep up with the best of them. Now she speaks less, observes more, and sees with knowing eyes. Life for her has taken dramatic turns, some would say tragic ones. But she withstands the endless torrential storm of life, and with great dignity. Who knew this "spoiled" little girl would be the one able to withstand the violence of the storm? God knew - he picked her. The great King David of old was one of those "spoiled" youngest children. God picked him too.
Sometimes I feel caught in the middle, invisible and surrounded by "greatness" - who wouldn't, with these people in my life? Attempting to live up to others' expectations has always been one of my weaknesses. In my ego, I always wanted to make them proud of me - to recognize and celebrate that I grew up to do something special too. I asked wrong questions: what have I done, what have I accomplished that makes me worthy to be part of this family? Why can't I be more like them - stronger, a better leader, more disciplined, more skilled, more successful, more confident of myself? Why does my path seem less worthy? Wrong questions, wrong assumptions. What I was searching for was love of the purest kind. Pride is not love - let me say that another way - Pride is not the same as love. Pure love can exist without pride - God deemed it so. Spoken from a father's perspective, I would add this: I am proud of all my children, but not always proud of decisions they have made, actions they have taken, or the way they have acted. I am proud of them because they are the fruit of my loins, because they are my children. Nothing more. Certainly they are all special and unique, certainly they have accomplished good things and take great pride in them, and certainly I enjoy their presence. But none of that is essential to my loving them. Further, their immaturity and bad decisions have disappointed me at times, yet I love them no less because of it. Such is God's love for His children, but infinitely more pure.
I think I have learned to stop trying to live up to other's expectation of me, but it is a daily battle for most of us. Freedom awaits those who can accomplish this feat. Freedom to live without jealousies, without regret, without fear of disappointing others. Love smothers fear - it literally suffocates it. Perfect love strangles fear completely - never to rise again. Perfect love is offered us - let us accept it through His Son. Like a loving father, nothing further is required of me to gain His perfect love, only this: to become His child. You must be born into His family - if you are, pride and fear vanish - all that is left is the warmth of His touch.
Life is not a Hollywood movie, it is not a Broadway play, it is not a bestselling novel. Life is more of a history book, full of stories of great victories and bitter defeats. Do not allow another to write your history book, take it with confidence as your own -confidence born from being an equal member of the greatest family.
I like being in the "middle" - it's a good place to be.
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