Brothers

  At church this morning I sat behind a cute family. There was a mom and three kids. I would guess the oldest son was about 8, a son who was 6 and girl who was 5. The little girl kept turning around and looking up at me. We made silly faces at each other. Then she started staring at me and it weirded me out, so I raised my bulletin up a little to block her line of sight.
   Anyway, that's not the point. This is the point...I watched the most interesting interaction between the brothers. The oldest kid, sitting between mom and the younger brother, left for a bit and while he was gone the younger brother slid over next to mom (by the way, she had great hair). Older brother comes back and stands at the end of the aisle for a moment assessing the situation. Think wild, wild west style. Just staring down a dusty road at an outlaw in his town. This business was not going to cut it. He walked over, pushed past baby bro and squeezed in between them pushing the kid to the left. The little brother tried to not move, but he was just too little.
    Watching the whole thing go down was fascinating and disturbing. It was such a blatant representation of life. One party weaseling their way into something they want and the other party bullying their way back into what they think is theirs. Neither considering the other person, just demanding their own way. Both wanted to be next to their mom and why wouldn't they-she loves them and people like to feel loved. But they failed to realize that they should love one another.
    This happens in our lives and the world around us all the time. We want our way. And it doesn't matter what someone else wants, we will demand our way. But like those boys, we forget that we are to love each other. Sure, whatever we have our eye on is probably a good thing, but we miss the point and miss out on full life if we aren't caring for others.
   But the big thing they both forgot is that their mom loves them. It didn't matter who was sitting directly next to her, she loves both of them. Neither has to fight for her love, they just are loved. And we forget that, too. It's not just that we don't care for our brother, but we fight for something that is already ours. And it is sure. It doesn't matter where we sit or what job we have or what our clothes look like or if we get our way. We are loved. We matter and that gives us our identity. But how often do we feel like we have to fight for our identity rather than just live in it?
   I sat in my chair this morning and thought for awhile about what it would have looked like for the older brother to come back, sit next his little brother and enjoy his whole family rather than pushing his little brother out. How wonderful and more fun for those boys to be part of something bigger than just themselves. I wonder what it would be like for us to take a deep breath and be a part of something bigger than just what our eyes desire.