"The average pencil is seven inches long...

...with just a half-inch eraser - in case you thought optimism was
dead." ~Robert Brault

Yesterday in a staff meeting I made a “speaking those things that are not as if they were” kind of comment and referred to myself as choosing optimism. Someone in the meeting said, “yeah, well, it just comes off as sarcasm.” I assured him this was only because he knew me so well. If he didn’t know me, my optimism would have been believable. Okay, maybe not… but humor me. See, there’s the optimism again.

Truly, I’m not as jaded as I sometimes appear. Still, I’m more of a pragmatist than most of the people with which I surround myself. A happy accident? I think not. Because I’m neither a “glass half full” or “glass half empty” sort of guy (I’m more of a “the glass is in a state of unhealthy compromise, much like the church at Laodicea[1]” guy), people often think I’m devoid of the ability to celebrate the little things in life. Not true. I just like to celebrate and then move on. I’m usually on to the next step before everyone else is done celebrating— sometimes before they even truly get started. I’m working on that one. But seriously, what's wrong with a little celebration "to go."

This past weekend was one such cause for celebration. Not a “little things in life” celebration. Actually, quite a big thing. One of my closest friends (consequently the last, long time, close, single, male friend I had) got married. It was, as they say, “the end of an era.” I had mixed emotions. But, the feeling that dominated was one of acceptance. (Is acceptance a feeling? Hmmm. That may be another blog post.)

I am the oldest of four children; three boys and a girl. My youngest brother died when I was eight years old. My other brother and my sister are three and a half and twelve years younger than me, respectively. I was a full time college student by the time my sister was starting first grade. I was married before she started jr. high. But my brother and I grew up together.

Even in a loving, stable home, same gender siblings close in age often seem to compete more than ally. As much as I love my brother and do have MANY things in common with him, and as much as we enjoyed playing with one another when we were young; as we grew older, we worked to separate ourselves from one another by capitalizing on and accentuating strengths not possessed by the other. While this did not pull us apart emotionally, it did lead to distinctly different approaches to life. Our bond is still and will always be fraternal, but, unfortunately, physical distance and very different lives keep us from being as close as either of us might like.

It seems all of the children in my family have chosen independence, each in distinctive ways. Independence is one of the values that attracted me to my wife. I believe the ability to carefully regard the feelings and values of others and yet make autonomous decisions is a mark of health and maturity. But, in its purist form, independence can be lonely. (By the way, I’m not a psychologist. I just play one on the internet.)

Among other things, I think a growing dissatisfaction (maybe disillusionment is a better word) with independence over the past few years, has helped me to recognize a deep need for covenant relationships bonded by something more than time, or blood, or proximity, or common goals/values.

My friend (the one who got married) is one of the people in my life with whom I feel that bond. And, while hanging out before and after the wedding with the other groomsmen (his older brother, his two lifelong childhood friends, and a mutual comrade), I realized something interesting. I watched these guys interact with him. I listened to their wedding toasts. I observed the way they spoke about him in our conversations, even when he wasn’t around. And, it occurred to me that we each felt that same special bond with him in one way or another.

So, my relationship with him was less unique than I had believed. But, at the same time, I was reminded (and encouraged) that I wasn’t the only one with this deep need for brotherhood—and that the connection I feel with him has as much to do with the exceptional way God has gifted him as it does my need. The net result: true belonging.

He reads this blog and, it occurs to me, this may all be news to him. He has often (even recently) commented that he believes he takes away much more from our friendship (specifically our conversations) than I possibly could. While the odds may favor me for obscenely tedious insight (we’ll be “optimistic” and call it wisdom… yeah, that’s it… [ahem] wisdom), on this point, when it counts, he’s no slouch. Regardless, he brings to my life something I consider much more valuable—genuine love, respect without reservation, unadulterated camaraderie, care that goes below the surface, passionate and authentic spirituality… brotherhood.

And he is not the only one. I am truly blessed—between my wife, my children, my family and friends, I am rich in the love and support necessary for abundant living. And that gives cause to stop and celebrate—the "dine-in" not the "carry-out" kind of celebration. Dear reader, I wish you may have and take the same occasion in your life.


Footnote

1. "To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: ...I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth." - Revelation 3:14a, 15-16 [HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society.]