Brotherly Love

I had always wanted a brother growing up.  My older sister and I never really did well to get along with one another and I always thought if I had had a brother things would have been different, I would have been protected.  This may or may not have been the case but eventually I did get a little brother.

I was 17 when he was born, and didn't get a chance to appreciate him as much.  Now that I am (temporarily) back home, there has been a rare second chance to know both him and my younger sister.  My sister just turned 16 and is right in the middle of her teen years when friends, sports, and school work keep her pretty busy.  She and I will grow to know one another better in her adult years I am sure.  Jesse, my brother, on the other hand, is home much of the time and I have learned to appreciate who he is growing to be.  He has impressed me multiple times and I walk away from him awestruck at his heart.  It is always in a very Jesse way that he shows love.

Tonight, as he watched me drag myself to the dinner table, he noticed puffy eyes that were glazed over.  I had a rough afternoon and evening after a difficult letter and it was evident from my swollen eyes, and red cheeks I was not well.  Jesse's eyes couldn't pull away from my face until he asked if I was sick, "No" I said, do you have a sore throat?, "No" I said again.  At this point, my mom chimed in "Her heart is sick." After a moment or two Jesse spoke again, "Do you want soup?" This was him offering to make it for me.  A little man who desired to fix something... to make it better.    

Kindness.  That's what this was.

Though he does not know the depths of the pain I am enduring he is content not knowing and it does not affect his kindness toward me.  There is not an equation that tells how much or how little pain, or if it even merits an act of kindness, he just knows something is wrong and he wants to help.  May he always have this softness toward those in pain.