Category: Get To Know __________, They Make Life Better

 And now, for the one who made me a middle child. You know I’d love to stay here and brood on that for a while, but many of you seem to find my birth order bitterness to be distasteful. I’ve been chewing that middle child resentment cud for almost 40 years and I find it delicious.

In truth, as you take in the views of these wonderful people with whom I share roots, you’ll quickly realize I have no grounds for resentment.

If you’ve been following this Aspen Grove of mine, you’ll remember Adam. Adam Robert Hershey, the one who scarcely escaped the Butt-First Bandit attack. If you’re not familiar, go read the post about Julie.

So far I’ve been able to pin up a metaphor to represent each individual from my perspective: Sarah—an African Violet, Wes—a lighthouse, Julie—a solar lamp.

But is there an adequate metaphor for my younger brother? 

Adam’s like Swedish infrastructure, he’s sound and efficient. No, that’s too much high-brow sophistication for Adam. 

Let me try again. Adam is a precise accounting ledger, stable and reliable. No, he’s not that boring.

He’s a tie clip, he’s put together and timeless. I can’t use this one, Adam has way too many tank tops in his wardrobe to be considered classic and timeless.

Adam’s a bridge. Yes this is the one. Adam is a bridge. But a bridge with contemporary architecture. Yes, and the bridge fulfills its purpose well because it connects a wide variety of people. Oh, and the bridge is never down for construction or maintenance, it just quietly does what it is supposed to. This bridge has the perfect amount of clear signage that helps you get exactly where you’re going. The traffic pattern is so safe and comfortable. And lastly, this bridge just wants you to enjoy your journey. It’s not trying to rack up all the bridge accolades, it doesn’t need to be known as the longest or the oldest. It doesn’t want you making a big deal about it; we can just agree it’s the best bridge! 

It’s humbling when as the older brother, I realize my younger brother carries more of the wise and leading “older brother” persona than I do.

For example:

I had just received a huge styrofoam airplane for my 12th birthday. You could throw it and it would glide for days. Adam and I ran out to the front yard and were enjoying launching it to each other across the property. One thing styrofoam doesn’t handle well is wind. I threw it to Adam, a gust of wind sent it abruptly off course and directly in the path of a huge truck, barreling down the street at 55 mph. It was one of those jacked up trucks with six wheels. You know the ones, where your sleeves must be cut off your shirt in order to drive it.

This truck obliterated my plane and threw styrofoam everywhere, like we were inside a shaken snow globe. For some reason, my initial response was fear. I ran inside and locked myself in my room. I was scared this sleeveless, cornfed monster of man was going to come after the owner of that styrofoam plane. The worst part is that I encouraged my little brother to follow me in my fear. Adam’s cautious, but not irrationally. If it wasn’t for me he probably wouldn’t have fled from conflict. He wouldn’t have made assumptions about someone based on the car they drive, although I’m fairly certain this trucker owner’s arms have never been covered by sleeves. That truck driver never did come hunt me down. And thankfully, Adam never did learn my example of cowering.   

Similar to him being a bridge over unpassable land, Adam is a “Get-To” Guy. He sees opportunity in everything and rarely acts out of obligation with a “have-to” attitude. Let me provide some examples of how Adam has done this through his life.

“I get to save money and set up my future by earning credits at a community college before going off to a university.”

“I get to antagonize my older siblings.”

“I get to build relationships and support my coworkers.”

“I get to coach my son’s soccer team when no other parents offered.”

“I get to protect and provide for my family.”

This attitude of gratitude is why I’ve never seen Adam overtaken by life’s circumstances or even having the slightest experience of defeat. 

He’s always been interested in family history and has been quick to ask parents and grandparents questions about their life. Adam’s always been intrigued by how our ancestors have dealt with their trials and difficulties. There’s a study that’s shown a strong correlation between a child’s understanding of their family history and that person’s emotional well-being.

Sometimes, if you’re extremely fortunate, you’re blessed with a younger sibling that becomes a model and example for his elder. Thanks Adam, you make my life better! 

My brother, early in his teenage years, sat comfortably in the living room. On this dark evening he thought he was nestled in the safe and secure confines of our home. He had a view of both the front door and back sliding glass door. He assumed they were locked. His misperceived safety led to what would become the most threatening encounter ever to be experienced inside that home.

As my brother sat diligently focused on the homework in his lap, the backdoor slowly slid open without a sound. Not so silently, a figure broke through the shadows of the open door. The intruder came through backwards, intentionally hiding their identity. The helpless teenage boy let out an audible gasp of desperation. His schoolwork tumbled to the floor as his body collapsed submitting to the overwhelming fear.

The invader fully breached the home’s boundary with adrenaline filled breathing. At this moment my brother realized the burglar or murderer (who could know their intent) was not alone. This unscrupulous person continued laboriously backward toward this helpless boy. 

In an attempt to eliminate confusion, my brother’s full name is Adam Robert Hershey. The uninvited visitor turned around and Adam Robert Hershey was now face-to-face with his fate. Completely through the shadows and in plain view, now stood his older sister Julie and the big potted plant she pulled in from the deck, protecting it from the nearing frost. Adam was relieved, but mostly embarrassed to discover the threatening “Butt-First Bandit” was his harmless sister.

The reason I still laugh about this story is because my sister, Julie, could not be less threatening. Adam’s experience is a stark contradiction to the experience anyone has had interacting with Julie. She makes life better!

Julie continues to be the rare combination of smart and wise. She’s quick to think, analyze and consider. She’s slow to judge and critique. I consider myself a thinker like my sister, but she’s much better at it. I’ve seen her grow and learn from experiences without feeling a need to prove it to anyone. My approach is much different. I’ll let you know if I’ve learned something that you might find impressive—hence this 10 year old blog.

Legend has it that one of Julie’s first words was “calculator”. Well, she is the first born, and my parents tracked her every move, so that’s more likely fact than legend. I love this tidbit about her because the things she does go through careful calculation and discernment. Her baking follows the same rules, which is another major way she makes my life better! Those New Year’s Day brunches are a can’t miss, even if you’re sleepless and hungover. The only thing that goes against this standard of calculation is her choice of futbol fandom. She’s a Tottenham supporter and I can’t figure out why. I’ve read once that Tottenham fans have the ability to love well without expecting love in return. In this sample size of one, I’d say that’s true. 

She’s reliable and trustworthy with an unshakeable moral compass. We went to Sesame Place Themepark and my parents quietly asked Julie to tell the ride attendants that she was a year younger than her real age, allowing her to go on all the rides with Adam and me. I have to think this white lie still haunts her. Her loyalty was challenged by Sesame Street in another way too. Julie has always been a girl excited to read and learn. Sesame Street put out a book starring Grover titled There’s a Monster at the End of This Book. Every page brings Grover pleading with the reader, stacking bricks, playing clever mind games, doing whatever it takes to get the reader not to turn another page. This had to be a monumental inner struggle for Julie. I’d like to think she was never able to finish that book. Spoiler Alert: I’m here to tell you Julie, it turns out Grover is the Monster at the end of the book.   

I love my sister. That is all. Not, I love Julie because everyone’s supposed to love their sister. Or, I love my sister, but…

Just, I love my sister because she makes life better 

This is a toughie due to the many potential pitfalls. I’m a dad on a bragging broadcast about my son—bad look. I’m a dad publicly boasting about my preteen, self-conscious kid—the worst look for a middle schooler. But, I have to tell you about this sapling in my Aspen Grove that adds vitality, vigor, and worth to my days! So here’s my solution: I’m sticking to the prompt, “Get to know Wes, he makes life better.” I’m simply sharing what I’ve learned from this boy, and Wes gets to continue his life in middle school with minimal embarrassment and a mostly intact reputation. Unfortunately he has a dad writing a blog about him. Of course some embarrassment will ensue.

I’ve learned to laugh at anything! I didn’t need much help with this. I think a lot of things are funny, but Wes has helped me realize that everything can be funny. He can’t help but fall into laughter when we joke him out of a grumpy mood. I love the unstifled laugh, the can’t catch your breath laugh, bent over, stumbling around laughter.

“What’s so funny, Wes?”

All you get in response is a squinting, teary eyed shake of the head—unable to even spit out a single sound. If you raise your nose above potty humor and private parts jokes, we’ll just assume you’re trying to sniff a fart.

Wes continues to teach me that being empathetic is costly, but worth it. He’s shown me that exercising empathy is to live a rich life. 

As a Cleveland Browns fan, I live by the motto misery loves company. So I had a hard time processing the exchange when Wes said to me, “I want the Bengals to win this playoff game and go to the Super Bowl because that would make Uncle Ryan and Cole (his cousin) happy.” Here’s what would make me happy: the Bengals lose, so at the next family get together I’m not the only one sulking about my terrible NFL team. Don’t worry, Wes is still working on me.

How about the painful side of empathy? So many times Wes has witnessed someone being mistreated. He’ll come home devastated by the injustice, hurting with the victim and dumbfounded by the offender. Connecting with others on such a deep level is exhausting, but rich. The other two people I live with have empathy endurance. I can 50 yard dash empathy with the best of them: “Sorry things suck for you, I know how it feels.” Yada, yada, yada, “I gotta go.” My tendency is to flee from others in trouble or conflict. Through his example, Wes continues to show me how to stick around for others in need. Wes excels at the immeasurables and I find such joy in it.

I’m quick to associate youth behavior with stupidity and recklessness, but what if I allow Wes and those his age to open my eyes to God’s splendor. Being a teacher, I’ve been trained to intervene and make use of every possible teachable moment. Do you know how many teachable encounters I have each day? I’m with middle schoolers—at work and at home. The teachable moments are endless! 

But God has recently been teaching me to lay off. He’s been telling me, “I don’t need you to stand in for me constantly, wagging your finger while instructing Wes how to live.” No one wants to follow that. Instead, I’m going to follow the advice author John Green received while he was serving as a hospital chaplain, “don’t just do something. Stand there.” 

That’s what I get to do; I stand here and watch Wes live. If he needs me, I’m standing here, and he knows that. And when he doesn’t need me I’m standing here, and believe me, he knows that too! God’s beginning to get his message through to me. I’m not charged with fixing this world for Wes. 

What a blessing, to see a sapling rise and expand in my Aspen Grove! 

Do your life a favor and marry a therapist. Not just any therapist, preferably a counselor who passionately desires to make the lives around them better. 

My wife, Sarah, is intentional about progress. Progress in love, contentment, faith, healing, and restoration. She’s passionate about journeying everyday life with her husband, so much so that he becomes an exceedingly better human each day. I’m not sure if compound interest applies to positive relationship experiences, but even if it doesn’t, I’m minimally about 6,400 times better because of my wife—assuming 1x for each day we’ve been together.

Case in point:

Sarah encouraged me to take our son on a brunch date on a day we’d be home while she was working. I truly believe that some of the most exciting decisions I’ve made in life are about food, and today we were quick to choose First Watch, a favorite diner of ours. Wes and I rarely spoil an opportunity to eat out. We made sure not to eat anything all morning and when we finally got out the door at 10:30 our bellies were rumbling. We weaved through the lobby crowd and approached the hostess to get the news we’d suspected. “It’ll be about 45 minutes.”

We checked out nearby restaurants, but ultimately decided that First Watch was worth starving for. Finally after the hostess’s surprisingly accurate wait-time prediction, I received a text stating our table was ready. I noticed I was irritable and anxious as we entered the restaurant. People were in our way and my son wasn’t being assertive enough. I opened doors and pushed through the crowd. We sat. Our waters, juice, and coffee arrived. With it also came reflection and self-awareness. Being hungry was not an excuse for being a jerk. 

I apologized to Wes for treating him harshly as we entered the First Watch lobby and told him how thankful I was that his mom had taught us to recognize our feelings, accept them, sit with them, and move forward with them.

This is a short and simple snapshot of Sarah’s impact on me. 

Without 6,400 hundred days spent with my loving partner, who knows what irrational response Hanger would have festered that day. I’m fairly certain it would have been internalized frustration and anger, blaming all of the circumstances we had no control over that day. Maybe I would have even blamed Sarah for suggesting we go out to eat for brunch on a holiday. How dare she suggest such a thing! 

You see, Sarah keeps making my life better.

Sarah safeguards our marriage, relentlessly. Good partners ask tough questions. Like just yesterday over dinner she asked me, “How would you define passion?” Then she followed it up with, “So what are you currently passionate about?” 

Unfortunately she’s married to a man whose response was, “Depending on your definition, I’m not sure I am passionate about anything.”

It’s remarkable that Sarah can ask peeling questions and also be so easy to be with. She prompts us to go to bed early, so we can simply read our books side by side. We take a lot of walks through the neighborhood together, so much so that neighbors joke that we record a street blotter.  

The words on this screen don’t do her justice, so If you ever get the chance, ask Sarah what she thinks of the weather. You won’t end up talking about the weather and you’ll be thankful for the dreary winter day that gave you a life changing conversation starter.

(For the record, I did not write this in hopes that Sarah will approve my purchase of a new golf club. Although if this piece does produce a driver or putter, every look at that new golf club would be a testament to the abundant ways she makes my life better!) 😉