I do not recall what the fight was over, only that our parents were gone and that it had escalated to where my little brother Daniel and I were furiously throwing small objects at each other. He was within my arms’ reach when he threw the eraser block and hit me just above the eye. My response was vicious. Before I could realize that I had picked my brother up, I had already slammed him onto the floor. I was terrified. As the haze of adrenaline melted away, I could not recall plucking him from the ground—but I my screaming senses could not help but recall the exertion with which I sent his prone body hurtling towards the floor. I collapsed to my knees next to him, crying his name. Daniel, Daniel…Daniel! Oh God why? As I turned him over, he moaned and began to regain consciousness, shivering from shock. I carried him to the couch, wrapped him in blankets, and called my parents. No, no, no! He had hit the thickly padded carpet with enough force to chip a tooth in half and cause minor head trauma. Minor, but I will always remember the terror. Later that day I walked out onto the deck with that eraser and threw it as hard as I could. I never saw it again.
How good and pleasant it is
when brothers live together in unity!
Psalm 133:1
I was probably around twelve or thirteen years old, which would have made him eight or nine, the day I challenged him to a long distance race. Needless to say, because of our age difference I always won sprints. However, physically outdoing my brother was not enough for me—I wanted to outsmart him as well. Already reveling in my victory, I challenged him to a race four times around our seven acre pasture. I added one stipulation: that we run in opposite directions. This way, I thought, he would not be able to tell exactly how far behind he was at any given time. I planned to alternate running and walking in order to conserve my energy, knowing that my brother—surely too young to grasp the concept of pacing—would be desperate to win and go all out. Once he lost wind in his valiant but naive effort, I would still have plenty in reserve and would be able to overlap him easily, dealing him a sound defeat. The race went well at first, but then things started to go wrong. He never stopped. Not once. By the second lap, I was falling far behind and my lungs were bursting in my chest, but when I looked across at him, watching desperately for any sign of tiring, all I could see was his thin little form jogging right along. I do not remember if he overlapped me or not, but my pride definitely suffered a most humiliating blow. I learned that day that my brother could run for a very, very long time, but I would not let go of my pride.
Be devoted to one another with brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Romans 12:10
Daniel and I started playing piano on the same day. Immediately, I shot ahead of him in the lesson books, devouring the songs one by one on the way to mastery while he plodded along slowly. I quickly got to the level that our teacher asked if I wanted to learn a real song—Für Elise. I was ecstatic. I proudly worked for months learning and perfecting that song, getting to the point where I could play it with such emotion and feeling that I sounded great. I then graduated from high school early and went straight into college, leaving my piano lessons by the wayside. I came back to our piano every once in a while to play my song, and critiqued (read criticized) my brother’s playing constantly. Somewhere along the line he had started to experiment with the piano, and it often sounded terrible. However, he continued plodding through his lessons and continued to experiment, spending hours and hours on the bench filling the house with music. He was terrible at practicing his assigned songs—he would begin the song, and then would invariably digress along a musical rabbit trail that would last for fifteen minutes, often driving me crazy. Then he started sounding good. He also started writing down his music. Not long after that, he graduated and began going to college, excelling in music and music composition classes.
Sitting in the college’s recital hall transfixed by my brother’s music coming from the mouths of piano, bass, viola, cello, violin, French horn, and trumpet, I cannot help but be awed. Every now and again I find myself on the piano bench when my brother is not around, looking at sheet music and trying to play it. It is futile. After a few petty attempts at Phantom of the Opera or a random hymn, I start to play my song, Für Elise. Something about watching my hands make music, dragging a nostalgic beauty from the past, from my muscles, from my mind, is soothing. It is a feeling that I never want to lose. Maybe one day I, too, will be able to create music like my little brother.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. I Corinthians 13:4- 7
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Philippians 2:3
I am again the young teenager kneeling by his brother moaning on the carpet. It is too late to take back what has happened, but it is never too late to start healing wounds. Daniel, I am sorry. There is no need for me to compare myself to you or for you to compare yourself with me. I want to take that eraser and throw it as hard as I can, and I never want to see it again. I see you, my brother—I see you, respect you, and love you.
