When All You Have Are Brothers

April 10 is National Siblings Day, which caused me to think back to my childhood years with my siblings. Sandwiched in between brothers, I’d always wanted a sister to stand strong with me against the two of them. But alas …

My brothers used to make fists with the middle knuckle sticking out a little further than the other knuckles. And then they’d pound on my arms. In defense, I sharpened my fingernails to points and left scratch marks when they came after me. I guess you could say I scarred my brothers for life.

Our parents both worked outside the home, so the afterschool hours were oftentimes a battlefield. But anything I did—even locking them out of the house—was in self-defense, and I’m pretty sure I never started any of those squabbles.

Our family believed in democracy, which only meant that the two of them always outvoted the one of me. Consequently, we watched more action, shoot-em-up television shows than cute girlish series.

As for my bedroom door, it’s a wonder it didn’t fall off its hinges from being slammed … but only when provoked by a brother. Or two. They knew which buttons to push, and apparently, I had a good slam arm.

But … these were the same brothers who taught me to climb a tree and climb the fence into the field behind our house. The same brothers who taught me how to play baseball, and how to ride a bike with no hands.

Fast forward to my senior year and to one night in particular: My family had all gone to bed. A boyfriend, who was breaking up with me, was driving an hour’s distance to retrieve the little diamond-studded promise ring he’d given to me a few months earlier.

It was late. And dark. I waited on the living room couch in tears. I finally crumpled down and laid my head on my arms.

To my surprise, my younger brother padded quietly down the hallway with a blanket that he spread over me. We didn’t exchange words, but this tenderness wasn’t something he’d ever shown before. And I was deeply touched.

There has been no slamming of doors or pounding on sisters for quite some time now. And even though we’re spread from Florida to Oregon, with Utah in between, we talk on the phone and keep up with each other’s kids and grands, travels and work.

There is a more recent and vivid memory of something very kind and sacrificing my brothers did on my behalf, which personifies this ancient proverb:

“A true friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need.” – Proverbs 17:17

The two of them discussed my situation behind my back and intervened. The situation involved our mother living with me as she was slipping further into Alzheimer’s while my husband was dealing with metastatic cancer. I needed to continue working because my job carried the health insurance we needed. It was much too much, but I had never mentioned this to either of my brothers.

On their own, they arranged for our mom to live near my older brother who visited her almost daily, and then eventually into my younger brother’s home where he worked out of a home office until she passed. Their intervention was timely and thoughtful. It lifted a significant load while I cared for my husband with late-stage disease.

I suppose my sibling story is similar to many. The squabbling. The competitions. The inclusions and exclusions. But this one thing I know for sure: National Siblings Day is a great reminder that I hit the jackpot with my two brothers.