My Little Brother

When he was a kid, Ryan was chubby and shy. He liked Kix cereal with no milk and chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce. If it weren’t for Mom, he would have eaten those foods—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—for the rest of his life. Unlike me, the child who would run off with any stranger who smiled, Ryan only trusted a few special people. He liked our immediate family, the neighbor boy, Sam, and the checkout lady at the grocery store who he insisted on calling “Grandma.”

When he was eight, Mom let him start taking violin lessons. In middle school he started taking guitar lessons. He practiced diligently and would accept nothing less than perfection from either of his instruments, a testament to both his determination and patience. His music gave him confidence, but not arrogance. Over time, his shyness disappeared completely. (Now, we can’t get him to stop talking!)

He graduated Salutatorian in high school, delivering an honest and humble speech. And although he is incredibly intelligent, Ryan isn’t one of those obnoxious students who get an A without any effort—he studied hard for his special spot on that graduation stage. But he would never tell you how smart he is. He isn’t proud, at least, not that kind of proud.

Smart and artistic, Ryan played almost every sport—football, soccer, basketball, and baseball. His baby cheeks were long gone. In high school, he dedicated himself to running and lifting to prepare for the baseball season—the sport he loved most. But he wasn’t an attention-starved-athlete. He cared deeply for people. I’ll never forget his freshman year when he went to basketball camp and conditioned with the team for months during the summer. Then, right as the season was about to begin, he made the difficult choice to leave the team. The coach begged him to stay, but Ryan had made his decision. He wanted to have more time to serve with the kids’ ministry at church.

Serving others has become a passion in Ryan’s life. I was reminded of this when I called to wish him Happy Birthday today. He is nineteen. I chatted with him from my Indiana Wesleyan apartment, while his voice echoed from his Spring Arbor stairwell. (I wish we weren’t so far apart.) I asked him about his presents. He told me that he was programming his new ipod Touch. I assumed it was the one he had been saving up for during the past several months. But Ryan explained that when the earthquake tore apart Haiti, he didn’t feel right about buying such an expensive item for himself. He gave all of his savings to disaster relief, instead. He went on to explain that after he had given the money away, he received his present from Mom and Dad—an ipod Touch, a complete surprise to Ryan. They bought it for him weeks before the earthquake.

I told Ryan that I was proud of him for sacrificing his hard-earned money for people he had never even met. But he shrugged it off. In his mind, it was just a small thing. He was just doing his part. (He’s probably embarrassed that I am even telling this story, but I don’t care. I want to brag about my brother. I told you, he’s humble.)

Ryan is currently studying Youth Ministry and Psychology at Spring Arbor University. He wants to help others for the rest of his life, and I know he will. I couldn’t be more proud of my brother and the man that he has become. It is clear that God is at the center of everything he does. He might be younger than me, but I look up to him in many ways (and not just because he is a foot taller than me.) I love you, Buddy. Happy Birthday. I’m so glad you’re my little brother.