Today is my brother's 22nd birthday and I feel like delighting in him today. So...

I love that he's a 6' 5" hulk of a football player yet I still get to call him my "little brother". I like how he tries to keep his face stoic most of the time and not show his reactions to things, because that makes it all the sweeter when  you're actually able to draw a smile out. When that happens, it's because he simply can't help it, and it's awesome. Similarly,  it's challenging to make him laugh sometimes, but when he does... it's the purest little-boy sort of laugh that just bubbles out of him, completely genuine. I love how he is extremely practical and known for it. I love how he's so tough and manly and only cares about what the important people in his life think, and then only in appropriate measure. As a whimpy wants-to-please-everyone girl, I really respect that. He's got backbone.

I love how smart he is. He is really, really smart. And I love having conversations with him about higher forms of math and physics. It's like if I were to sit for an hour listening to someone speak in French, and then they revert to English and say "does that make sense to you?", and I say "No, I'm just completely mesmerized by your accent". I don't have a clue what he's talking about half the time--no, 99% of the time--but he's enthusiastic about it and it sounds really smart and I like it.

I like how he listens to Taylor Swift. Seriously. I was flabbergasted when I discovered this. It was so humorous to me. But he doesn't just download her songs, he buys the CDs! And he can sing with them, too, not goofing-around singing but actually-enjoying-the-music singing. If you ever hear me humming one of Taylor's songs, it's all his fault. I couldn't stand the stuff until I got the songs stuck in my head thanks to him.

I like how Daniel is good at solving problems. He always comes up with these amazing solutions I would never come up with. Once I bought a cheapy dollar store flashlight for a camping trip and it didn't work because the battery coils were a smidgeon too long for the double a's it was supposed to take. Daniel took a piece a tiny piece of tin foil and folded it over a few times and wedged it in there, and presto--I had a working flashlight.

I love being surprised by Daniel's soft heart. There is a verse in Proverbs that says "There are three things that are too amazing for me, four that I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a maiden." It is the latter that I don't understand. I had stereotyped Daniel in his brother role and didn't have a clue about the romantic heart underneath. Then one day I found out he sent a certain person a beautiful puzzle which he had assembled, then written a special message on in sharpie, then disassembled and mailed to her. How clever and sweet! How did he even come up with the idea? In that relationship I saw a very gentle side of my brother that had completely escaped me before. It did not end well, but the pain my brother went through drew me closer to him in heart and made me admire him so much more.

But his softy heart certainly doesn't stop him from being painfully logical with his family, Mom in particular. His logic is brutal. I don't see his gentleness so much then in all their little debates, but I admire the way his mind works.

One final thing to close with. I love my brother's integrity and honor. He is extremely truthful and extremely trustworthy. He's incredibly reliable! So much so, I think I could venture to say that he is the most reliable person I know. He sticks to his word. Furthermore, he is an exceptionally hard worker and gives his all to whatever he does. I am so proud of my brother, and I love him so much.

It just dawned on me that I really need to tell him this myself. I need to tell him what I wrote here. I'm a little shy to do so, perhaps in part because of his shyness and I think it might make him uncomfortable. Certain kinds of tough men don't like to ooze emotion. But too bad. I'm going to say it.

Yesterday afternoon Katie made an off-hand comment that I should be a caterer, and I should hire her. Not the the first time someone has planted the idea in my mind, and typically I accept it as a compliment rather than a suggestion and move on. However, for some reason the idea germinated this time I spent so much time scheming and dreaming while I pulled weeds in the front yard. While my fingers were pinching weeds out from the decorative gravel, my mind was blossoming with ideas. It went something like this...I'd need a business license, of course--how much did those cost again? Would any church in the area allow me to use their commercial kitchen, because of course a home one wouldn't be legal. What about a name... something that captures the type of catering I want to do, with my fancy little garnishes and carrot peels twirled into roses sort of things... I know! The Mint Leaf Catering Company. That sounds perfect. And a friend could design me business cards with some sort of fancy yet simple mint leaf logo. And I'd have to find who was a skilled photographer and ask them to take prettily posed pictures of the appetizers and desserts I'd offer. I can see the website now... with gorgeous photos of cucumber sandwiches tried up like presents with strings of chives, and foamy little individual merangues like creamy clouds edged in golden brown, and my mini cheesecakes with the lemon garnish flowers... but I can't forget actual meal things. How about the scrumptious macaroni and cheese my mom made? It couldn't be called mac 'n cheese, though, that isn't elegant at all. How about Creamy Elbow Pasta with Gruyere, Aged White Cheddar, and Romono Cheeses? People might pay money for that. And I'd have to write a neat little description of it that sounds irresistable. Hmm, I'd probably need to do some pro-bono work when I'm first getting started just to get my name out there. I wouldn't mind that at all, but I'd probably make myself go broke. I could always pay for an ad in a newspaper or that local magazine... or what about something more targeted? Something for brides-to-be, somewhere hostesses would see it...

On and on I kept brainstorming ideas and keeping track of the logistics. I love this kind of stuff. Absolutely love it. Am I serious about starting my own catering company? Not really. It would cost way too much. But I'm having so much fun just planning it I might as well keep fantasizing. Maybe someday...

Then, this morning, when I was praying, my mind got sidetracked out of the blue thinking about hiking the Appalacian Trail. After hiking a tiny piece of it with Bek last summer and catching glimpses of authentic trail hikers with their unshaven, smelly bodies and huge calves, my imagination was sparked. Not by the unshaveness, but the general adventure of it all. Although, I can't actually say I would mind not shaving my legs for a few months... ahem, anyway, I happened to watch Dual Survival with my dad a couple sundays ago and the two guys were on the appalachian trail and it resparked my imagination. I think it would be so cool to actually prove to myself that I could do something like that... so I started to determine how many lara bars I should pack in my massive backpack until I shoke myself back to the present and remembered I had been trying to pray.

The other day, for the first time, I shared with a friend my dream to own an assisted living facility someday, and how I'd collect recipes from the residents' families so I could cycle through them and cook these dear people real, tasty, comforting food. And there would be pets for them to care for, and programs for children and adults to participate in together, and a beautiful, exquisite, lush garden to inspire the soul, and something they could care for too by watering it. And I'd find all these little charities they could help out with so they could give back to the community, even if it was just folding newsletters and sticking them in envelopes or knitting blankets for a crisis pregnancy center or packaging some something or other. And maybe we could start a pen pal program and they could write or dictate letters to orphans feeling starved for love. And maybe we could start some type of mentorship program... oh, I have ideas!

And I haven't even shared my dreams for growing my own orchard and having my own farm with chickens and cows, or working in an orphanage overseas as an on-site "mom", or writing a bestselling novel or work of nonfiction, or becoming a counsellor, or becoming a certified nutritionist and using that somehow overseas, or... etc. Honestly, so many of my dreams don't even mesh.

Well, the one good thing about having so many is that it boosts the odds of at least ONE of them coming true. So I supposed I'll just keep dreaming.

If you actually read through this whole post... wow.

I took the risk. I timidly, fearfully dared to be vulnerable.

And now, my fears are realized.

Choking for breath as the tears roll down.

But would I take it back if I could? No. No, I wouldn't. I would do it again.

The hardest part is to keep this fragile thing fragile and vulnerable, not to clam up and box myself away in bitterness. There is beauty in enduring the hurt, rather than running.