The Brave One
My sister is my hero.
This wasn't always the case. Growing up, the mere 21 months between our ages was a catalyst for fights of the worst kind. And as the firstborn that I am, my way of handling fights with my sister was to wield an iron fist of adolescent bossiness. We used to spend a lot of time acting out made-up stories in our backyard, and she was always forced to assume the role of errand-runner and stick/leaf/flower-gatherer. She was the best helper. At the time I didn't realize our way of relating said a lot more about her character than it did my leadership skills.
A lot of people look at me as the brave one in our family. I have an ambitious disposition and like to blaze my own trail. Academics are where I feel at home, so getting the degrees and accomplishments is life-giving for me. I also have this love of travel that gives everyone the impression I'm fearless. And in a lot of ways, I am. The Lord has blessed (or cursed?) me with an ability to reason my way out of fear and embrace adventure on my own.
But Morgan is fearless in a totally subversive way. Under the radar, she never lets the opinions of others or the mandates of this world have a hold on her. She lives in the moment, and she makes art, and she never lets anyone stop her from seeing the world as beautiful.
I think a stubborn resolve to see the world as beautiful, no matter what, is the bravest thing there is.
I ride (safe) road bikes for the sake of competition; she rides mountain bikes for the sake of danger. I run races for the challenge and the podiums; she runs to get dirty. I create art through words on a tame computer screen; she gets out in the world with messy paintbrushes. When someone calls me at 3:00 in the morning for help, I analyze the ethics of their behavior to determine if they deserve my help; Morgan spends her whole week, bank account, energy, and resources pouring into their life.
The truth is, our parents raised all four of us to be brave. But Morgan's courage shines on the days when the rest of us are crippled with fear, calculating our next move. She doesn't have to make a plan before she's brave for the sake of others. She's the one who rides a bike off a cliff because she can say to the Lord, "I'm yours to take." She's a helper and a risker. And she makes me want to be brave.
This wasn't always the case. Growing up, the mere 21 months between our ages was a catalyst for fights of the worst kind. And as the firstborn that I am, my way of handling fights with my sister was to wield an iron fist of adolescent bossiness. We used to spend a lot of time acting out made-up stories in our backyard, and she was always forced to assume the role of errand-runner and stick/leaf/flower-gatherer. She was the best helper. At the time I didn't realize our way of relating said a lot more about her character than it did my leadership skills.
A lot of people look at me as the brave one in our family. I have an ambitious disposition and like to blaze my own trail. Academics are where I feel at home, so getting the degrees and accomplishments is life-giving for me. I also have this love of travel that gives everyone the impression I'm fearless. And in a lot of ways, I am. The Lord has blessed (or cursed?) me with an ability to reason my way out of fear and embrace adventure on my own.
But Morgan is fearless in a totally subversive way. Under the radar, she never lets the opinions of others or the mandates of this world have a hold on her. She lives in the moment, and she makes art, and she never lets anyone stop her from seeing the world as beautiful.
I think a stubborn resolve to see the world as beautiful, no matter what, is the bravest thing there is.
I ride (safe) road bikes for the sake of competition; she rides mountain bikes for the sake of danger. I run races for the challenge and the podiums; she runs to get dirty. I create art through words on a tame computer screen; she gets out in the world with messy paintbrushes. When someone calls me at 3:00 in the morning for help, I analyze the ethics of their behavior to determine if they deserve my help; Morgan spends her whole week, bank account, energy, and resources pouring into their life.
The truth is, our parents raised all four of us to be brave. But Morgan's courage shines on the days when the rest of us are crippled with fear, calculating our next move. She doesn't have to make a plan before she's brave for the sake of others. She's the one who rides a bike off a cliff because she can say to the Lord, "I'm yours to take." She's a helper and a risker. And she makes me want to be brave.
I love you so much Jo Jo!! You have no idea how much this means to me :)
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