Saturday, my little brother turned 18. I’ve been a big sister for 18 years to that crazy kid. It’s hard for this big sister to believe.
My earliest memories with my brother involve him crying, cuddling, playing & laughing. I loved having a little shadow that followed me around the house; his little feet shuffling on the living room carpet. His little hands reaching up when he wanted to be held. His little laughter when sissy would say something silly or make a crazy face. Watching little sibling grow brings such joy.
And grow he has.
Adam surpassed me in height when he was 13. I was 17 and not impressed that my little brother was bigger than me. And I wasn’t so impressed when the girls at church starting crushing on my brother. (Sorry y’all, no hard feelings)
As he has grown physically, he’s also grown mentally & spiritually. He’s learned so much from my grandpa about being a spiritual leader and not a follower. He’s grown mentally in ways that sometimes attribute him to being much older than he is. I have always been impressed with one of my brother’s qualities: he thinks for himself. This is one quality that most teenagers don’t possess, in my opinion. I’m thankful that my brother is smart enough to make his own opinions and judgments in certain situations, and I’m thankful he has his priorities straight.
For years, my brother has wanted a tattoo. He always claimed it wasn’t for show- he wanted something that symbolized he was different from the sinful world we live in.
For years, my family has debated with him, convincing him to wait until he was 18 and until he knew for sure that he wanted that permanent ink on his body.
For years, Adam had patiently waited… until Saturday.
When he finally woke up around noon, all he could talk about was getting a tattoo. We even cancelled our plans for indoor skydiving to cater to his wants for the day! The one thing he wanted was a tattoo. And after my mom asked him some questions about his intentions, the purpose of a tattoo, etc. the four of us were in the car heading to the tattoo parlor.
Talk about a first for my family!
Bro and Mom talked to the tattoo artist and picked out a font. He drew up a price. Bro’s girlfriend showed up and was clearly freaking out that her boyfriend was about to get a tattoo. Momma was nervous about it too, and only went back to the room long enough to see what it was going to look like. Dad was chill and sat in the lobby watching ESPN the whole time. I played the role of the cool big sister and watched & documented the whole thing 🙂 And I used the nifty hashtag #lilbroturns18 to document/comment on the days adventures.
Saturday, my little brother turned 18 and got a tattoo. It almost seems unreal to me, although I knew it would happen eventually. While I can’t say that I’m thrilled my brother got a tattoo, I can say that I’m proud of what it means and the stance he’s taken behind it.
PS: Don’t tell my grandpa about the tattoo! Bro plans on doing so tomorrow 🙂
The mini-meaning behind “Chosen” as told by my 18-year old brother: “It started when I was in Peru. We were in those small villages where people had hardly anything, and it really hit me that I was Chosen. God chose me to live where I live, to have the family that I have, and to grow up in a place where I learned about Him. I was Chosen to live out His will for my life. Ever since then, I knew that I wanted Chosen permanently on my body as a reminder that He chose me and that I need to live like I’m Chosen, and not like the world.”
2 Thessalonians 2:13-15 “But we should always give thanks to God for you, brethren beloved by the Lord, because God has chosen you from the beginning for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and faith in the truth. And it was for this that He called you through our gospel that you may gain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. So then, brethren, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions which you were taught, whether by word of mouth or by letter from us.”