So, the elder son snaps. Bottom line: he’s been doing all the work and his spoiled, rotten brat of a brother gets a party. Did I mention that the little rug rat spent a barn load of money, too?
I’ve got a little brother. He’s the baby of the family. Number four of four. He got everything sooner, bigger, and without consequence time and time again (or so I thought). TV in his room-with cable! Telephone-in his room...good grief, Charlie Brown. My parents must have been abducted by aliens.
The elder son needed what I like to call a “come to Jesus meeting”. The father was much kinder than I would have been. I might have started the conversation with a wallop across the noggin to get his brain refocused. Tell me you haven’t thought about it!!
I’ve had several “come to Jesus meetings” with my little brother. Turns out, being the baby of the family wasn’t all roses and parades. Who knew? He got lots of “you’re nothing like your brothers” and “your sister is so great” and “why aren’t you as studious as your siblings?” He struggled mightily to find his way in the world, and live up to everyone’s expectations based on the three kids who came before him.
My dad had a saying every time we would go out with my friends or on a date, “remember whose son you are.” That’s what the elder son needed to hear. It’s not about who does what or doesn’t do this or that. It’s about the Father. I have a much less compassionate phrase I’ve added to my dad’s saying...“get over yourself, and remember whose son you are!” OK, so I still have some work to do in the empathy department!
In the end, we all just needed to drop the comparison/contrast, get over ourselves, and pick up the cross of our big brother to carry for a while. I hope for his sake the elder son got it. I sure wish we had Paul Harvey to give us “the rest of the story!”
Jim Bales
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