Now There's A Brother "Over There"

He was so tiny. I don't remember, I just see a picture in my baby book-- my little golden head leaning over a new baby. "Tiny hands! Tiny feet!" Even to a little two year old, he seemed tiny. My own little "Bax" (a two-year old's attempt at saying "Baby Alex").

Then there were the matching shorts and jumpers. My mom seemed to love dressing us in matching patterns. Bax inevitably wore suspenders. And he couldn't figure out how to smile. His eyes would scrunch up, his chin would stick out, and he "ruined" every picture. As a five year old, I tried to teach him. But he wasn't good at listening. We played together for hours. I wanted a sister, so I'd beg him to dress up in my dresses. He would. He would even talk in a high, squeaky "girl voice."

When Trevor came along, I lost my best friend. Alex was so relieved to not have to dress up in ruffles and play princess. He and Trevor built forts, made crazy hats out of buckets, and besieged me as I holed up in my little log cabin. Of course, there were the joint ventures: when I tried to sail down the creek on a raft (Alex told me that it would sink--I just thought he was squelching adventure), or when I convinced them both to donate their Christmas money to buy an American Girl doll (Mom found out about that one).

As we grew older, our lives grew in parallels. We lived together for two years in college--two crazy, full, workaholic years. I watched my brother make bad decisions, and then change. He watched me walk off several cliffs, and the grace which brought me back to solid ground. We know each others' foibles. He knows my quirks, habits, and faults. I know his idiosyncrasies, opinions, and interests.

He watched me marry the man of my dreams.
I watched him marry the princess he wanted to protect.

Alexander Joseph Blake.

2nd Lieutenant in the Army of the United States of America.

Today I hugged my playmate, roommate, brother, friend goodbye.

Afghanistan doesn't know what it's getting. My brother is off on another great adventure. I'm delighted in his bravery, terrified by his lack of fear, and convinced that God's plan for my brother has not changed, regardless of his location. My brother rests safely in Afghanistan, protected by the God of the universe, the same God who protected him in his tree-climbing, rock-jumping, fort-besieging childhood.

Please come home soon.

"So prepare, say a prayer, send the word, send the word to be-ware
We'll be over, we're coming over,
And we won't come back 'til it's over Over There!"*

I love you, Bax.

Alex's commissioning. December 2010.

*"Over There"
by George M. Cohan
Copyright © 1917 by Leo. Feist, Inc., New York