the calm in my storm
Photo courtesy of Gratisography
Thursday, January 15th, 2025I’m out visiting my brother and his family this week. It’s cold and sunny here today—the kind of weather that makes this part of the country look better than it feels.
Every time I come to visit, I’m hit with a wave of gratitude that my brother is mine. I don’t know how I managed to get a brother like him. But I did. Lucky me.
He is incredibly patient and thoughtful. If I need a favor, he will go above and beyond to make it happen—from driving two states away to take me to IKEA, to sending me videos of rodent-infested schoolhouses at my request. He rarely asks anything in return.
I should make him some socks.
What strikes me most is how steady he is. As a father, he says yes as often as he can. His kids respect him and come to him for guidance. I love watching him with them—playing, joking, even disciplining. He stays level-headed in moments where I know I’d already be off my rocker.
That steadiness extends everywhere. He’s a kind, engaged partner to his wife, and together they make parenting look like a shared project instead of a tug-of-war. When one steps in, the other steps back. They argue, but fairly. They repair. The kids are watching all of this, soaking it in.
Oh, the things you don’t realize you’re learning as a child.
Their home reflects that same care. It’s welcoming and lived-in, never precious. My brother’s handiwork is everywhere—he finished the basement, added a bathroom, built key pieces of furniture, and created the back deck with space designed for gathering around the fire pit for Peep S’Mores. Their door is always open. Especially to me.
Looking around the house—NOT snooping, just observing without too much touching—I notice books on leadership, lists for personal development, a tiny book filled with his personal recipes. Being here makes it clear that none of this happened by accident. It feels like my brother is giving his kids what he once wanted himself: stability. Presence. Patience. Choice. Connection.
He’s doing a damn good job.
He’s also my reality check. Sometimes I ask for it. Sometimes he intervenes. He’s always spot on. Either way, he’s my touchstone—proof that calm can be built, practiced, sustained. I feel incredibly lucky to have him and this family.
Being here, I’m learning right alongside the kids—now with the inconvenient self-awareness of an adult.
I’ve got some work to do.
Stay Gritty