I have a brother.  His name is Jr. and he was born when I was four years old.  We lived in Germany and he has dual citizenship.

I remember the baby shower for my mother.  There was a cake and it had a tiny baby buried in it.  Whoever found the baby in their piece of cake won a prize.  For me the baby was the prize.

I am very proud of my little baby brother (even though I really wanted a sister when he was born).  He wouldn't like you knowing this, but I even changed his diapers.

When I was little and he was littler, he could be a pest as little brothers often are.  My father traveled a lot and when he'd go to another country he'd bring me home a doll from that country to add to my collection.  I hung them on the wall and they were just for decoration.  Well, when my brother got big enough he tore them down and then tore them up.  I don't think I've ever forgiven him.  Although, I'm sure I should.  That was a long time ago, and I don't think he even remembers doing it now.

When we were traveling through Canada to Alaska, the U.S. customs officer at the border checked if we were all United States' citizens by asking, "Were you all born in the United States?"

Even though my brother is a U.S. citizen, he wasn't born in the U.S.  So I piped up and said, "No, my brother was born in Germany."  Well, my Dad was sorta mad at me because then he had to dig into all the stuff we packed to move to Alaska so he could find my brother's birth certificate and naturalization papers.

Now my brother is all grown up, married, with two children and one grandson.  He's a very conscientious and honest man who works hard to take care of his family in every way, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  He does his best to walk with God.

When I visited my brother in Indiana, he introduced me to a new friend of his.  I said I was just like my brother, and that if he liked him, he would like me.  He laughed because he was going to say that if I wasn't anything like my brother then we'd get along fine, but he was joking, of course.

My brother and I have many things in common, we both love office supplies and we both save everything.  You could classify us as perfectionists because we don't like to finish anything unless it's perfect.  As a result, we seem to be surrounded by unfinished projects about half the time and the other half we are thinking up new things to do.

When my brother's friend was losing his eye sight, he volunteered me to read Bible lessons into a tape recorder for him.  At first I thought, "How could he volunteer me without even asking me?"  But I think my brother knew I'd do it without a fuss, and I did.  In fact, I have a blind friend, too, so I made a copy for him while I was doing it.

The whole project was very helpful to me because the winter I worked on it, I was very ill.  I couldn't do much besides lie flat on the couch.  I'd spend that time finding verses in the Bible to read on the tape with the lesson, and it was almost like being in the mind of God.  I will be ever grateful to my brother for handing this project to me.

Now my brother is a grandfather, and we still call him Jr.  He says he likes that name even though people at work call him by his first name.

I know that he'll always be Jr. in my heart.