"And my brother... well, I call him Stupid."

Currently listening to: For Once in My Life by Frank Sinatra (I include this because I am of the strong suspicion that what I am listening to dictates the tone of my writing).

Last night was Round 2 of class at the Salvation Army with the homeless veterans. As I have come to expect, these classes are momentous and moving and encouraging.

We talked about communicating with people and building strong families. One man shared about all his siblings and their strengths (although, one he called Stupid seemed not to have strengths... but it did make me laugh). Another man shared about a friend of his that was like his family, and I knew immediately what that was like. During the break, a silent man in the back apologized for what might have come across as rudeness and let us know that he had lost his entire immediate family to a string of tragedies. And all these comments were such that I began to think about my own families' strengths.

(I think I've done a post similar to this before but, as I'm convinced that no more than 2 people read this, I'll carry-on as though just for myself.)

My mom is a rock. She carries our family because she is logical and caring. She plans and budgets and works tirelessly to be sure that our lives run smoothly and with as little disruption as possible. She is always there to put my life into perspective, to build me up when I'm down, and to take me down a few notches when I get ahead of myself. And at the end of the day, she's content and so put-together.
My dad is my hero. He is strong and never afraid to try anything and so, so smart. He's magnetic in a way that draws crowds from all ages, through his musical talent or just his humor. And even beneath the showman, he's sensitive and good. He writes poetry for my mom because he loves her in that old-fashioned way, and I know he still has a hard time telling me 'no' because I'm his baby girl.
My brother was precious to me and everyone he met. He had a contagious smile and bright eyes. He cared deeply for those closest to him, and he was a prayer warrior at an astonishingly young age. Fiercely loyal and affectionate, he often let me know that, aside from being his incredibly annoying little sister, he loved me dearly.
Lauren, more a sister than just a friend, is funny and random and spontaneous but also incredibly responsible and organized. After a bad break-up in high school, she brought me Grapico, raisinets, and gossip magazines-- all my favorite things. She's one of the only people I've ever been able to just sit and be with, in silence or in giggles, in mindless chatter or in tearful conversations about lost love.
Rachel is easily the cousin I am closest to, not because we have spent the most time together but because we are so very alike in many way (but entirely different in others, too). She is affectionate and warm, artistic and feminine, athletic and beautiful. She was my idol growing up because, being six years older than me, she was always at the stage I wanted to be.

Those are the people I would consider in my most "immediate" family, although I could write a paragraph of nice things about anyone in my family, I think. I am so incredibly blessed, and the sweet veterans last night reminded me of that in a loud and resounding way.

My favorite, because he shares the most and wants to get the most out of the program, shared yet another funny story (one that may or may not translate across cyberspace). We were talking about negative people and their impact on our lives, that they will bring you down faster than you can bring them up, and Sam* raised his hand to tell a story. He told of dating a girl years ago who was so negative he could barely stand it, but so pretty he could hardly walk away. After months of dating and listening to her constant complaints, one night after dinner he offered to go out and get her favorite dessert-- apple pie and ice cream. He said, "I left... and I ain't never been back! She's still waitin' for that pie!" Everyone in the room cackled and rocked in their chairs. For a moment I couldn't help but pity the lovelorn woman waiting for her promised pie, but I have to give it to Sam... the man's got style.

Happy Hump Day to anyone sweet enough to drop by my little blog.

*Sam's not his real name.