Who's the Boss?

Having never been an older sibling, I can't say for sure, but I'd be willing to bet that most are rather bossy. At least that was the case with my older sibling.

When I made my triumphant entry into this world, Adam was three years old. That's three years of experience, three years of wisdom, three years of hard time earned on this third rock from the sun. And with that head start, I reckon Adam thought he had quite a bit of knowledge on me.

Even while Mom was pregnant, Adam let her know that, as he was hers, I would obviously be his. And this was a charge he was ready and willing to take responsibility for. He held true to this conviction even after I was born and he witnessed the trials and tribulations my parents faced while trying to raise a baby with a touch of colic-- and I say 'a touch' with a wink. Adam must have perceived my constant wails as a crack in the parenting system, motivation for him to valiantly step up to the plate and take over. Several years later, still unconvinced that Mom and Dad were truly able to raise two children at once, Adam came up with a solution. He approached my mother with a proposition that went something like, "I swear, Mother, if you'll just let me be in charge of her for one month, I'll whip her into shape." My mother, thankfully, turned down his generous offer, although at times I can imagine that sharing the workload with someone-- anyone-- would be a welcome reprieve.

I'm sure Adam had my best interest in mind; in fact, I'm sure he thought I would benefit greatly from being in his charge. It probably seemed win-win: Mom gets a break, I got a more proper upbringing, and Adam got to wield control over the life of his unruly little sister. But it seems Mom and Dad didn't think his teensy-tiny three-year advantage on me really gave him the needed preparation for that kind of control and responsibility.

Lately, I've been in a bit of a tangle with God. I would love for every blog I write to be about how glorious and joyful my time with the Lord is, but, while I would love for everyone who graces this website to think that I've got it altogether, that just wouldn't be the truth. It wouldn't be true at all, in fact, because lately 'joyful' and 'altogether' haven't been found in my vocabulary often without a negative preceding it.

It occurred to me this morning in church-- allowing my mind to wander during the sermon is part of my boycotting God, it seems-- that perhaps I'm more like my brother than I really realized. In lieu of a younger sibling and going over the heads of my parents, I've gone straight to God and told him that "if You would just give me x amount of time, I could whip this life into shape." I often feel like my 23 years here on Earth have given me quite a bit of wisdom, surely enough to guide myself along.

I've said it before, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll hear myself say it a few more times, but I seem to think sometimes that at some point, "I can take it from here." This latest revelation has hardly made it all better, but I'm beginning to wonder if taking my life into my own hands isn't just as advisable as letting a ten-year-old raise a seven-year-old... I have a feeling that the success rate of the two experiments would be comparable.