there once was a boy named brady.

Last night my little brother opened the most exciting piece of mail a soon-to-be 19 year old boy can open. Yes, he got his mission call.
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I’m not sure at what point Brady became old enough to get a mission call. It seems that even though I’m getting older everyone else should be frozen in time. Such is not the case.

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Guess where he is going? Indiana Indianapolis. Isn’t that crazy? Chris’s hometown is in that mission. His parents live in that mission. We visit that mission a few times a year. And if we move to Michigan, we’ll just be a few hours away from that mission. Crazy. Brady is going to be a fabulous missionary though. We love him and are very proud of him and grateful for his willingness to devote two years of his life to the Lord. It is no easy task, I’ve been told.

I remember the day Brady was born. I was 4 ½. I remember waking up and finding people other than my parents there. My parents were at the hospital to get the new baby. I don’t remember ever having a hard time getting used to him. It seems like he was meant to be there all along. Brady was a ridiculously cute baby. Cutest baby ever in my book until Carly showed up (sorry, Brady). My earliest memories of Brady involve him running across our large tile floors pushing one of those baby walkers. He used to zip all over on that thing. He also learned to ride a bike without training wheels at the ripe old age of 3. He had this tiny neon orange bike that my dad took the training wheels off of and he would cruise on that. He looked funny being so little on that little bike. It was adorable.
Brady is quite the athlete. When he was a little boy he used to play football with himself. He would throw the ball down our yard and run and catch it himself. Pretty amazing, huh? And really cute to watch. Since then he became a baseball all-star. He played from t-ball up through his senior year. I loved spending summer days and evenings at the ballpark watching him play. That is something I have really missed since leaving home. Nothing says summer like a baseball diamond. Brady and I had a few years of being at home just the two of us after our two older brothers went to college and missions of their own. They are years I cherish. I remember being across the hall from him. He was a hip middle schooler and I was a less-than-hip high schooler. He would blast his cool music and I would blast some combination of Backstreet Boys and Tim McGraw. The hall always smelled like some sort of manly smell, Axe or Hollister or whatever the kids are wearing these days. It still does outside his bathroom whenever we go home. I love that. That’s home.Brady and I had quite the little experience together when it was time for me to leave home and head to BYU. We packing my little car up and my parents little car up and we started caravanning to Provo. Brady was with me, my parents following behind us. I had undiagnosed Celiac disease at this point, and wheat made me sleepy. After staying up until 2 the night before and a large wheaty breakfast, we headed down I-15. Brady was asleep and shortly after we entered Utah Kenny Chesney lulled me to sleep as well. The car veered down into the median set on cruise control at 86 (yes, fast, I know). That’s not what woke me up. What woke me up was Brady yelling “Erin!”. I wish I had slammed on my breaks. Instead I tried to get back on the road. The car over corrected, turned 180 degrees and rolled off the freeway, flipped, and landed right-side up on the dirt. Kenny was still singing. There were sparkles everywhere . . . shattered glass. I remember that as soon as I realized I was conscious I was terrified to look over at Brady. What if I had hurt him? How would I ever forgive myself? I looked over and he looked back at me, a bit stunned. I’ve never been so grateful. We were both wearing seatbelts. Brady wasn’t much of a seatbelt wearer at the time. I’m so grateful he was that day.Brady is a loving uncle. It’s cute because he is so cool. I was never that cool. But he is cool and he still loves Carly snuggles. And she loves him. She took to him with such ease over Christmas. And she isn’t a big fan of people she isn’t familiar with.

I’m not a super expressive person. I have a hard some expressing myself speaking out loud (which is why I’m a fan of writing). It’s a hazard of growing up with boys I suppose. But, Brady, I love you and I’m grateful for you. You are a wonderful brother and I miss seeing you and living across the hall from you;-). I’m so excited for you and this next wonderful step in your life. You’ll be so great. Chris, Carly, and I will be cheering for you and praying for you every step of the way.
Yay for missionaries.