In Honor of Mr. Short

I am the oldest of seven, and I sometimes feel sorry for my kids that they didn’t get that sixth sibling, because I know I have needed every single one of mine.


As most of you know, a good friend of mine is in the hospital tonight, suffering from what is currently diagnosed as some sort of brain infection. I went to see his family at the hospital last night, and walked into what was quite possibly the most crowded waiting room in the history of ICU. It struck me again how important the family structure is, and how badly we need each other when times get tough.

I have not yet had to face the mortality of my parents, and can only imagine the fear and pain and feeling of disconnect that must come in situations like these. Not to mention the anxiety most of us have felt when we know our parents are suffering in some way. I have watched two big families go through the possible death of their father while also trying to be there for their mother at the same time. This is when I think siblings most need each other. The only person who can understand what you’re going through when your dad is sick is someone who also knows him as Dad. The only person who can understand how you feel when your mom is in pain is someone who also knows her as Mom.

I imagine that this would be a huge struggle for a person dealing with this alone. As a child with many siblings, you learn to share at an early age. You hate sharing. You never want your sisters to go in your room to “borrow” your clothes, you don’t want your brothers breaking all your stuff, you want to carve out a little corner of the world that is just yours. But then you grow up, and bad things happen. And you need to share. If you’re lucky, you have someone to share with now that you know how badly you need it. And if you’re like me, or these two families, you have lots of people who know exactly what you’re going through.

There is always someone to be with Dad. There is always someone to be with Mom. There is always a shoulder to cry on, someone to run get sandwiches, someone to make everyone laugh, someone able to hold it together enough to speak rationally with the medical staff. And you share these things, and it’s easier.

When you come from a large family, you experience the “freak show” stares when you all pile out of the car, the unending rude questions from strangers, the constantly chaotic household, and the hand-me-down clothes, but you know you have something that you wouldn’t trade for the world. When you have four or five or six or seven or more built-in best friends who you can depend on no matter what, and parents who have loved you enough to continue to expand their family and to stick by them, loving their children through their toddler tantrums and their angry teens and their young adult stupidity, and you have the One Who designed your “quiver full of joy”, then you have everything you need to make it through anything that life hands you.

To the parents who have welcomed God into their marriage, who welcomed new life into their homes as He willed it, who taught their children to grow in Faith and in His Will, who taught their children to share, who brought in every stray kid or friend of their children or next-door neighbor and made them feel like part of the family, I am thankful for you. What I’ve seen in those two ICU waiting rooms, and what I have seen in the other large families I know, and what I’ve seen in my own childhood home is exactly what I want my children to have – the hatred of sharing, the broken toys, the borrowed clothes, the spilled nail polish, and the growing up and realizing how awesome it is, after all.