My baby brother Michael turned fifty this week. It has been a bit disconcerting.

My parents adopted him from Vietnam and he arrived in Birmingham in April of 1975, just a few days before Saigon fell.

Dad emerged from the airline gate holding my new 21-month-old brother who was sound asleep, and I rushed forward ahead of Mom and pulled Michael down into my eager arms. I was only eight and he was so heavy, but I didn’t care. I had waited so long and I was filled to the brim with love and joy.

The crowd of friends and relatives made lots of approving noises, all whispered so as not to awaken the sleeping little boy in my arms. It was the most joyous moment of my young life, and in some ways I still think of him as my first little boy.

It is a peculiarity of human beings that we can look at someone we have known and loved for a long time and see in them the many persons they have been mixed into the beloved of now.

There are many Michaels mixed in my memories and as I spoke to him on the phone to welcome him to this new decade of his life, they were all there with me. What a gift he has been and continues to be.

May your memories of your beloveds warm you and bring you joy!

In wisdom and grace,

Rev. Ruth