I knew you when

You were a very chubby baby. I don't remember much of the early early days because I was pretty young too. We shared a room for a while. You didn't seem to mind my Strawberry Shortcake bedspread. Your favorite part of Sesame Street was the credits at the end.

When we got older, we spent countless hours outside. Sometimes we would spend the whole day in the sand pile by the corn crib. Sometimes we would spend hours riding our bikes up and down the driveway. Sometimes we would work for hours on our tree house. Whether it was playing in the sandbox or racing matchbox cars (my Superscreamer always beat your Tornado) on your plastic track, you usually let me have my way. Every once in a while you didn't and I would hit you. You would run to mom crying and I would tell her that you fell. Most of the time, she bought it.

And then I got older and quit playing as much. I became more and more consumed with listening to music in my room, with the door locked to keep out uninvited siblings. We didn't play together as much so you looked to the only other available playmate - our little sister. The two of you played with stuffed animals incessantly. There were often animal olympics or animal Christmas parties (complete with gifts). On the days you didn't want to play with anyone else, you built with legos. While I struggled with my math homework, you snapped together little bricks, one at a time, creating houses, airplanes, space shuttles, cars, and trains. When Dad was helping me with my math homework he blurted out to you that if you could solve the problem he was helping me with you could skip junior high math. You solved it in two minutes. Dad was impressed. I brainstormed on ways I could con you into doing my homework.

I went to high school and you became the "smart kid" at our grade school. You whizzed through school work while I spent time trying to figure out who I was. You were a 7th grader and I was a junior when you beat me on the ACT. As much as that scared your family, and as much as I didn't want to admit this at the time, I was impressed.

Pretty soon I went away to college. Then I graduated. Got married. You went to high school and proceeded to do what you do best. Do the best. Mom was a bit weirded out when she attended parent-teacher conferences one year and one of the teachers sat her down, looked her in the eye and said "He could do anything he wanted to do. And I mean ANYTHING. He's just that smart." You had a few unfortunate blunders involving motor vehicles, one of which I was privileged to rescue you from. You were crowned homecoming king which was totally foreign to our family. It wasn't so much that you were "popular" but more that you were so well liked and respected. And then it was time to start applying to and pursuing colleges. When you got that ridiculously high score on your ACT your senior year, colleges started pursuing you. You were valedictorian. A few scholarships and a free ride later you wound up at Iowa State.

Initially, you just didn't know what you wanted to do with your life. That first year brought so many questions about who you were and what you wanted to be. After some adjustment, you found your niche. Civil Engineering. Good friends. Campus Crusade for Christ. Soon you found someone you really loved. I got frequent reports on your academic success as a college student, but was never surprised by your victories and achievements. I heard about some of the silly things you did with your friends, but was not shocked by any of it. I laughed at your continued clumsiness, but started to worry you weren't growing out of it.

I knew you when you were just this little kid with glasses and braces who could always do my math homework better/faster/easier than me. I knew you when you started to impress people with your intelligence. I knew you when you called me your freshman year feeling totally overwhelmed by college. I knew you when you became President of Campus Crusade for Christ.

But in all that, in all your accomplishments, awards, achievements, and times of recognition, I can say only this - I am most proud of the Man of God you are today.

I know this guy who gave up entire summers with his beloved family (whatever, you missed us and you know it) to live overseas in a communist country spreading the love of Christ. I know this guy who lived for a summer in South Carolina working in a McDonald's solely for the purpose of sharing the gospel. I know this guy who has devoted his life and his heart to his Lord and Savior. I know this guy who is getting married in a few months to a beautiful Christan woman God precisely placed in his life. I know this guy who got on his knees and prayed for me more times than I ever realized or could count. I know this guy who loves Jesus. And I'm so proud to call him my brother.

Happy Birthday Tomas!