It’s ironic that I only seem to achieve my dream of coolness when I completely surrender trying. I’ve always had a lot to aspire to, because I grew up with siblings that were on the cutting edge of a nearly unattainable coolness.
My big brother is the most charming, likable guy you’ve ever met. Growing up, everyone loved him, and still does. He always had a huge circle of friends. He knew awesome stuff about power tools, horses, and R/C models. Old ladies would remark about how he was going to be handsome and six feet tall, like our dad. I didn’t know why being six feet tall was so desirable, but I thought, “He’s my dad, too, why don’t they tell me I’m going to be six feet tall?” In treasured moments, when my brother taught me how to throw a ball, when he invited me to explore the crawl space under the house, when he drove my jeep in the bracket drags and beat out muscle cars, moments when I felt his coolness rub off on me, I just wished I had some of my own for the rest of the time.
If I have to brag, I will brag about how weak I am. 2 Corinthians 11:30