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Sisterhood is such a special and high calling.  So I hope there are muchos parts to these thoughts.

So my little brother got married this weekend. He is closest to me in age, interest, maturity, and heart.

When I was in Uganda for my older brother’s wedding, I was not concerned about it. He was the self-confident loner who didn’t need a little sister growing up, so I knew I would be fine. Tell that to my salt-covered face after I finished weeping down the aisle.

I came pretty prepared for Little Brother’s ceremony. I have always been not-a-little sentimental about him. Therefore, I was surprised that my emotions were only expressed in a slight brimming when New Sister was glowing in radiance while worshipping Jesus on her wedding day, clearly focused on the one Man even better than my brother. If those were the only tears that were going to show up, I was sitting pretty. Or so I thought.

The ceremony ended, the new couple entered, toasts were given, the first dance danced. Smiles, many smiles; no tears. The tradition of the Dollar Dance announced- a perfect chance for the happy couple to score some honeymoon moolah.

Eagerly, I threw a buck at the MOH to be the first to take the hand of Little Brother. I spun onto the dance floor and laid a hand on his silk vest. I smiled big, so thrilled to be close to him on this busy day, to do just a little to show my big support for him with a little dollar.

He smiled back. The groom, who had stood so poised and calm amidst the hustle and bustle of a crazy day, smiled up at his big sister.

But it wasn’t that winning grin. It was a half-smile accompanied by a profound look, one that made my heart swell with that whole, (proud) love that only big sisters have for little brothers.

Then surprisingly, shockingly, and wholly unexpectedly, he burst into tears.

What? I pulled back to look in his face- I didn’t believe it.
Then I grabbed that boy tight, repeating his name and swaying gently.

“I am so proud of you. I am so proud.”
My tears mirrored his as we did a strange half-dance, half-embrace.

It was my favorite moment of the evening, and it was filled with bewilderment. It ended, another bridesmaid took my place.  If I am any standard, and girls are supposed to be the confusing emotional ones, we women are not good at interpreting confusing male emotions. I sunk against a wall and replayed that tender moment, locking away that lovely, weepy memory.

I haven’t had the chance to ask him what made him drop his cool in that moment, and I don’t know if I will. But I felt so overwhelmingly honored to be someone he loved like that, someone who shook him so deeply on his happiest day. Someone that really mattered to him, in whatever significant way that means.

I let my own tears fall.

Dang it, Little Brother, I was doing so well.