A Quick Little Tug On An Earlobe

I called him Cousin Mike. Mainly because he deserved an affectionate name, and Daddy calls Mike's wife "Cousin Linda." To this day, I have no idea exactly how we are related. Momma just ignored the tangled family tree limbs and called him her brother.

Because that's who we all are. Family.

It's one of the deep, mysterious Truths that I couldn't help but learn experientially while growing up in a little country church congregation in the outskirts of Cut-N-Shoot, Texas. Blood is thicker than water, and this little congregation is a family of faith that knows it is bound together by the thickest, holiest blood of all.

And Cousin Mike made sure I knew it, too...with a very simple gesture. He pulled my earlobe. A quick little tug is all it took.

I don't remember the first time he did it, but I couldn't have yet been knee high to a grasshopper and still as shy as a little rabbit.

Walking into the foyer each Sabbath, there would be Mike waiting to greet us. He'd pull my ear, I'd pull his, we'd hug, and then my family would find our pew. If we happened to get in without seeing him, he'd sneak up and get my ear when I wasn't expecting it. It was our little game of greeting.

He was there to pull my ear when Momma and I would happen to stop by my MawMaw and PawPaw's house during his weekly Friday afternoon coffee time with them. He'd bring them vegetables from his garden and they'd share laughs.

And he was still there for those visits when it became my widowed MawMaw and her two widowed sisters. Drinking coffee and doing handyman jobs for them.

He was there to pull my ear when I gave him the cassette tapes at the sound booth for my "specials".

He was there to pull my ear at my baptism.

During those horrible junior high years.

And the possibly better high school ones.

When I graduated.

When I left for Texas A&M.

When I moved.

Away.

When I came back for my wedding. My wedding day couldn't be complete without an ear tug from Cousin Mike. He didn't want to. I made him do it.

He was always there with that little reminder that spoke more than words. It was his way of telling me that I was special. That I was part of the Family. And I believed him.

On the rare occasions that I would get the opportunity to visit my church family in Cut-N-Shoot, I would delight in spotting him before he spotted me. Sneaking up behind him, my fingers would seize his earlobe in a quick little tug or two. That told him all he needed to know, and my earlobe was rewarded in return.

When I returned this past September for my MawMaw's funeral, I knew it would be the last ear tug I received for a while. I just had no idea... how... long....

The phone call came this morning. It was complications from heart surgery.

Oh, but it wasn't his heart! He had a heart full of gold with an ornery streak of platinum running straight through it.

His was a heart big enough to shower his wife, son, daughter, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and in-laws with unconditional love...and still have more left over to give to shy little girls...and to a family of faith.

"Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary, use words." (1)

Cousin Mike didn't need many words to preach the good news of what it means to be family in the Kingdom of God.

There is a reason why I keep tugging on my own earlobes today in between sobs.

It's because he said it with smiles and vegetables and tugs on earlobes. With steadfast visits and cups of coffee. With his excellent workmanship. He and my best friend were "birthday buddies". That was their special thing, their poignant, special words. And these are just a few of the many special things he had with many, many special people. Because he was special.

He testified to a family love that can only be possible through Jesus.

And so the final days of this month mark not only the anniversary of his first breaths of life but the promise that he will breathe once more!

Our little family of faith, surrounded by the even larger family of God will all breathe that Kingdom air in together.

And when we do, I'm going to sneak up behind Cousin Mike and tell him how much I love him...

with a quick little tug on an earlobe.




(1) Saint Francis of Assisi