A tribute of sorts to my brother, the cop.

How much do I love my brother, Kevin? Enough to share, for the second time, this photo of the two of us ~ despite my vanity. On this day, we'd run a race together ~ which on my part, at least, is saying a lot since I typically avoid running with other people. But it felt comfortable with Kevin. I only wish that I didn't look, in this picture, like a 50 year old woman with a fake tan. After all, I'm only (?!) 40 and my aged skin is a result of many years of devoted sun worship, thankyouverymuch!

But I digress.

After spending ten years as a military policeman in the Air Force, Kevin moved on to work as a sheriff's deputy and police officer, and he excels at his work.

I don't really see Kevin a great deal, or talk to him very often, although he lives within a few hours' drive. But last Friday and Saturday, after spending Thanksgiving at our parents' home, I was able to hang with him. And then on Sunday, I took my boys to the church I attended as a teen. Advent is upon us, and the service revolved around that theme: Looking toward what is to come. Knowing that the world as we know it is not the be-all, end-all. Thank God for that.

While we were worshipping, four police officers were gunned down nearby as they had their pre-shift morning coffee. Four of Kevin's colleagues. Four people who did their work, as Kevin does his, knowing that there's no such thing as a routine call. Or a routine cup of coffee, apparently.

Thanks for your service, Kevin. I'm proud of you. I love you.